For much of my life, I carried what I now understand as a Mother wound.
As the youngest of six, I longed for the kind of Mother I saw other children have. I remember looking at Moms on elementary-school field trips and feeling something deeper and more wholesome than jealousy or anger. It was a painful longing. A quiet, aching wish for someone who felt safe, steady, nurturing, truthful, and strong.
That wound followed me into adulthood and affected how I saw myself, my relationships, and even my years as a young Mother myself.
Recently, while riding my bike, a question occurred to me:
If I could choose any Mom in the world for myself, who would I choose?
I thought of women I admire—wise women, compassionate women, strong women, women who seemed to possess qualities I once wished my own Mother had.
But with each name came a realization: I wanted someone who was kind and strong. Someone who could comfort me but also tell me the truth. Someone who could pray with me, laugh with me, help me strategize through hard things, and then tell me to get back up and keep going.
None of those Moms seemed to have it all, a fit for every bottomless need I had in a Mothering sense.
And suddenly, the answer came.
I wouldn't choose anyone. I don't have a vacancy anymore. I have me. And I would choose me.
Not because I’m perfect. By no stretch of the imagination is that true.
But because after years of recovery, therapy, faith, deep inner dive type reflection, learning boundaries, facing failure, forgiveness, running, praying, grieving, working through it ALL and learning to tell myself the truth, I became who I needed.
The little girl who once longed for someone to defend her has grown into a woman who knows how to support herself and guard her peace.
The girl who wondered if she was too sensitive has learned that sensitivity can be discernment and deep understanding.
The woman who once felt powerless has learned to face hard things.
And the person who once needed someone else to validate her reality has learned to trust in herself.
That realization didn’t erase what I didn’t receive.
It simply showed me that I no longer need to spend my life searching for it.
I can grieve and let go of what was missing without being consumed by it. I can love my Mother today without over analyzing yesterday. I can acknowledge the emotional injuries happened without living out of them.
And perhaps that’s one of the most beautiful things about recovery:
Sometimes healing isn’t getting the childhood you wanted. It’s becoming the person you needed.
If I could sit beside that little girl today, I’d tell her:
You weren’t defective. You weren’t too much. You weren’t crazy. You weren’t the problem. And one day, you’re going to become the person you needed.
And now I know she did.
Doing our inner recovery work...works.
If I could choose any Mother in the world, I'd choose to change nothing. I'd keep my own Mother and I'd choose the exact life I have.
Wishing you full circle healing,
Annie