My Mother Will Never Love Me Unconditionally

My mother is who she is and that will never change.

Those words will always be the most profound statement that will forever be etched into the scars of my trauma that came from my mother’s inability to be the mother I needed filled with her love ingrained with the presence of her comfort.

I am who I am because of who my mother was and is.

Those words will always be the clarity I needed, finally seeing the way I viewed the world sewn together into the identity I confidently held inside of myself, was rooted into the trauma of my mother’s inability to change, become different, or see her own broken pieces while always placing a microscope into the wounds of mine from the time that I was born and placed into her arms.

Those words will always be the life changing words inside of my thoughts giving me the courage to let go of who I was by acknowledging that I would now live every day loving myself enough to know that I am no longer living in a house engulfed in the flames of my mother’s own unacknowledged trauma and left to burn forever.

My mothers own fear of abandonment never allowing her the ability to create or maintain a stable bond with me would slowly seep out of her, and on to me adding abandonment issues into my DNA.

I no longer silently sit next to the familiar feeling of abandonment wrapped in a blanket of fear in the stillness of the morning, as I collected more and more self-worth, fear of abandonment finally left my side, but still always laying with my mother every night as she casts her children away, fear of abandonment only allowing her the ability to unconditionally love the child she never left.

I was never my mother’s daughter, but only her source of comfort allowing her to love herself.

I was born into the role of becoming the one meant for keeping the peace inside of my mother’s anger turned to sadness rarely becoming happiness, always caring for her inside the reversed roles my mother learned to be normal from her own mother.

my mothers constant need to feel the comfort she lacked from her own mother would always whisper quietly into her ear that it was okay for her comfort to come from me in the days of my being the little girl that would do anything to feel the nurture and comfort of my mother; for it to only be given inside the aftermath of her rage filled with my tears as she whipped the belt in her grip leaving the red marks of her anger onto my skin.

My mother would slowly show me as a child to always accept and love the erratic emotions exploding out of her into me, giving her the power to make sure I would never know when I would become worthy enough to feel her love and affection.

Inside my secret thoughts of wanting so badly to be the daughter my mother loved unconditionally, I would become best friends with my anger knowing that it never abandoned me, always shining bright and bold hiding away the sadness, resentment, and hurt I had for the little girl that I was with no mother to love her.

When the world was watching, in the moments of attention my mother would knock on the door to my heart, becoming the mother I silently longed for so badly, the world would say she was finally the loving mother I always needed.

But in the dark room of the shadows of who my mother is, her resentment for me as the little girl leaving her mother will forever steal any love she once felt for me in the bond of mother daughter we have never attained.

My mother will never be able to unconditionally love me.

My mother let me go as a child.

My mother so tightly holds her anger and resentment with no space for her unconditional love inside the space in her heart meant for me, it will always remain stuck inside the sadness of her own thoughts telling her over and over that she did not abandon me inside of my childhood, but I simply abandoned her, left her, as I walked out of the door to live with my father as an eleven year old little girl.

My mother will never admit to the feelings in her thoughts of my leaving her as a child in her state of soberness, only allowing them to come out in the times she found herself next to me as her truth spilled out through the courage of alcohol flowing through her body.

“You never loved me, you don’t love me, go run back to your dad, just like you always have, you only love your dad.”

Only in the drunkenness of my mother would those words leave her mouth.

My mother is who she is, lost, broken, controlled inside her fear of abandonment, stuck in her lack of self worth, with no identity of her own, from her own trauma she cannot escape coming from her own mother to her.

My mother is who she is & that will never change.

The most profound statement that will never be a part of who I am inside my own story of motherhood.