Dear Reader,
I'm not as tough as I used to be and sometimes it makes me feel like a failure--like I'm settling for less. I've always prided myself in being strong. People admire you, "Look at her, nothing fazes her."
Being tough was something I learned from my mother. My father was an alcoholic and even though my mother was a woman who struggled with her self-esteem, somewhere along the way she latched onto how to be strong, how to be tough. She never talked about it, but I knew from watching her, that my mother felt she could always find a way to do what needed to be done. And she did. But being tough, it took everything my mother had, and unfortunately it left her with nothing to give back, except a daily lesson about how to be tough.
I used to be angry, where was my mother's softer side? Why were the words, "I love you," and "I'm proud of you," so difficult for her to say. But then, when I thought about the day-to-day things that happened in our family when I was growing up, I realized there wasn't any room for her to let down. You can't be soft when you're struggling to survive.
Having a sense, that I will be okay, that I can make it through no matter how bad things might get--I have my mother to thank for that gift. And through the years I've come to realize that it really was a gift. Love comes in many forms. Sometimes it's disguised, looking rough around the edges, but being tough was the skill that got my mother through her life and she wanted to make sure that I made it through, too. She did indeed love me and she passed along the best she had to give. And I thank her.
I'm not angry any more, because now I understand. I've taken my mother's gift and softened it, which means I'm not as tough as I used to be, and it feels pretty good. I wish my mother would have had a chance to feel it, too.
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]
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