In this book, But Nothing Happened", I'm writing on painful events of my own childhood and my method has been to write letters, mostly to myself. I'm making them up as a way to talk to my younger self- child, teen, young mom. Those are the seasons of my life that were most impacted by the pain of childhood. Pain I dismissed because nothing really happened.... but stuff did happen, it was abuse, it left scars. Saying that outloud and writing this book has been the most healing work I've done and I invite you to share in my journey.
Blessings to the young moms-especially those who can relate to my story. You are a rose unfolding.
1983
Jacksonville, North Carolina
Dearest young mom,
My older and wiser heart is so tender to you. You’re a great mom… and you always doubt yourself. You are admired by how you seem to be managing life but you’re not sure it's the real you being seen. Remember the time the Bible study group sat in a big circle at Jan’s house? We all had to go around and state one word we thought best described ourselves. You said, “Earthy.” That guy laughed— clearly, you were not seen as earthy.
You are so intimidated by a room full of confident Marine Corps pilots and their put-together wives. Now I understand they weren’t all that confident and most of the wives were just as insecure as you. Time can have a way of taking our focus off ourselves, we can see others in a more realistic way. Right now you don’t have your own voice yet and can’t express yourself well. I get it, even all these years later, I’d rather write my thoughts than try to say them. But that day you took a risk and blurted out what you felt. You spoke your truth. It wasn’t received well but likely, he didn’t know you. Why would he? You don’t know who you are either.
But still—in these early days of motherhood, you do feel earthy, connected to the earth and the garden. The sweet smell of babies clings to you. Your breasts heavy with milk, you join the automatic baby sway, the ancient motherhood response. You feel powerful in ways you’ve never experienced before. You pushed a baby out of your body and provide life-giving food!
But the highs last only for brief moments- then you slide into self-doubt and even depression all over again. Forgive yourself for the weeks of curling up on the floor, hugging yourself, ignoring that sweet, new baby. You were a hormonal mess and another baby so soon after his brother derailed you. Now they even have a name for postpartum depression, not that it will do you any good. This is a hard season; you are giving your best of your capacity right now. And you’ll go on to tell your story and hold the hands of other hurt and broken mothers. Nothing is wasted. Everything belongs.
I know you will lock those sweet little boys out of the house and scrub the kitchen floor with a toothbrush to get it clean enough. Their dad is gone a lot; you can’t control his schedule or their behavior but you can at least have clean floors. If you can forgive yourself, it will be a big step toward loving yourself. When you mess up ask for their forgiveness and forget it, they certainly won't remember. If they do remember, it’s their wounds to work through, none of us come out of childhood unscathed. It’s not your intention to scar but you are broken and you will make mistakes. It's ok. You are a good mother—you care, you touch, you listen. You love. And they do turn out to be delightful adult people- homegrown friends for life.
Moments come and go; a lifetime is enough to get love right.
Love, from the grandmother of your delightful children!
