mom & me
As I move through healing I am continually awed by my mind’s capacity to review and alter opinions based on new evidence. This is a skill I’ve developed through healing, and healing alone. I’ve written many times about how the stagnant, concrete black and white thinking of my past has been melting away to reveal a kaleidoscope of beauty and color; colors that become more rich and vibrant as I hone the skill.
Today as I was loading in groceries I saw the tail end of an eagle passing over my apartment building. I dropped my things and ran down to the lake to get a closer look, and stood watching my friend soar back and forth, riding the wind. As the cold started sinking into my bones I felt an opinion shift, and it was a big one. They were right.
My mom and I were more alike than I thought.
It’s been hard to find positive moments we shared while she was alive; I’m still at less than a handful. But her love of nature and excitement at something as common as a deer is something joyful that she passed along to me, and for that I am thankful. I remember days spent in the woods of Tennessee, catching frogs and snakes and anything else we could. Her love of nature in the winter was not something we shared when she was alive, but now we would. You hear that, Mom? I even like snow & cold now.
As I move through healing I’m also continually awed by my spirituality. I’m not sure it’s possible to heal without finding your way into some aspect of spirituality; a regulated nervous system will show you some serious magic. The younger, atheist version of Chelsea would be shocked.
My mom was a Christian and we attended a Methodist church, and she could be very hard core about the Christian God. But I remembered recently that she was surprisingly spiritual; she talked of reincarnation and mediums, and how she was visited by her father’s ghost. I didn’t know what any of this was, or what spirituality even meant, but now I’m fascinated and wish we could talk about it. It’s an open-mindedness I hadn’t seen elsewhere from her, so I am endlessly curious. Where did that come from?
I believe we’re also alike in trauma. It took processing my own trauma to realize that the birth of my younger sister was most likely incredibly traumatic for my mother. Born 4 months early and weighing slightly over a pound, my sister spent a year in the NICU. Of course 5 year old me couldn’t fathom this, nor could 16, or even 25 year old me. I didn’t know what trauma was.
But now I do. Though she was my abuser, the creator of my trauma, I know through this healing that we pass on the pain that is given to us. So while there is no excuse for abuse, there is an explanation. I know this personally, as I’ve written about passing on my trauma to my ex-husband. If I had children during that time I am positive I would have passed on the same verbal abuse.
I never thought I would reach forgiveness - but the realization above changed me. It could have been me.
In the beginning I was scared of these realizations… Will people think I changed my mind about everything I’ve said so far? Are they going to think I am totally okay with everything and ready to rejoin my family?
But as the colors become more vibrant than ever, I know that multiple truths and realities can exist at once. I was abused and sent down a long lonely journey through mental illness and healing, and my mother was doing her best. My mother was doing her best, and her best fucked me up. Her best fucked me up, and I am truly grateful to have gone through that journey. I am grateful, and I am sometimes sad.
I am sometimes sad, and I am content.
