October 2022:
October is my favourite time of year. We plan for Hallowe’en a year in advance, choosing our theme, buying things on sale for the following year, and building props in the summer for the big day.
I was having a great day. I had lunch with my friend then a visit to check out the new office space she moved into for her reflexology business, followed by browsing the Salvation Army for pirate loot and a trunk. My phone beeped; I had missed a voice mail from Mom. She never leaves voice mail. I picked up the message immediately to find that it was Mom’s spouse leaving a message to tell me that he had to call the ambulance for her. She had extreme stomach issues and was currently at the hospital emergency waiting to be seen. They had no room for her; she was in the hallway in a bed.
Oh my God! So much for Hallowe’en. I put down my treasures and headed right home. I messaged her, but she did not have her stylus; without it her reply did not make sense. When I got to her, she was a mess. She was disheveled, confused, and looked so tiny in that big hospital bed. I combed her hair. I tried to make sense of what was happening to her. Over the next two weeks, I went there nearly every day for two to four hours to tend to her, keep her company, and do what I could.
The two weeks that Jaret and I had booked to work on our display were no more. The first week that she was in hospital, my brother came to visit and I was a mess. Seeing our mother unable to walk and so mentally confused was horrible; the doctors knew that her potassium levels were off, but not the reason why.
The day mom was to get out, she told me the real story of my first house.
What I knew was that Dad told me that he and mom were gifting one of their little rental houses to me. It was put into my name and I had to pay off the remaining mortgage, a meager five thousand dollars. I was thrilled!
She told me that Dad had made this decision without consulting her and she had not been in favour. She thought I could live there rent free, but that they would not give it to me. Dad asked her if she wanted him to tell me that she did not want to give me the house, making her the bad guy? No, of course not.
At the time, I believed it was a gift from both of them. I felt terrible hearing this news. She went on to say that Dad’s motivation was to have control over me; he thought I would feel obligated to him. She further told me that he was upset that I did not mention the house gift in my wedding speech. I responded that I did not think of the house as a wedding gift. I thought it was for me, to help me get started on my own. I was not even engaged to be married when they gifted it.
This news was devastating to me; it shattered the way I viewed the whole event. It shook me for days. I had done really deep forgiveness work when she left dad.
I completely forgave him on his death bed; he was in a coma after a car accident left him with severe head trauma. I stayed with him until he passed, singing to him, talking to him, and letting him know that I understood he did the best he could with what he knew to do. He, also, had a poor and difficult upbringing with an unloving mother. I did not wish to go back on my forgiveness.
My mom did not acknowledge my feelings on this, just like all of her other stories. She thought it was fine to tell me these things about my dad and other family members. Furthermore, she tells me that I am not to share these stories with my cousins. What a huge and unbearable burden.
We got her settled at home; her potassium levels and medications all sorted out. Her mind seemed to be back to her level of normal. We know that the pituitary gland tumour caused short term memory loss, but it has not been that big of an issue to date.
I sent her an email to explain my feelings about the house story. She either did not read it or has just decided not to talk about it. She did not apologize for the story; instead, she is asking me questions about my business and appears to show an interest in my life. For me, it feels superficial and it actually adds stress for me. I do not feel like I can be honest with her. If I share, her responses make me feel judged, that she has no interest, or that she does not understand what I do. It is a funny fact that when she says she does not understand what I do that I somehow allow myself to feel guilty about that too! I feel I am doing something wrong by living a life of learning and pursuing my dreams.
All that I want from her is for her to acknowledge my feelings and maybe apologize.
DECEMBER 1, 2022
From the journal…
The talk that I had with Jaret last night and writing out the timeline of the feelings I was experiencing made a massive difference to my mood. Jaret identified that I was in a mild state of depression. Taking time to acknowledge my feelings, followed by finding gratitude for what IS good in my life helped me immensely.
I did some yoga which made me feel much better almost instantly. A funny thing happened after the yoga video, the autoplay brought up the most beautiful station on YouTube with a visual of a torus. I planned to find something to listen to while working in the kitchen and it seemed that fate found the perfect thing on my behalf.
I began to make biscuits, coating my yoga top with a fine film of flour at the first press of the cuter to chop the butter. The doorbell rang, of course. I opened it to find a lovely lady standing outside. Hi! She said, I was trying to book a Reiki appointment for my mom at six tonight and the system kept locking up. I live close by so I thought I would just swing by to book with you directly instead.
