Dear Anita,

I will say the following (and pardon me if it is not exactly what you meant above, but as you know this is a new/difficult topic).

I have some empathy for the role of her as a mother.  In some ways.

I do not believe my mother was fit to be a mother, or perhaps even a wife.  Someone like her in the society we are in now, dating, marriage based on choice, etc – may have been divorced multiple times – or maybe not.  Regardless, I do not think that this excuses at all what she did.  No way.  I am also not saying like the courts “pleading insanity” and thus, absolving her of all responsibility.  Absolutely not.

But I know this.  The role of a mother is a difficult one.  I know this, and I am not even a mother yet – so I can only imagine.  It is a role that many have, but not all succeed at.  As you mention time and again, there are many abusive parents out there in the world, projecting their issues and insecurities on their children in a myriad of ways.  Many unseen to the naked eye – and perhaps “unseen” to the children.  These children grow up to be adults and might find conflict in the workplace, or in their marriage – and many of those roots go back to childhood.  We are a reflection of our parents, for better or worse.  Some growing into healthy neuropathways, some not so much.

My mother is entirely guilty.  But I do recall feeling close to her, authentically close to her.  I remember a time in which I didn’t resent her so much. Feeling excited to come home, to no one else, but my mother.  My father was at work – and friends weren’t a large focus at this time.  I recall this come to think of it, feeling simple and happy.  The role of my mother – yes, I do recall love and softness for it. For no other reason than she was my mother – that is simply it.  Just like a doe, a deer.  My mother could have been incredible, or horrible it wouldn’t have mattered.

Just like my dog’s affection towards myself and husband, as though we are his real parents.  He does not know any better.  To him, we are the world – the way he can survive in the world, by getting food, first and foremost, and comfort when he is scared.