Therapy by a Mom

Trapped inside herself, is a woman yearning to succeed

A role model? Me? A person worth imitating? How can that be? I struggle with myself over who I need to be and doubt the person that I am. A woman lost in herself, in love so deeply with two little pieces of who she introduced into this life. Living for them, in attempt to make every right decision, while sometimes making the wrong. Smiling when truly wanting to cry, and questioning my abilities while answering  their doubts. A constant encourager to remind them they can, where is my role model when I need her most?  Who is it? My Mom, my sister, or perhaps a friend? My spouse is so dear, but a man cannot understand, the female bonding of a mother to her child. I carried this being inside of me, my body changed, my emotions DRAINED, and this little piece of Heaven is now on earth, for me to nurture, and lead down the path. "The path?" Is there a "path?" I guess it is feasible to brand it an avenue?  They will have their choices to take this avenue, take it straight & narrow, or they will change their mind and take a turn, and then there is the notion of coming to a dead end?  I must except that I cannot always be the driver, I suppose being the passenger is just as supportive of a parent as any type of brace to your child. I cannot cushion them from every fall, or protect them from every despair, I must discipline myself to allow them to direct me in a way that assists them in their choices, their ideas, and their needs as well as wants. I think that a Mother needs to be able to let go when she feels the strongest to hold on, she needs to set free the fears and welcome the possibilities. A mothers admiration for her child is so intense, that she holds it so tight, afraid to let go, unknown to how the release will survive without her guidance. Til this day, the woman in me strives for my mom, my grandmother, all of the predominant women who effected my life, but I find myself alone in my own emotions, as the most important women in my life have left this world, or have moved quite a distance. I miss the touch of their hands, the healing of their hugs, the coziness in their homes, and the protectiveness in their voice.

Therapy by a Mom, that Mom is Me.

Fran Curto 2011