The Mother Wound: How it Affects You

Though I am bluntly aware of my "mother wound," I never realized how deep the wounding was until nearly 30 years of my life passed me by.

My mom got remarried when I was 11 years old, and had two more girls when I was 12 and 14 years old.

I was excited, but I was also... crushed.

My mother and I have had a sort of precarious relationship since I could even remember thinking a thought.

We never agreed on anything, I felt unprotected and constantly criticized by her, and essentially just never felt like I was going to be enough for her. I spent majority of my life subconsciously trying to prove to her my worth (here's the summary of it all if you want that tea).

When I found out she was getting remarried to my step-dad, I wasn't sad, I was DEVASTATED.

I was devastated that her and my real dad couldn't figure it out (trust me, I thank god that they never did now).

I was angry that I wasn't going to get the "happy ending" that I naively and understandably envisioned as a young girl who grew up watching unrealistic depictions of love from Disney movies and was not shown anything else about what an actual relationship looked like.

So when my mother decided to have more kids, I was old enough to where I could see how my mother would raise them from an outside perspective. I wanted my little sisters to have a better childhood than I did, and thanks to my step-dad and mom, there's no doubt that they had an amazing childhood.

I always wanted to protect them and give them advice and make sure that they dodge the many bullets that I had to take as a kid, who had a far more traumatic childhood than they could ever imagine (and I am HAPPY they don't know how that feels like).

But after recently watching my youngest sister graduate 8th grade as the valedictorian of her class, my “mother wound” ripped through my defectively sown stitches that I spent years sewing back together again.

I saw the way my mom would give my little sister random hugs, tell her how proud she is of her, brought her flowers, how close they are, how comfortable my sisters are going to my mom about any and every problem, how LOVED I perceive them to be by her. I held my internalized jealously, unworthiness and a few tablespoons of my lonely inner child together until after I was able to leave back home.

And on the ride home, all of the ingredients poured out of me. I completely broke down.

I have never, nor will I ever have that kind of relationship with my own mother. Though I wouldn't want it to be any other way for my little sisters, I am now watching them receive the love that I desperately wish I had gotten from my mother.

And that shit fucking hurts.

This also gave me the realization on just how deep this mother wound really is. How my sisters are versus how I am. How they managed their emotions, how comfortable they are expressing themselves, how they have gotten their needs met. How HUGE of a difference it is than how I was raised. It's like they are as emotionally developed as me after years of therapy, I never felt so emotionally behind and angry at the same time. It's like I felt like that had been taken away from me, and I have spent most of my adulthood just learning to function like a secure teenager.

I remember giving advice to my little sisters from the unconscious viewpoint of my traumatized-induced mind and them looking at me like I was the fucking child, they had no clue why the hell I was speaking of random fears out of my ass. I remember being so scared for them and that they aren't aware of just how dangerous this world could be.

And it took me a while, and a few years of therapy, to realize that they do not have deep, abandonment or unworthiness wounding like I had. That they actually don't have the same worries as I do. They do not hold as much fear as I do. That they do not have to mask who they are as much as I had.

And that's when it hit me of just how powerful and impactful it really is to have a mother show and express her love for her child. Not in an overbearing, helicopter type way or in an enabling way, but in a way that allows the child to feel comfortable expressing themselves.

How has the mother wound affected me?

The divine feminine in her power is nurturing, assertive, and loving. Therefore, the opposite can be overly critical or intimidating.

Unsurprisingly, I became overly critical of myself, put on a defensive "intimidation" mask of always trying to protect myself, and turned to men's opinions for validation (you know the horror is real when I seek an opinion from a man).

I remember having a very profound dream a few years ago when I was finally standing up for myself and asserting my boundaries towards my mom in reality. In the dream, she was extremely patient, understanding, and had a glowing presence that my inner child longed for. To be frank, in the actual dream I was getting anxious because there was paper towels in the toilet in my childhood home for some reason, and I was scared of my mom finding out. As I was pulling all of these random paper towels out of the toilet (the toilet was clean don’t worry), my mom kept saying very calmy with a warm smile on her face “it’s okay, no worries at all.” “It’s okay baby girl.” (baby girl was my nickname growing up from her).

I completely bawled and felt a gentle warmth in my heart when I woke up.

I felt that was her consciousness speaking to me.

Though I no longer sit and blame my mother for my suffering, I have realized that this is just my journey on reparenting myself.

How the fuck does that happen?

Well, not overnight that's for sure.

I acknowledge the pain of my inner child, and validate her. I no longer try to pretend that I am deft of emotions and that I have moved on completely. Which, by the way was just a defense response to constantly prove my worthiness by trying to do more to mask the pain of the eternal void that I felt (and still feel) inside sometimes from feeling lonely as a child.

I am valid in all of this hurt because it is still painful to see others have such a close relationship with their mother and how positively it has impacted their overall quality of life and well being.

Because it is still painful to see others live the life your inner child should have lived.

Because it is painful to still feel the invalidation, hurt, and cries for love from my inner child.

Though I no longer blame my mother, I still feel hurt.

And I am allowed to be. And that's really it.

One day, maybe the pain won’t be there anymore. Maybe it will only come out in certain triggers. But for now, this is where I am at.

But you know what’s fucking liberating about it all?

Is that I would not be here writing this if it weren't for this wound.

I would not have learned to set boundaries and speak for my needs if it weren't for this wound.

I would not have learned how to build myself back up if it weren't for this wound.

I would not have learned what it really means to forgive if it weren't for this wound.

And most importantly, I would not have learned how much power I really hold if it weren't for this wound.

My depth of empathy and understanding of other people and their patterns has allowed me to hold that same empathy and understanding for myself.

So instead of shitting on my mother because she was still enveloped within her own patterns and doing the best with the level of awareness that she had, I thank her.

And no, this does not mean that I feel that I deserved everything that I went through and that I invalidate myself.

It just means that I have realized how much I truly appreciate and love myself, no matter what stage of healing or discourse I have had to face. I have learned to truly accept myself, and that means accepting everyone else that has contributed to my journey too. I am thankful for that.

Because although it is my first time here on Earth, it is also my mother's first time, too.