I am one of the lucky ones. One of the VERY lucky ones.
First, because at 43, I have a mother who is the compass of my soul. Second, because I have an amazing mom who always loved me, lifted me up, and put me first. Perhaps she should have put herself first in many occasions, but at least I can say that being on the receiving end, I felt loved beyond anything in my journey from little girl to woman.
Today. I appreciate my mom even more so. The more I age, the more I delve into my own motherhood, the more I realize what a warrior she always has been. How did she find the strength to do what she did, all the magical things? How did she do it on her own, without a tribe of other women, in a difficult marriage, and with no mother herself to guide her? How did she find the compass for right and wrong, and where did she find all the generosity of spirit she used to guide my brother and I? How did she cope when things got dark and lonely, who did she turn to? My mother lost her mother at age 23, and never had a strong marriage or a tribe of strong women lifting her up. It blows my mind to think of that.
How did she find the strength to send me to live in Europe on my own at 18, when there were no ways to track kids with GPS, and the only way to connect were weekly telephone calls (made from a public phone on the street)? The more I sit and think, the more is revealed to me, about the strength of my gorgeous mother. About her wisdom. About her faith. About her deep-compass to her own self. About her connection to the divine (she is a lovely witch who is very spiritually connected to wisdom from the beyond). About the solidity of her branches, sprouting flowers no matter how little sun or water she received.
As I fold the page into the newness of a new cycle of my motherhood - with my son about to wrap up his high school years and fly off to Europe himself - I wonder at my own mother's beauty.
I am so grateful to have her. To see her. To be sober so I can experience all the thoughts and feelings that my love for her brings me today. To have had the chance to make amends to her for my horrible behavior when I drank for decades and hurt her time and time over again. I am so grateful that I get to love her fully, presently - and in everlasting gratitude today.
This is what recovery is all about. Not about not drinking - but about holding space for the beauty of moments, of life, in a way that I never could when I was holding a glass of wine.
Thank you. To whatever incredible and magnificent God(ess) created the miracle of my mother; and of my sobriety, so I could love her with all my awareness.
Happy Mama's Day, preciosa. Te amo.
PS: The gorgeous dude in the photo is my brother, who is - in fact - more gorgeous on the inside than out.