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My Parent Wound: My Expectations vs Reality

This blog will certainly have its different flavor... I am writing without having had completion around the current trigger I have been struggling with for at LEAST 12 years now. I am writing because I need to get my sad story I continue to identify with, off of my chest and out of my life.

I know what I need to do, and the cost of what I am currently doing, but in this case for some reason.. I struggle to discontinue my disempowering beliefs.

In the past, I’ve had such negative opinions as to how I was raised and the parenting that I received. It was easy to label my dad as the negligent couch potato, that raised me on tough love, small amounts of attention and through drunken lectures. My mother I have seemed to create this story about our lack of deep connection and bond as most more than likely have.

My dad over the past four years has really redeemed himself to me. When I moved away he quit smoking cigarettes as I spent the first 10 years of my life begging him to do. Then, as I found myself alone and looking for guidance, he evolved into my rock where I can run and turn to for advice and someone I could bounce ideas of of. His attentiveness over the phone suddenly made all of my silly stories and excuses lesson.

I was finally gaining the love and attention that I’d been yearning for all along. His missing me, enabled him to make more of an effort to reach out to me and be a part of my life it felt. The craziest part is, when I confronted him to the awareness I had created as to what my disconnect was, he found it hurtful and upsetting that I claimed he was never loving or supportive.

How crazy? He didn’t agree with the monster of a man perspective I had painted him out to be.

In fact, I began to realize that I was attached to the thought of who I thought he should be. Who I really feel like he could still become or was meant to be. However, he is completely content with nothing more than sitting in front of his tv with a cold beer watching tv. He thoroughly enjoys doing just that as one of the things he loves most in life. While I might never understand it, I began to accept that is entirely and solely his decision.

Over the years.. I have really forgiven him and come to terms with who he really is and who he has become to me. As if a veil was lifted, I am now present to the father figure where he is my reliable source of and dose of reality.

My mother on the other hand...

I’ve created this terrible story about how emotionless she is, how disconnected we are, she is far too materialistic, superficial and surface deep on most things. Due to her lack of education she is unable to have a quality conversation of any value which in turn leaves me feeling disinterested in reaching out to her to hear about the latest gossip in town and what old things she is still playing victim to. It infuriates me, how could she continue to settle for less than she deserves? ALL THE TIME. She is constantly taken advantage of and walked all over on. She never stands up for herself or what she wants. She never takes responsibility of the life she has and makes the best of every situation. She is unconfident, she is scared, she is lazy and she is comfortable. My mother won’t ever open up to me about anything. She will never let me in, just continue to put up her walls and shut me out time and time again. I am to the point where I have given up and don’t even care to continue to make an attempt.

I feel like I have spent my entire life care taking my mother. I can’t stand that she doesn’t help herself. I’ve brought her home so many applications to places that would pay more and treat her better.

Recently, I had a teammate ask if they could coach her for free and she managed to mess that up by not showing up. Awesome.

Then when I confronted her about it she acted like an attacked child.

The more I just write this out the more ridiculous my judgements are and catty it feels like I am being. But it hurts, and it has for years. So I write, the more I write the more I let go of. The more I let go of, the more room I have for more love.

What I have created is the feeling that:

My mom is more of a friend than acting like a mother
My mom is uneducated, unintelligent, and irresponsible.
She holds grudges, bottles everything up and rather be victim than in charge of her life.
She is unhappy but does nothing to help herself.
She blames everyone and everything for her misfortune.
My mother is someone who embarasses me often.
She is childlike and immature.

I hate that she made me take care of her more times than i should’ve.
I hate that I felt more like her mother than mine.
I hate that I want more of a better life for her than she does herself.
I hate that I can’t control her and that i can’t help her.
I most of all I hate how ashamed or embarrassed of her that I am.

The worst part is that all I need to do is come with acceptance and compassion for who she is as a whole and how amazing she is despite the silly stories I choose to focus on that is ripping our relationship apart.

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