Are you my mother ?

The Fleet Arrive
Originally uploaded by paulinuk99999
Despite my wish as I closed out last night's entry,  I experienced anything BUT restful sleep. The voices that want to be heard are relentless. And loud.

I recall a favorite book I read as a kid by P.D. Eastman, "Are You My Mother?" and that is one of the voices that wants to claim a place. I would venture to guess that this is the voice of a very early little one who wasn't quite sure, understandably so, where she actually came from.

A voice, however, that shouted over the others during the wee hours of this morning was this one: "Where were you when I needed you?"

This is a voice that has fear and terror in it. Pleading. Desperate. This is the little one who was afraid of the dark and instead of having mom tuck her in or read to her til she fell asleep, she was given a night light and told to put that on. This is the little one who wanted her back rubbed and told she would be alright when the act of vomiting scared her beyond anything and was instead given a basin on her bed and told to not get anything on the quilt and to empty it in the toilet. This is the little one who wanted to be cuddled when dad had a scary movie on and there were scenes that little girls should'nt have been watching and instead was told to "just go to your room if you're going to keep covering your eyes".  This is the little one who cried into a pillow when her father's drunken raging was terrifying and desperately wanted her mother to curl up with her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.  This is the little one who wanted a hand to hold, her hair to be stroked, her face cupped and looked at tenderly by her mother and to know that she was loved. None of these acts occurred; instead, this little one watched her mother buzz about the house in a frenzy, constantly in motion, cleaning and mumbling and straightening and busying.

All little kids have an innate need and desire, I think, to be nurtured and mothered. I watched my favorite aunt J do this with my cousins and I had such a longing. And such jealousy. And eventually, resentment.

It is clear to me now why I literally chased after, performed in front of, desperately tried to be the best student for all of my elementary school teachers -- who were ALL women. I wanted their affection and attention and love. I was looking to be mothered.   In Kabbalistic terms, I was in the territory of Yesod -- trying to connect and doing this on the outside of me, reaching for what I wanted from my mother. I didn't have the skills at that young age to soothe myself or to know how to locate myself. That's not what kids that age are capable of yet, developmentally. This unhealed place in me as a child eventually morphed into a people-pleasing, chameleon-like, shape-shifting, give your power away to others, adult.

As I finish typing this entry, I feel this voice quiet and settle. She has been given a place to claim.

I'll wait patiently and see who shows up next.