Unpretty.

Sometimes we say we're over it, and we mean it, but we haven't completely healed. We have created a solution on a cognitive level, yet haven't taken the time to heal the heart. I know, because I am one of these people.

Every one of us has a toxic relationship with someone that has changed the way we look at the world. My mother was that person for me. She morphed my perception of the world and who I was and shaped it into whatever served her best. Insecurity and lack of trust allowed her to keep me close and vying for her affection. Fear and low self-esteem kept me obedient and small. Her love and contagious energy kept me in denial about how fucked up my childhood really was... Until it didn't.

We all grow up.
Despite her desire to manipulate my perception of her and the world around me, eventually, her bad decisions, toxic lifestyle, and unwavering negativity overpowered the many veils of my reality. Her weaknesses made me strong. I'm not sure she was expecting that. I loved her so dearly, I was determined to pick her up each time she fell. I was determined to carry the burden of her pain, anger, and resentment when it was just too much. Or when she was too drunk to function. Mostly the latter. And every time I stepped in, as my older sisters had done before me, I grew stronger. I carried the weight of my shortcomings and hers without growing very much resentment and hostility towards her. I loved her too much to resent her as my sisters later told me I should.

As I began to experience my own struggles of growing up, it was painfully clear that she wasn't capable of being the same support system to me as I had been for her. So with all of the strength I had created, I decided to choose myself. I left home young and chose to work through adolescence somewhere that I could breathe. I wasn't great at it.

I struggled to grow past the pain of not being wanted by my mother.
I struggled to grow past the pain of not being wanted by me...
I struggled with acceptance from a father that my mother told me to hate.
The more he showed up for me, the more the mirage my mother had created disappeared. Yet, with the complexities of life, my mental health, my dad's mental health, and my overwhelming feelings of not being worthy of love or acceptance as I am, I struggled with drugs, sex, and alcohol.

It wasn't fucking pretty.

But here is what I really need you to know. After years of struggle, unhealthy and healthy coping mechanisms, building, destroying, and re-building, I eventually created the mental space to forgive my mother.
Deeply.
Deeply and truly forgive her and understand her flaws, not as my mother. But as a fellow human being that had fears, and heartache; betrayals, and shortcomings. I cognitively chose my peace so I could change the course of history for my family. Pretty fucking awesome, right?

Not quite.
I healed my mind.
I healed my thoughts and perception enough to choose love and forgiveness and to see my mother from a different angle. But I didn't heal my heart. And the heart doesn’t listen to reason and is certainly not something to be rationalized with.
So the heart is the next journey then, isn’t it?

The heart it is then.