I apologised to my Mum yesterday.
I apologised for judging her and thinking I was better than her for the past 28 years.
I apologised because I am ready to turn the finger pointing around.
You see through daily use of Neroli Essential Oil, the oil for intimacy, I unravelled a story I have been carrying since I was 8 years old.
And that story was that mother’s aren’t allowed to make shit choices.
I held her so accountable for choosing to stay married to my Dad and everything that unfolded from there that there was no room for forgiveness for her being a woman being forced to make a really hard choice and no room for myself to ever make a mistake or not know what I was doing in motherhood or adulthood.
For every person I judge is just a reflection of a rule I have made for myself that I am struggling to abide by myself. That I’m not ready to admit is just a choice I make and that that choice may also be flawed.
I decided when I was 8 years old I was going to show everyone just how clever I was and just how superior I was and conquer motherhood. I would tick all the boxes all the time and all of my decisions would be right – they had to be- because to ever be wrong would be to admit that she was allowed to make mistakes in my childhood too.
My 8 year old thought my parents were just dickheads. So dumb. So ill equipped to raise us I created a contract with my adult parent self that I could never achieve and I watched my parents through the eyes of judgement so my Mum was never good enough for me.
I apologised to her for this from the bottom of my heart because how dare I and how motherly is she to have always loved me anyway.
It was so childish and arrogant of me to assume that I understood her life better than she did. That I had more wisdom and skills to decide what path she was supposed to take.
And any mother I have judged since- especially myself – has been judged for triggering a part of me that cannot accept that mother’s aren’t supposed to be the source of infinite wisdom that always knows the right thing to do.
It’s in the decisions and the fuck ups and the stumbles and the cluelessness and the ability to love even when we are triggered and hurt that a mother can hang her hat and celebrate herself because this was her journey to work through and nobody else gets to be the judge of that.
There is no medal for motherhood because there is no best mother award.
There is simply a motherhood journey where each mother keeps finding out more and more and more about herself through juggling raising humans and simultaneously raising herself.
Through facing the truth behind why another mother’s actions are so important to us we even go into judgement at all.
Judgement is simply a great big “Well shit I’m feeling insecure right now and being superior to you is the way out where I have to face up to the least”
The beauty on the other side of facing that is it’s always about us and never about anyone else’s actions or choices. We then get to be free of our own self judgement, we get release the rules we bind our lives by, which are the harshest and strictest of them all.
We finally get to see how wound up by trivial bullshit we really are.
I’m releasing my fear of ‘fucking up my kids’ by making the wrong choices because I always choose what I feel is best at the time, I can always change my mind and despite my heavy investment in holding onto my parents choices that I decided where wrong- they were right at the time – they were choices not made lightly and they didn’t fuck me up at all- in fact that made me exactly who I am today and breaking free of being bound by them will make me who I am tomorrow.