What My Mother Did
Whenever Mother’s Day —and Father’s Day, for that matter— comes around, I get conflicting emotions.
My mother was one of the first to tell me I was fat. She was also the one who taught me about sexual shame and the need to please everybody but myself.
From her, I learned the best ways to hide my truth and run away from what would make me feel satisfied.
However, she also taught me why it is good to have conversations with people, to ask them about their daily lives, and why you should help them even if you get nothing in return.
She showed me it is possible to make a living and not have to depend on anybody to secure an income.
I’m sure both the best and the worst parts of me originate from her. How do I make sense of this?
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