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The mother wound...


Why does a pie server take me back to 17 year-old me crying and screaming to be actually heard and understood?


Because clearly, I am still struggling with being heard by the one person who has known me the longest.


Because, when it was pointed out that we "needed" one, I replied that we are in fact happy to use a knife for the 2-3 times a year we actually have pie and we didn't need one.


Because if I wanted one, I would buy one.


Because instead of a loving gesture of providing, it feels like blatant disrespect.


Because it happens over and over again.


Like someone would rather assume to know what I need in my life better than me.


Like I am still a toddler, incapable of running my own household at 42 years old.


Like I am doing something wrong by not having something others see as a "need" that I don't.


That is the mother wound.


And it runs deep.


It's just a pie server, you say.


No big deal.


Nothing to get upset about.


But it isn't the pie server.


It is the desire to be heard.

------------------------------------------


That was me journaling out my feelings to discover where my emotional response stemmed from.


Post-Thanksgiving...2020


The work on MYSELF continues.


There is healing in writing it out. It also brings up the words of affirmation that I need to here.


My voice has value.

My opinion matters.

My choices are my own.



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