Apologizing for my current state of dress, I told her I absolutely could do that for her. She was very appreciative and said she believed strongly in alternative medicine and was excited for her mom to have this experience. She thanked me and paused on the way out the door to say how much was loved the music I had playing. Funny how things work out!
I told Jaret about what happened and he just beamed saying, I love your life and how immediately circumstances change when you change your outlook, Patty. This is one hundred percent true! I am what I think and the response time is lightning fast now.
DECEMBER 3, 2022
It is amazing how much my outlook changed since realizing I had been experiencing depression. I facilitated two Reiki sessions and am feeling very good about everything again. I am studying, writing, and working on my business.
December 5, 2022
Tomorrow would have been Alexandra’s 21st birthday. I am feeling a bit melancholy but not as bad as previous years. I have plans with my girlfriend to go to a nearby spa and do some browsing. We are having a girls’ day out to celebrate my girl on her birthday. Life is good.
December 6, 2022
Yesterday afternoon was very strange. Mom messaged to ask if I had time for a chat. I said yes, as I had nothing going on that day. She said I will call you in a few minutes. Things have been good for a month; no old stories and it seemed as though boundaries are being respected. I had no trepidation about the call.
She began the conversation asking me about Sparks of Healing. She said, "I know you do hypnotherapy and Reiki but do you also offer talk therapy?
Well, I sort of do, but not really. I have a couple of long-term clients who I do that for, but only because they requested it.Why do you ask, Mom?
Well, when you do that, for your clients, do they feel better?
Yes… (starting to feel uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation).
How much do you charge for that?
$111 per hour. Why are you asking me this?
Well, I know you don’t like to listen to my stories so I thought if I booked in with you and paid you, you would have to just be quiet and listen to me.
I was stunned for a moment; unsure how to respond. Finally, I said, I do not wish you to pay me to talk to me, Mom.
I asked her why she wanted to tell me these stories? Did it help her to get them out?
Well, you think I favour your brother so I thought if you could know my life, you could understand why I am the way that I am.
I do understand that you had a terrible childhood and you had a terrible marriage to dad. My only wish for you is that you are able to let go of the past and enjoy your current life. You have a very good life now. George loves you, you have a nice home together, you are financially secure, and you can do whatever you want.
Yes, George is so good to me, and maybe my life is boring to you, she said, but I like it.
It is not boring if you are doing as you choose. You can spend your time doing whatever makes you happy. I replied.
Well, I enjoy my days but then I think about all these things at night.
If you were my client, I would coach you to work on forgiveness, Mom. I know you may not be able to forgive the people who hurt you right away, or possibly ever, but you could start by forgiving yourself. You went with Dad because the other choices were worse after Gramma left the farm. You thought Dad loved you, and maybe he did, but he changed after I was born.
Yes, I thought he was my Prince Charming and things actually changed right after we got married. He put me down and started controlling everything. He even turned me against my mom by flirting with her.
She then proceeded to tell me the awful story about my dad again. The story that kept me awake at night for a week; the story that kicked off my depression. This story messed me up for weeks the first time she told it. She finished up by saying. I probably shouldn’t tell you this.
I responded that she had already told me this story in August. She followed up with other stories about my dad’s infidelity during their marriage, how he grabbed other women inappropriately in front of her.
I confirmed that I witnessed this as a child; even then I knew it was messed up.
She told me all the stories again about how dad would be mean to my brother. She repeated all the stories about my brother’s car accidents and how he would clam up. I said, yes, my brother would talk to me. Then she talked about how dad would come over to my house to tell me about my brother’s accidents. Apparently, this was a problem for her, I am not sure why.
I told her that I wish I had known that dad was trying to blackmail my brother into not speaking with her after she left and he was still living in dad’s house. I could have helped in some way. She ignored that and went on with more stories about how dad was mean to my brother.
Next was all about how good my brother was and how proud she was of us both. I said that she needed to take some credit for how we both turned out. No reply to that, just more stories about my brother, his son and what a great dad he is.
Then she said, your boys turned out so well too. They are kind and caring.
Why do you think that is, Mom? That my boys turned out well…
I don’t know…
WOW! Not because you are a good mom, nothing…
I took this opportunity to point out to her why I think she favours my brother. She has many stories about how he is so great. She does not say those things to me, about me. I told her that I don’t think she even likes me.
