Families are funny things. You see your family at it’s best, worst, and everything inbetween. You know secrets, pet peeves, and things they don’t think you know. And you think — wow, if this family can work, despite everything, then why do so many people give up?
I had a post in my head for nearly a year now, about my mother. I’m nowhere near (nor will I be) the level of motherhood she attained, having borne and reared nine, but I’m starting to understand her more and more. And I always wondered, on my weak days, how many times did she feel desperate and what did she do about it? With a growing family and a small income, did she ever turn on the shower just to cry?
And now I add in the question of marriage. It’s no secret that I never thought they were a great match, but surely she did for a while. How often did she feel desperate and trapped? What did she use as an outlet?
This week my mind is racing. Suddenly I feel like it’s okay to think all those things I thought growing up, but I know it isn’t because it isn’t nice. I hope my younger siblings are doing okay. I hope that this change can bring peace, comfort, solutions. But what I hope most of all, is that now that Mum is finally doing something for herself, after losing herself in the service of her family for three decades, that she will rediscover what a vivacious, intelligent, woman she is. I hope that she will become the woman she wants to be, and that I always knew she was.