Oftentimes when I look in the mirror, I do not see the woman I am staring back at me, but the little girl that I was. Regardless of the time that passes –of the hair that grows or the eyes that age– part of me remains frozen in time at the age of four, crying to my mommy about a cut on my knee. Sometimes I think this is a phenomenon I will grow out of, yet when I look in my moms eyes and watch her quickly blink the same thoughts away, I am reminded that I will always see that little girl in the mirror, and she will always be looking for her mom.
My grandmother passed away when my mom was eleven years old, and the trauma of the event naturally impacted the way my sister and I were mothered. At her young age, there were many teaching moments my mom had missed out on growing up. She was not taught how to shave her legs, she was not taught how to use a tampon, so when the time came she was unsure how to teach us. Though my mom lacked the foundation and example of a mother figure mothering a child through their adolescent years, she had an excess of experience on mothering herself, which is a skill I am grateful she was able to pass down. The act of mothering yourself is important, because eventually we will all be out of our mothers homes, and eventually, our mothers will no longer be one call away. Times will arise when we are alone and ashamed, and the only shoulder to cry on will be the ones holding our heads up. In these moments we must know how to lean on ourselves without dropping our heads under the pressure.
The Past as the Present
My mom has never been one to shy away from a reminisce. If there is one thing she has taught me, it is to treat the past as the present, or rather, to treat the past as a present; as a gift. From Mr. Dressup to Shaun Cassidy, the most prominent memories of my moms life are all ones I am aware of. Through her stacks of photo albums, bins of vinyl records, and bags of vintage comics, she remains consistently and brazenly connected to all of the things that had brought her joy at one point or another, and she unapologetically allows these memories to continue to do so.
The past is rather easy to shy away from, as we hold it to such a high regard. Speaking for myself, the memories from my childhood used to be locked away in a glass cage in my mind. I didn’t allow anyone to touch them, myself included, as I felt they were preserved in a perfect state. Yet when I began excavating them, digging up memories I hadn’t remembered burying so thoroughly, I understood two things; the purpose they served in my heart was much greater than the purpose they served deep underground, and I didn’t need to lock these memories far away because they were safe with me; I could touch them without shattering them.
Be Gentle, Be Firm
I have always watched my mom alternate between treating herself gently, and firmly. Growing up, she bounced around more chaotically, yet as I grow into a woman myself, I see and understand the balance she has found. Mothering yourself is not about being gentle or being firm, but knowing when to do both. When she is grocery shopping and she wants to carry all the bags home in one trip because she knows she is able to, regardless how difficult, I see her drive to feel capable within herself; her drive to impress herself. When she is cleaning the house and asks for help, or when she takes a break from studying because her brain is one multiple choice question away from frying, I see her patience, I see her treating herself tenderly.
Love Thy Self
When I look in the mirror and I see the little girl I used to be looking back at me, I understand now that she will always be there, and so will the mother she is looking for. The little girl and the mother are embedded deeply within me, as I grow and age they will always remain, and now when I see those small scared eyes, sometimes I smile, sometimes I wink, but I always let her know I am here.
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