Whoa, two posts in one day?
I was just plucking my eyebrows (and upper lip) in a 10x magnifying mirror – a weekly examination of my face. Really looking, after a tumultuous day of phone calls and inner examination. And I was looking at my face and feeling glad that Joy knows my face, with all its imperfections. And my ‘big bones’ and pear shaped body.
I can almost laugh at the futile efforts I put into trying to be good enough for her, trying to come up to the standards of her aparents. I was suddenly struck by the absurdity of ME trying to be ‘as good as’ her amom. It’s not just the stupidity of comparing myself to a more (in my mind) fortunate woman. More fortunate because she raised my child. Trying to live up to what she had become accustomed to never served us.
I suddenly got a brief glimpse of how much Joy needs to see me, her mother, her biological heritage. She had the other mother to compare herself to all her growing years and the futility of trying to match someone else’s genetics. She deserves to see ALL of me, the way a kid I raised would, warts and all. She deserves to see where she came from.
That is another one of the absurdities of our relationship. I didn’t have the luxury of mothering, loving, caring for her needs. So I got it in my head that who I was wasn’t good enough for her. I desperately wanted to show her I was ok. I didn’t want her to be ashamed of me.
If my ‘raised kids’, Buster & Ezzy, thought I was foolish or inappropriate I always figured they just had to deal with it. REALITY. But I tried to alter reality for Joy, to be a ‘better’ mother than I really am. The best I can be for her or anyone, is just me.