If You Ever Wonder Why I’m Like This
I want you to feel confident in your emotions.
In your truth.
In speaking up for yourself and for others.
I want you to know that your feelings matter, that your voice has weight, and that there is nothing about who you are that needs to be hidden or made smaller to be acceptable.
I don’t have a story that’s easy to explain or neatly tied together. It comes to me in pieces, sometimes out of order, sometimes slowly, as I find the words to place them gently and tell them to you. There are parts of my life that shaped me long before I understood what was happening, and parts I didn’t fully understand until I was already a mother myself.
For a long time, I couldn’t stand up for myself. I couldn’t own my truth. Everything happened behind closed doors, and everything had to look as good as possible to the outside world. I didn’t get to just be a kid. I didn’t get to just be.
So when I tell you that you can come to me, I mean always.
The good.
The bad.
The messy.
Even when it’s my fault.
Even when you think you’ll disappoint me.
Even when you don’t have the words yet.
You can tell me, and I will hear you. I will try to understand you.
Because you don’t have to carry this alone.
I know I can be protective. I know I can be overly aware in ways that sometimes feel like I’m doing too much. That comes from not having security when I needed it. From people who should have helped me instead causing harm. From knowing what it feels like to be alone when you’re supposed to be cared for.
That feeling – being alone – is my greatest fear for you both.
Everything I do comes back to that.
To making sure you never feel like you have to figure things out by yourselves.
To making sure you know there is always a place to land.
I love you. And it’s only because of you that I’m here – learning, opening up, and becoming the mother you need. I only wish I had figured some of this out sooner.
But I’m here now.
And I’m listening.
Always.
