73 degrees today. Woke up with the same headache I had yesterday morning, only a little bit dulled. Was going to write but decided to hit the streets and do a little yoga, what my husband has called my thrifting trips. I picked up a pair of new Merrell sandals for $6.20 and a vintage top to list on my Etsy shop.
Home now working on a piece about my childhood and my complicated relationship with mia madre. The first line is: When you were young, she never told you were beautiful.
Motherhood is something isn’t it? I am introverted. I am a mother who did not feel loved when I was old enough for it to stick. I only saw the love in photographs. When I was a baby, a toddler. I did not grow up with hugs and had to raise, nurture, and heal three girls. Poor self-esteem (still) even though I have a husband who adores me in that fantastical way that I’d hoped for in the pages of my journal. I have three girls who look up to me, love me, want to spoil me, and when the youngest tells me I’m beautiful, my heart hurts and swells and I’m like, yeah. This is what it’s about. But sometimes I hate the haunting. No matter how much I write it out, talk it out, it is there. My mother and I are better. It will never be how it was meant to be. There will always be scar tissue but maybe this is how it was meant to be? Butterfly Effect. If certain things hadn’t happened, many things wouldn’t have happened. What a gut kicker.
Ooof...relatable. I hope your headache goes away soon and you get to enjoy the lovely warm days.