The Motherload ...

Show me those teeth
Originally uploaded by Rivamist
For the past month now, I have been exploring "Mother" in all forms: mothering my little one; all of the voices within me that needed a place re: my own mother; understanding and finding compassion for both my mother and my lack of being mothered. Which brings me to an additional piece : the only "live" beings that I have ever mothered were my former cats and then dogs. And, interestingly enough, up until now, I repeated the very same patterns that were modeled for me by my mother. This wasn't even a "bleep" to come up on my radar, until I saw the total contrast of seeing myself with my own dog and the tender moments we've had of late.

A litter of small kittens was left on the doorstep of one of the group home's I supervised in the city, during the height of my alcoholism. They had no homes and I decided to take 2 of them in. They were tiny, required a lot of attention and would jump on me constantly. In my drunken stupors, I would throw them off of me and basically considered them a total nuisance. While I did feed them, provide water and change their litter, I provided little else. My drinking came first. When I stopped drinking, I did not necessarily become a better parent to them. They did sleep with me in the bed and I can remember moments of them purring beside me and yet, I only had a small tolerance for offering up a significant amount of attention. And then I met my former partner, who was allergic to cats, and it didn't take me long to find them a home of a work colleague and I gave them away. It is only in this moment that writing this is like punching myself in the gut. I gave them up because I gave my power away to the needs of my partner and never looked back. It feels like a replication of my own adoption process, in which I was "somewhere" for 9 months, even named, and then given away.

A number of years later, my ex and I bring in our 1st dog. It is clear from the very start, that this is HER dog. She cooed and ahhh'd and gave so much attention to this dog, that I felt tossed to the side. Over time, if she was on the sofa and had the dog in her lap and I wanted to be close to her, the dog always came first. I was an after thought. So my own mothering with this dog was limited and again, I made sure she had all the basics, though I didn't give her the kind of attention my partner did. When I think about this dynamic, I think about the birth of my brother. It was the only time I saw my father showing any form of caring to any of us. He would bounce my brother on his lap, while balancing his beer glass (I have a picture to prove it !) and he would look at him and giggle and smile. I saw this for the first few years of my brother's entry into our home. And I was very jealous. And my mother, who would sit across the room and watch this occurring, appeared to be detached, more removed. Perhaps she experienced what I did with my ex and her attention for the dog. And my mother didn't give my sister and I any more attention either, in fact, she went away more.

5 years after the 1st dog was brought into my ex and I's life, our 2nd dog arrives. She was acquired when my ex was out walking and couldn't drive because of recuperating from a hysterectomy. She found her at a pet store and she happened to be from the owner's own litter. I fell in love with her from the 1st moment I met her and yet, my time and attention to her was piecemeal, as the substance abuse of my ex built momentum and I disappeared in all ways. Again, this is a duplication of what occurred with my mother. She did say that she fell in love with me from the moment she picked me up. And, over the years, as my father's drinking escalated, she went farther away. I am allowing more compassion for her because I am able to see it in my own behavior and know the direct experience of what it is like to have a partner abusing substances and the emptiness and the absence of love and availability that you can offer because you're just barely staying afloat.

After I end the relationship with my ex, we split up the dogs. I take our 2nd dog with me, as she was not favored by my ex at all. I couldn't bear the idea of her remaining there, neglected. Over these past 3 years, while my attention has definitely expanded and improved toward her, I had this revelation very recently that I had still not been a good mother to her as I see how I've dramatically shifted in my growth and healing and see my tenderness and love and care for her that was not there previously. I had always ensured she was fed, had a warm home, walked, given treats -- all the basics. And she craved attention and affection, which I only offered sporadically. The work of mothering my little one and giving voice to all of the emotions that were dormant within me about my own mother, has found me so much more present with my dog. She lays on me while I read at night; she sits with me on the ottoman in the livingroom when I do my prayers. She has layed her face next to me on the pillow and gently put her paw on my shoulder. I talk to her a LOT. I sing little songs to her in the morning. I never did this before. It is clear to me that she feels and is responding to my availability and attention for her. And it is this contrast, that brought about all that has surfaced in this entry.

I am grateful every time I can have the courage and willingness to look within and do this kind of inventory. And to name what is here without judgment or shame.

And all of this coming to the surface, prompted a phone call to my own mother first thing this morning. To thank her for the card she sent and her generous check she enclosed. And to simply ask her how she is doing and what she may need in her new apartment. And to invite her out for lunch on New Year's Eve day, so we can talk.
It was a lovely conversation; in fact, I could hear her excitement about the fact I had called, which I've not been able to bring myself to do as I was deep in this work. And what we will talk about is not set in stone for me. The hurts and grudges and other voices have had their place on these pages and there is not an urgency any longer to have them brought up directly with my mom.

I will sort this through in my healing session this week. As my healer shared with me before -- when it's time to talk, and all the voices have been heard, what's left is just the truth. And that's the place where I want to connect with my mother. And from where I will continue to mother.