This Is Me Maria

Although she died when I was 11 I have come to the realization that a lack of a stable maternal figure existed long before her death, possibly never existed at all for me.

I am making it up as I go along. I have no blue print. I am doing this absolutely alone.

My early years as a mother were spent striving for perfection. A goal I never attained and got tired of chasing. While I do have 4 years of early childhood education under my belt, I know that the edge of what I know is looming in the distance.

I really don’t know how to handle older children. What will I do when my children reach the age my sister and I were when my mother died? What will I do when they become teenagers?

I felt alone on so many levels back then, trying to figure out how to be the best mother that I could be and I probably had some kind of experience as someone must have cared for me reasonably well as a baby.

I wonder how much lonelier it will be as a parent of teenagers with absolutely nothing to draw from but the dysfunctional story between me and my last living parent.

I am going to be in therapy forever…