That moment in your life when your
mother lets you down. She is superwomen with the wind on her wings, and then
suddenly she’s down on the ground. She was everything I could have asked for; grace,
beauty, and poise. Successful in all the things that mattered: a colorful
kaleidoscope of perfection. But there were hidden cracks, deeper then anyone
else could see. The blemishes hidden behind a perfect face of makeup. And one
day the mask was gone, and each dark spot started to rise to the surface. My
mother was everything I ever wanted to be in a women, but then all the sudden,
she wasn’t. I was raised by my mother, to be strong, proud, and independent.
And I am… I grew strong, tough and I didn’t let myself ever feel beneath
anyone. And people would echo these traits in their opinions of me. I was
always the “strong” girl, the one people can turn to, holding her head high.
And I think my love was so deep, and my image so distorted, slathered by rose
colored glasses and laced with ambrosia, that the idea she couldn’t stand for
me in those small moments when I couldn’t stand for myself hurt the most. But
she couldn’t, that wasn’t who she was. My mother could not fight for me. Even
when I broke down and asked her to, she still couldn’t. And it was in that
moment in my life when I realized that you give people a piece of your heart,
yes it can and will be broken. That Superwomen is just a women and that
perfection is dimmed with time.
But I think love is giving your
heart to them again anyway. So freely it
was given, but this time with scars. Holes, where spaces of naiveté were once
filled and wounds that left you a little harder then before. And yes, sometimes,
you need someone to fight for you. To pull you along and drag your kicking
feet. They will batter your walls and lay claim to your soul, because everyone
needs a champion. And no, maybe my mom isn’t mine. But I have found them in
others and for now that will be enough. And I am petrified of doing the same
thing to my daughter. Because that day will come. When the magic that your
mother holds will die just a little bit.
And we will fight and I will cry
and she will scream and I will love her with a passion that makes the heavens
tremble and the Gods cry in fear, and so I know I will do her right. And my
mothers weaknesses strengthen me, I was to be a beckon of defense. And I take
pride in what she has made me; I will grow more and my love will expand and I
will write and love and laugh and live.
But right now my heart hurts… and I
want to pull my hair out, let my cruel fury consume my world, but instead I let
the sobs wreck my body, my chin trembling and I breath. And I steady my self
and once again, I am in control. Strong, and that moment of weakness is over I
am through being that girl. I won’t ever let anyone bring me that low again,
including myself, because only I am left with my face in the mirror, so I will
make sure I proud to see it.
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