I loved you, she said. You were my baby doll. When you were a baby, I would dress you up in pretty dresses and I loved you.
I am not a baby any more, Mom. I am a grown woman and I do not think you like me. When we bought this house, we invited you and George to see it and meet Jaret’s parents. The first thing you said to Brian was “Don’t you think this house is too big for them?” You were not happy for me, just like when Gramma used to put you down and say you had too many shoes
Well, she replied, when you had the house on Lexier Place, you couldn’t keep up with all the work and I told you not to buy a big house again. You said you wouldn’t and then you did.
Jaret chose this house and it is perfect for my business and all our needs.
Oh yes, you guys have made it beautiful and I love what you do for Hallowe’en and everything. Jaret is so wonderful and smart. He helps me out with all my tech issues and he never minds. You are so lucky to have him.
Mom… Jaret and I are lucky to have each other. When I met him, all he did was work and game. He had no life beyond that and was depressed. He drove his parents’ car because he did not think he deserved anything nice of his own. Jaret has high anxiety from work and I help him cope. We are good TOGHETER and help each other. That is why I do not think you like me, because you rarely seem happy for me.
Oh well, I was so proud of you in high school when you got all those scholarships and stuff.
That was a long time ago, Mom. I am talking about the present!
Then she goes back to the story about the house they gave me and how Dad did not consult her about it. How he said he could go back to me and say that they changed their mind and then she would be the bad guy. This was followed by another story about how a man she worked with had brought her an investment opportunity where they could invest for a year at a guaranteed 17.5% return. She agreed without consulting dad and he was furious. He told her to put the money back. She took the money out of her dad’s account and invested the money in Grampa’s name instead. The next day dad went to work and told the guys. They said it was a legitimate investment, after which he came back home and told her to change it back. She said she couldn’t but that they could still invest. When the year came up, Dad tried to convince her not to tell Grampa and keep all the profit. She refused.
She was upset that he could choose to give away a house to me, but she was not allowed to invest without consulting him.
I get that, Mom, and I want you to understand how telling me that you fought about the house impacted me.
She repeated her feelings about what was okay for him but not her. I validated for her that was not fair; she definitely should have been included in the decision before gifting it to me. She repeated the story about how I did not speak about them giving me the house at the gift opening. I repeated that I did not understand that to be a wedding gift, but a gift for me directly which is why I did not talk about it.
Another example of where no one spoke to me, just about me, not to mention that this all happened in 1989 and the discussion took place in 2022.
She proceeded to change the topic to how bad her brothers were. I stopped her and told her that I shared the story she told me with my cousin, the other horrible story that she said I could not share.
You did?
Yes, and it helped her to better understand something that was said to her many years earlier, when she was just a kid. A thing that haunted her for years.
Telling someone you know something, but that you will never tell them is not helpful. The person makes up the rest of the story in their minds and usually blames themselves for the problem. I suggested that she should just be open to answering any of the questions my cousin has and only telling her what she wants to know. We agreed that I would tell my cousin to call Mom if she had additional questions and that Mom would answer her. Mom said she would not call her; she would wait for my cousin to initiate the conversation
She ended the conversation by saying I guess I just saved myself $111. We had spoken for two hours by this time.
My husband was working from home at the time and heard the entire conversation as I was on speaker phone. He called me to his office and asked me if I was okay. I most definitely was not. He held me and assured me that none of that conversation and Mom’s request that I be forced to listen to her for money was okay in the least.
I felt like that scene in the awful movies where the man assaults the woman, finishes by throwing money on the bed and saying, now go and clean yourself up.
I wrote an email to send to mom to once again try to get her to understand my feelings. I will not send it until after Alexandra’s birthday. I do not wish to deal with any aftermath or have another conversation with Mom on that day.
I had the day off because it was Alexandra’s birthday. I cancelled the spa plans with my friend. Jaret took a vacation day to care for me. I was an emotional mess.
Early in the morning my brother sent me a text to say that he was thinking of me on Alex’s birthday and hoped I was doing well. Oh, and by the way, he wrote, I had a talk with our mom this morning and she feels really good about a conversation she had with you yesterday. I hope that talk was good for you as well… I responded only that I was glad our mother was feeling better and thanked him for reaching out about my daughter.
