I'm a survivor, I'm not gonna give up...

When I think of survivor, I automatically think of my mother.  My mom and I have always had a tumultuous relationship.  We struggle with accepting one another.  I think it stems from each of us wanting to be the best that we can and wanting the same for the other.  It makes it hard to find a balance of supporting and encouraging without it feeling like judging or criticizing.  Last year, on the Silicon Valley Mom's Blog, I wrote a short piece about being my mother's daughter.   I'm republishing it here today to honor my mother again.

My Mother's Daughter

I've always admired my mother (although there were years that I would have adamantly denied that to the death).  She was raised in a most dysfunctional family; surviving alcoholic parents and a verbally abusive father.  Yet she did all that she could to be the best mom possible - doing a lot of "work" (and by work, I mean support groups and therapy and active living) to ensure that my childhood was leaps and bounds better than hers.  And she accomplished that.  While we had our up and downs in our mother/daughter relationship, we've made sure that we had true healing to leave forth a legacy that was loving and supportive. 

When I became a mom, I thought of all the things that my mother did right and all the things that, well frankly, I thought I could do better or at least different.  It's the cycle of parenting - you either conform to how you were raised or make a conscience decision to change it.  When I think about it, there's not a ton I would change.  I'm a lot like my mom - a more moderate version of her.  I like to think that my strengths are her strengths, only mine are more pronounced - mainly from the loving environment she created.  Her weaknesses are my weaknesses, only mine aren't as obvious.  She's very sensitive; I was lucky to learn her empathy but not her co-dependence.

So when my mother was over yesterday, I sat thinking all of this in my head, in my heart.  Thankful that she is my mother.  I'm grateful that I inherited her nature (although being able to cry if anyone is crying or at a touching commercial is not a trait that I really need).  I ran upstairs to change and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  Whoa - I not only inherited her personality, but I also inherited her big butt.  I am truly my mother's daughter.

This survivor post is dedicated to Susan at Toddler Planet who has just been diagnosed with breast cancer.  I don't know her, but I'm sending my love, thoughts, prayers, good karma her way.  The road ahead may be tough, but I have a good feeling that Susan is going to come out one bad-ass survivor. 

I've always admired my mother (although there were years that I would have adamantly denied that to the death).  She was raised in a most dysfunctional family; surviving alcoholic parents and a verbally abusive father.  Yet she did all that she could to be the best mom possible - doing a lot of "work" (and by work, I mean support groups and therapy and active living) to ensure that my childhood was leaps and bounds better than hers.  And she accomplished that.  While we had our up and downs in our mother/daughter relationship, we've made sure that we had true healing to leave forth a legacy that was loving and supportive. 

When I became a mom, I thought of all the things that my mother did right and all the things that, well frankly, I thought I could do better or at least different.  It's the cycle of parenting - you either conform to how you were raised or make a conscience decision to change it.  When I think about it, there's not a ton I would change.  I'm a lot like my mom - a more moderate version of her.  I like to think that my strengths are her strengths, only mine are more pronounced - mainly from the loving environment she created.  Her weaknesses are my weaknesses, only mine aren't as obvious.  She's very sensitive; I was lucky to learn her empathy but not her co-dependence.

So when my mother was over yesterday, I sat thinking all of this in my head, in my heart.  Thankful that she is my mother.  I'm grateful that I inherited her nature (although being able to cry if anyone is crying or at a touching commercial is not a trait that I really need).  I ran upstairs to change and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  Whoa - I not only inherited her personality, but I also inherited her big butt.  I am truly my mother's daughter.

This survivor post is dedicated to Susan at Toddler Planet who has just been diagnosed with breast cancer.  I don't know her, but I'm sending my love, thoughts, prayers, good karma her way.  The road ahead may be tough, but I have a good feeling that Susan is going to come out one bad-ass survivor.