Next week we’ll begin to see an endless array of photo and video tributes to mothers around the world. But as someone who tells stories for a living, I’m always curious to know the real narrative behind this content, mainly because I rarely take things at face value. I mean, let’s be honest, it is social media.
Beyond the picture-perfect smiles, I often think about the mother-daughter relationships that people rarely share or even talk about. At this very moment I can honestly say that my mom and I are best friends, but it has been a very complicated journey to get here. Fact is, we didn’t grow close until I got much older.
At 26, after years of reluctance, I finally revealed my darkest secrets to her through the best way I knew how–my first novel. While readers were touched by my truths, and it eventually went on to become a best-seller, my mother’s silence drowned out the applause. For years, I didn’t feel like I measured up to her standards and this apparent milestone was no different. Her reaction, or lack thereof left me feeling deflated. Do you know what it feels like to live under the same roof as a parent, yet feel completely emotionally distant? The openness I’d hoped for after the release of my novel just didn’t exist. But I kept trying because I knew that we were a work in progress.
Truth is, most Caribbean families don’t often speak of therapy. It’s simply not in our vocabulary. I’ve noticed that, instead, we grow to become quite comfortable with generations of silence. But as someone who struggled with mental health issues for decades prior, I just couldn’t accept this as my reality, and so I dismantled it. To no one’s surprise, my decision to do what I thought would be best for me wasn’t graciously embraced. My mom was upset because I had put the world on notice and had spoken publicly about the many parts of my life I had once kept hidden: physical abuse, high school bullying, date rape, teen pregnancy followed by an abortion, depression, dropping out of school, and suicide attempts.
Was this new or shocking to her? Probably. But most parents ignore the signs because denial is easier to deal with than the reality that maybe the environment they created for their child/ren wasn’t as safe as they assumed. It’s never easy to identify or even pinpoint the moment you lost your daughter. But my heart always remained open to reconciliation because I knew that moms are simply trying to do the best with what they know.
Knowing how complicated these relationships can sometimes be, despite how much we may yearn for more, I can only imagine how many people may feel as triggered and unseen as I once felt this Mother’s Day, and how many may feel pressured to make the perfect post just to fit in with all the noise. So with that in mind, I thought I’d do a quick check in with you.
How are you feeling? Are you okay?
I think about how many of us are still healing. How many issues haven’t been confronted because we’re too afraid to say anything? I think about all the taboo topics and conversations that we sweep under the rug; often ignoring the little girl within us who longs for a hug. The one who still has questions that need answers, the one who looks outside of herself to mend the heart that was shattered by the ones who were supposed to love her most.
We all have a past. I know I’m not the only one. But like some, not all, my mom and I made the decision to pursue a better relationship, and eventually found peace, though gradually.
So if you’re reading this and can relate, I hope that my words can help you hold on to the light that remains at the end of a long, emotional, and hopefully gratifying journey. And for those who may be unable to, I hope that it, instead, becomes a catalyst for you choosing to embark on a journey of your own; one that centres your happiness, your peace. The first lesson therapy taught me was that most moms are simply trying their best with the tools they have. While this becomes a lesson we truly understand as we age, it’s no less heart wrenching when you desperately want a relationship to work, but can’t find the words to help get it there. Even when you’re willing to meet someone halfway, the reality is, sometimes the relationship just isn’t reciprocal. The moment I learned to forgive and accept my reality for what it was, life opened up. Truthfully, I was actually okay with my mom and I never reconnecting, but then, just after my 30th birthday, we both committed to taking a baby step forward.
It was, by far, some of the hardest conversations I’ve ever been a part of. While I knew that the little girl in me needed this, adult me needed to ensure her safety. How’d I do it? Well, to be honest, it began with a lot of vulnerability. My novel has given us the topics to tackle, but the true depths of what those wounds did to little Pauleanna were things she deserved to hear. And, make no mistake, that was not easy. There were some days where she wasn’t ready to hear my truths. Or moments where her responses picked at scars I thought were healed. But that’s where repetition did the heavy lifting. We both had to commit to being present, and that sometimes meant returning to tough topics, no matter how many times, just to ensure we left nothing unturned. Those hard emotional conversations slowly created a foundation that infused the safety we needed to get to the next level, with the love and honesty we needed to always come back to each other. And, trust me, there were days where we absolutely needed our space.
It was in those spaces that I held onto the second thing that taught me: always show up for your own story. While storytelling is what I do for a living, and in a lot of ways, something I’ve been doing my entire life, by facing this painful relationship head-on, in that moment, I was showing up for myself; my story. No matter how painful it was, I had to show up for ME. And that’s exactly what I want for you. Though it took unimaginable strength, I had to rewrite a story that had been handed to me by a mother who was committed to neglecting her own pain. And while we wish to sometimes let life happen to us, it’s important that we show up for the parts of ourselves that need us most. And in my case, that was and will always be little Pauleanna.
So, as this holiday approaches, don’t feel pressured to share space with or content of any of the things have caused you pain, even if it’s your mom. While we all have a story, the path we take will always be different. But with a clear vision of what’s at the end of that journey–peace, happiness, or forgiveness–show up for it, and rewrite it as many times as you need to.