That was the last straw! She thought that conversation was good? She felt better? Well, that’s great for her I guess but I was devastated, with the depression trying to weave itself back in. That is the day I wrote Trauma Train.
Up to this point and time, I had not shared any of the stories with my brother. The email I drafted told the details of two of the stories she shared with me, including the one that sent me into depression. I added my brother to the email, as well as my husband. It was time he understood clearly what I was talking about. If that meant I lost my only brother and my mother, I was okay with it. I also added a note to show her that Jaret and Jeff were both included in the email.
In the past, she tried to show a text I wrote asking her to stop with the stories to Jaret.
I want you to read something Patty wrote to me…
Sandi, we share everything and I have already seen it.
What purpose was there to asking my husband to read the text, other than to get him on her side? That is messed up!
DECEMBER 7, 2022
I pushed send on the email this morning at 5:30 AM. I let Jaret read the draft before I sent it. I told her I had him read it to ensure that in the pursuit of sharing my feelings with her that I did not unnecessarily hurt hers. He had me change one sentence and said it was fine. No need for her to try to gain my husband’s support against me, if that was the aim previously.
Later in the morning my brother sent me a text. He told me that he received the email; he understands now and he will be speaking with our mother. He agrees that she needs to talk to someone to get help with her memories and trauma but under no circumstances should that someone be her daughter. He said he will continue to speak to her until she understands clearly.
I have been doing Reiki and Ho’oponopono to help myself through all these big feelings. The conversation created a massive tear in my heart and it is going to take some time to heal.
I believe emailing her was the best approach as then she would have to LISTEN without interrupting me; there would be no opportunity to twist my words or redirect until I was done. I wrote it all out.
DECEMBER 8, 2022
Today I wrote a list of all the grievances I need to forgive; it is six pages long. I will not list them all here, but they extend back to my childhood and include so many times she was not there for me, did not stick up for me, expected too much from me and did not show gratitude, in fact, lauding appreciation on any one around me, but never me. The list is long and painful. I started researching victim narcissism, then drove to the bookstore to get a copy of Will I Ever Be Good Enough? Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers by Karyl McBride.
I usually start workbooks like this without ever finishing them; I would read every page and do every single assignment in full. This book was a huge revelation for me about who my mom might be, a victim narcissist, and who I was as a people pleaser and damaged daughter as a result of my upbringing.
DECEMBER 9, 2022
The 15th of December is my mom’s birthday. I was going to order take out and surprise her with a gathering of my family and her spouse’s kids. I have decided to do nothing, beyond sending her a polite Happy Birthday text. Until she responds to my email, which she has not yet, I will not be reaching out to her. I need time to process my feelings and reset my boundaries. She willfully disregarded my request to stop with the stories and then retold the worst one to me. This is not the sign of a healthy relationship.
I have been thinking a lot about what I need from her. She cannot change the past and I do not even expect she will ever apologize for the things she did and said. I only need her to be better now, in the present. I would like her to take an interest in me, to listen as well as speak. I would like her to stop dumping negative stuff on me. She likely cannot stop, so I will need to actively stop the conversations in any future interactions. As part of my healing, I need to do active forgiveness on each incident where I have felt hurt, abandoned, insulted, unloved, and unsupported in the past.
DECEMBER 11, 2022
I forgive myself for allowing my mother’s stories to impact me.
I forgive myself for thinking I owe her the debt of hearing the stories of her past.
I forgive myself for not honouring my own boundaries by listening again after I told her I could not.
I forgive myself for feeling guilty about going no contact with her for a few days.
I forgive myself for believing I am a bad daughter for holding these boundaries
ASSIGNMENTS FROM WILL I EVER BE GOOD ENOUGH by Karyl McBride:
Describe your ideal mother:
My ideal mother would love me as I am.
She would not constantly remind me of who I used to be, instead, she would notice the improvements I had made and celebrate me with how much I had grown.
She would say I love you and I would feel the truth in the words.
My ideal mother would be interested in what I do. She would speak positively about me to her friends.
My ideal mother would listen to me.
My ideal mother would respect my boundaries and have good personal boundaries of her own.
My ideal mother would have helped me learn how to take care of myself; dressing, makeup, hair, hygiene.
My ideal mother would be sincerely proud of me.
My ideal mother would want the best for me and she would be proud of my status in life. She would be happy that I am doing well.
My ideal mother would forgive me for my transgressions and understand that I am not perfect.
