I’m a mother. And I’ve fucked up. I’ve hurt my children… un-intentionally. And I’ve always had THE BEST intentions. It can be both: the best intentions and causing pain to our children.
It all matters.
The work of the mother wound and your inner child is not to start pointing fingers at our mothers. This helps no one and perpetuates blame.
The reality is, the hurt of what we carry, goes far back, passed through our blood lines and lineage. It can almost feel untraceable. We could spend a large portion of our time trying to figure out where it all started but it actually doesn’t matter.
What matters is that it lives inside of you (us) and we can learn to be with pain and suffering, whether it’s ours or an ancestral wound..
THIS IS THE GIFT… we can decide that it ends with us (ok, cheeky, yes… let’s not go there).
Our mothers and the mothers before us suffered. The intergenerational trauma is deep and wounded. Blame creates shame. By sitting in blame we are relinquishing our responsibility with the here and now. What we can do as women is learn to show up for our wounds, learn to lick them, honour and validate how we feel so we can flip the narrative.
If you have been pointing your finger towards those who have wounded you, you will stay stuck. This may be hard to hear, but it’s the truth.
Once I showed up for my pain and wounds, my whole life shifted. Through the approach of mothering, I have learned to meet my needs; both my inner child and my grown ass adult self.