My son and I have not always had it easy. I was barely 24 when I had given birth to this Dear One and gravely below the veil of consciousness, wrought with anxiety, and most likely suffering from undiagnosed depression.
For many years, I believed myself to be a wonderful mother. Unlike my own, my son heard the words "I love you" and I made sure to show interest in who he was a person and in things he liked to do. But below the level of my conscious mind were many patterns unfolding I was not aware of.
I was tense, critical, rigid, and perfectionistic. I was sad, lonely, and felt deeply disconnected from his father. The more I tried to please and connect, the further his father and I drifted apart only adding to mounting anxieties.
I was codependent but unaware. I was a child in an adult body emitting energies my conscious mind swore I would not. I was focused on outside things that pulled my energies from where they should have been directed. I was easily spooked by what others said or did that I deemed threatening.
Although I looked fine, I was barely surviving.
My son had no choice but to come along for the ride.
For some years his father did his best to alienate me from him and for a while, it worked. Thankfully, over time, as his father's true personality revealed itself, my son and I began mending the threads of our relationship.
Yesterday, I was the luckiest mom in the world. My son and I spent his birthday par-oozing through the eclectic busy streets of Manhattan. We spoke about life as it once was, as it is, and what it could have been. I listened and honored his realities. I did not defend myself. I witnessed life through his experiences and did my best to remain empathic to his personal experiences of me, his father, and his experiences of it all.
As we strolled through the streets, and he pointed to at least eleven skyscrapers he has worked on as an electrician, I began to become aware of just how important it was for my son to have the opportunity to get to show me who he was, how he spent his time, what he worked on, and to have someone witness his accomplishments.
How ridiculously simple LOVE is.
I share this photo because it is proof that recovery is possible. There were days I doubted my son and I would ever be able to recover from the dysfunction that plagued our family. Because of my LOVE for him and my other two children, I committed myself to BREAKTHROUGH the codependency, unconsciousness, and total bullshit that had corrupted my family line for generations.
NO--I was not perfect but I was committed to finding a way to heal my self so I could heal my family.
Moms, dads, don't ever give up on your Dear Ones!
Happy Birthday my darling Boy Matthew!
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