My ideal mother would think I am beautiful regardless of my dress size.
My ideal mother would want to do things with me; she would attend my book launch, my baseball games, and cheer me on.
My ideal mother would surprise me with plans, small gifts that show she knows who I am. She would celebrate my success.
My ideal mother would correct me lovingly when she saw me taking the wrong path.
My ideal mother would know me; my favourite colour, important dates, favourite food, and more.
My ideal mother would discuss books, movies, plays with me; we would have fun together.
My ideal mother and I would reminisce about the good times we had together.
My ideal mother would show appreciation for the things I do for her, not be silent with me, and talk about it to others.
My ideal mother would visit me at my home. She would complement our style, housekeeping, garden, and be proud of me for what I have built with my husband. She would recognize and acknowledge that we did it together.
My ideal mother would give me her full attention when I came to visit her. She would turn off the tv and fully focus on our conversation.
My ideal mother would have her own friends who she would talk to, play cards and do things she enjoys; people to share her life with.
My ideal mother would travel and enjoy her life.
My ideal mother would say sorry if it was warranted.
My ideal mother would not compare me to another woman as she would hold me as special because I am hers.
My ideal mother would hug and kiss my cheek when I saw her; her face would light up when she saw me.
My ideal mother would respect my privacy and she would think my husband was the luckiest man on earth to be married to me.
My ideal mother would be emotionally mature.
My ideal mother would treat her grandsons well and spoil them from time to time with small things that match their interests.
My ideal mother would have interesting hobbies that I could learn from her.
My ideal mother would have high self-esteem. She would want me to be a strong, independent woman.
My ideal mother would be her own person, and though we may not enjoy all the same things, we would respect each other’s differences.
My ideal mother would travel and spend time with my brother to see the life he built and give him all the same love and attention that I want for myself.
My ideal mother would have a beloved pet, who would be beneficial to her health, who would love to see me, but would love her the most.
My ideal mother would be happy that I could afford to spoil myself from time to time, in fact, she would encourage it!
What did the younger version of me need from my mother?
When I hurt myself on the apparatus at school, I needed sympathy and care. I needed to feel that I was important and to feel my mother’s love pour over me like a healing balm. (I fell off the apparatus at school when I was eight or nine, landing on my back, my teeth went through my lower lip, leaving me with a mouth full of blood, requiring stitches. My clearest memory about this traumatic incident is her getting upset and embarrassed because I turned and spat out the blood that was filling my mouth as we walked home from the school. She thought I could hold that until we got home.)
I needed her to listen to my stories and care about my life.
I needed her to be grateful for the many, many things I did around the house as a child and teenager.
I needed to be able to tell her my fears and receive comfort, support, and advice where warranted.
I needed to be included when my brother was born, to feel like our family was growing, not to feel that I was being replaced with a better version.
I needed to feel like I was my mother’s beautiful girl and everything she ever wanted.
I needed my mother to stand up for me when my uncle and cousins called me names.
I needed my mother to encourage my hopes and dreams.
I needed my mother to teach me about grooming; combing my hair, applying makeup, and general hygiene so I did not have to learn in embarrassing ways from my friends.
I needed my mother to do my hair when I was little.
I needed my mother to teach me with love, not anger. When I was little, I got lost and she got angry. A friend was over to play and she was worried she could not find her way home so I offered to walk her there, unfortunately, I could not find my way back. A nice lady helped me. I was terrified and bawling. I needed to be relieved I was safe, to value the compassion and kindness I showed to my friend, and at the same time, teach me to value my own safety.
I needed my mother to set proper boundaries for me, to recognize that I was a kid and deserved to spend time playing, dreaming, or just doing nothing; not always working.
I needed my mother to be happy that I had friends, not to come across as jealous of the time I spent with them.
I needed my mother to respect my need for quiet, for our home to not be party central every weekend until late at night.
I needed my mother to come and watch at least some of my baseball games, volleyball games, cheerleading at football, and attend the book launch for Forever Five which was about the loss of my daughter. I especially needed her there.
I needed my mother to be able to talk with me about boys, about being bullied, and many other things growing up; to listen, offer me advice, and support me.
I needed my mother to be my mother, not to feel like I was the one taking care of her and her feelings, as well as her safety.
I needed a home that I felt safe in. I wanted parents who loved each other, who respected each other, and were kind to one another, instead I worried about when you would get a divorce and what would happen to me and my brother.
