Healing the Mother Wound

 As a child, I did not feel safe at home.

There were moments of safety, of course. My grandparents were a refuge. I loved being with them. And then there was my dog, my faithful companion, who offered comfort when the world felt frightening.

As I grew older, I began looking for safety elsewhere.

First in a boyfriend.

Then in other relationships with men.

For much of my life, I searched for protection outside myself.

Because trust had been wounded early.

I struggled to trust my mother.

I struggled to trust my sister.

And those wounds followed me into adulthood.

Today, I can see that healing happens through relationships too.

Just as my partner, Jack, helped heal a wound connected to my father, the women in my life are helping heal something equally tender.

My roommate, Chas, as well as other women, are a blessing for my child and for my well-being.

I used to believe that surrounding myself with lots of people would make me feel secure.

It didn’t.

Today, my circle is small.

Just a handful of people.

But they are honest. They are loyal. They are trustworthy.

And that is enough.

My little girl is learning that women can be safe too.