When a child spends her entire life trying to earn her mother's love, and is constantly rebuffed, that child learns the lie that she will never EVER be good enough, that no one can love her because, well, she just is not lovable. She knows from infancy that her mother does not, cannot, and will not love her. How sad, how tragic, and how utterly regrettable! Most tragic of all is not knowing who she is, and why she was born. Her identity is tied to to her mother, and since her mother finds her wanting, she is a bad daughter.
The child matures physically, but never really emotionally, because she is constantly seeking approval and love of the one person who should love her but who does not. As that little girl grows up into an adolescent, then a young woman, she tries to prove she is lovable, and tries to earn the love of anyone and everyone, but really trusts no one. She makes bad choices--really, really bad choices--and those choices only serve to underscore her insecurity, and her sense of worthlessness. And, if by some chance she makes a good choice, and finds herself in a relationship with someone who truly DOES love her, well, she does everything in her power to sabotage that relationship. I mean, seriously, no one really loves her or values her, right? That person must be using her, or must love someone else more, or must have some evil, ulterior motive. Her identity is tied to her friends, or boyfriend, or husband. Who is she really though? Is she a friend? A girlfriend? A good worker? Like a chameleon she changes her identity to reflect the people who give her attention.
So this young woman bumbles through life, trying to earn love, trying to feel loved, trying to be lovable, and, just when she thinks it is hopeless...she becomes a mother. Oh sweet joy! She immediately adores her children, and knows, without a doubt, those children love her. She basks in their need for her, revels in their happiness, cries when they are hurting, and sacrifices her own identity to them. They are her life. After almost 30 years of searching for someone to love her, she has found it. Her children grow, and thrive, and she tries oh so hard to be the kind of mother she wishes she would have had, but it's hard when you have no example, no blueprint to go by. She reads and watches other mothers, and she vehemently promises she will NEVER repeat her mother's mistakes with her children, but alas, some of the behaviors are so ingrained, so much a part of her psyche, she stumbles. She recovers her balance, but always ALWAYS in the back of her mind is the litany, "you are not good enough, you will never be good enough." She is a mother. Her children define her.
Then her children leave home, as children often do when they grow up, and they go to school, fall in love, get married, and become mothers themselves. The woman, now middle-aged, experiences the ecstasy of being a grandmother, and it is love at first sight when she meets first one, then two, then more children of her children. Oh happy day! How wondrous! She is a grandmother and a nana! She has so much love her heart is bursting, and her grandchildren love her oh so much! But wait. What if she is not good enough? What if her children resent her? Maybe they wished for a better mother, just like she did (and still does). Maybe she isn't a very good grandmother.
So on and on it goes, and the woman, now growing older, feels helpless in her search for an identity, in her quest for feeling loved, for deserving love. All throughout her life, ever since she was 7 or 8, she felt love, love not of this earth, and she clung to that feeling with every morsel of her being. It was her safety net, her life jacket, her parachute when she felt like she would never be loved, never feel love. And no matter what she did, or how hard she tried to ignore it, that Love was always there, warming her, reminding her she is loved, even if she didn't always feel loved. And it is in the sunset of her life, the woman finds and holds onto her true identity. Yes, she is a daughter, a friend, a wife, a veteran, a mother, and a grandmother. But the golden thread holding her together is the realization she is beloved, fearfully and wonderfully made, a child of God.
This identity has been there all along, trying to be THE identity, the one that matters. But these other identities are strong--they are selfish and vie to be on top. They tell her, "you are not a good daughter, you are not a good friend, you are not a good wife, or good mother, and you could be a better grandmother, so give up on this child of God thing. You are not worth it." The woman has to constantly push these feelings down, call them what they are...lies.
It's exhausting. Frustrating. Emotionally draining.
She is loved. She is good enough.
Isn't she?