I needed to not be responsible for my brother; I did not want to have to look out for him and protect him from dad’s cruelty. I should not have been put in a position of forcing him to eat things that made him gag; which I lied and said he ate when actually I flushed It down the toilet so he could leave the table and stop crying.
I needed my mother to tell my uncle to stop calling me Fat Pat and calling my brother Little Dummy.
I needed laughter and love in our home. I wanted our dinnertime to be a time where we shared stories and laughs, not be told to shut up because the tv was on.
I needed my mother to not criticize me for talking too much, then hide behind me when her social anxiety kicked in; it cannot be both ways.
I needed my mother to have good, healthy friendships; to not rely on me so much.
I needed my mother to tell me her concerns about my first husband before I married him; to be honest when I asked her how she knew that she was in love with my dad.
I needed my mother to encourage my dream about being a teacher and to tell me I could go away to university to take the classes I needed.
I needed a home that was not filled with people drinking, smoking, and swearing all the time.
I needed a father who would stand up for me when people said inappropriate, or mean things to me; not one who would smirk and laugh.
I needed a mother who would be proud of me, not for what I did, but for who I was; who I am.
I needed my mother to support my decision to cut some relatives out of my life for what they did to me, not make me feel guilty; to listen to what happened and take my side. I needed to be able to come to my mother when things felt wrong, to make it easy for me to talk to her.
I needed my mother to treat my brother and I equally.
I need my mother not to tell me all the horrible stories about her childhood and about my dad’s terrible behaviour. I knew things were not perfect but there was no reason for me to know the details of his infidelity; it was wrong for her to share those details with her daughter.
I need my mother to not make me feel as though I do not deserve to be married to my husband; to not say things that sound like he is doing me some sort of favour being with me.
I needed my mother to be strong.
WHAT WISHES DO I HAVE FOR MY MOTHER?
I wish my mother could find peace in life. I wish she could forgive herself and others so she could live her remaining years in peace.
I wish my mother did not idolize powerful men and believe that money makes them better than everyone else.
I wish my mother was happy and that it did not feel that she resents my happiness.
I wish my mother did not talk about everyone else behind their backs. I wish she would cut the people who wronged her out of her life.
I wish my mother could heal.
I wish my mother could make friends who she trusts; that she did not resent my ability to do so when I was little and to this day.
I wish my mother had considered me when she moved away and my kids were babies. I wish she had not put a man ahead of spending time with my family and I when she visited.
I wish my mother could trust other women to be her friends. I wish she had close relationships with people; genuine relationships where she could trust and love others.
I wish I could look forward to visiting my mother like I do other people. I wish we could still be friendly with one another when we disagree; hear one another’s side and have meaningful discussions.
I wish my mother could find things to love about herself so she did not feel bad all the time; I wish she knew she is enough.
I wish my mother could heal.
What does my soul want to tell me today?
We see that you feel guilty about telling this story. We know that your spirit of intent is that by sharing what you experienced in the hopes if might help someone else. How you found your way out of the pain to a place of peace; a place where you have love and compassion for your mom is a story worth sharing.
Your heart is in the right place and your intentions are pure. Sometimes, sharing the ugly truth is what opens the door for massive healing. In this case, you are not alone in the experiences you are having. There are many who receive conflicting messages from their parents. There are many doing the work of the caregivers and feeling like they cannot do anything right for their loved ones.
Pain begets pain. So many had childhoods filled with pain, loss, addiction, and abuse. They never learned love. They never had anyone to share with, to understand that they were not alone, and that their feelings were valid. They are now adults who do not know how to express themselves in a healthy way. Their silence turned bitter from being held for so long, their hearts are firmly locked, and their tongues now tell tales, or take their sadness out on those nearest to them.
In order to heal, the light must be able to get into the darkness; even a single candle can expel darkness. Your pen can be the light that guides the way for someone else’s healing.
We see you. We are guiding you. We love you and the chance you are taking to tell your truth of the story as you experienced it.
Never doubt your heart, it will always steer you in the right direction.
Thank you for sharing some of your precious moments with me. If this story is helping you, please let me know.
The peace I now possess was worth the journey. The love and compassion I have for my mom; the understanding I have of her life helps me to forgive her and accept her for the person she is, rather than longing for the mother she could not be to me.
Sending you LOVE and a wish for PEACE and JOY.