February 23, 2016

To Massacre Timidity—Finding the Beauty Within.


A lot of little girls grow up wanting to be just like their mothers.

They look up to them, they adore them, and they can’t imagine their lives without them.

For some of us we don’t know that feeling. For some of us the closest we may get is knowing once upon a time, when we were small and oblivious, we felt that way. For some of us all we have is the used to be.

For those of us who live off of the used to be, we don’t always give ourselves the justified credit we deserve for making it out in this life without being completely screwy.

The problem is, even on days that we feel like we have survived, mommy issues are terrifying.

They imprint on skin and brains the fear that genetics may play such a large role in the powerful play of our lives, that growing up to become just like them is an indefinite possibility. They make having children and being half as bad of a mother as she was, gnaw at somewhere uncomfortable when people ask about the “ideal future.”

The worst part is the unknown answer to the question, “Will I ever not be terrified?

What I have learned in the last few years, and what I am still reminding myself of on a daily basis, is that we create our own destinies and genetics are only half the battle. I have come to the realization that if we are afraid of something, the only way to overcome it is to defeat the thing that scares us.

Sometimes the traits of them we see in ourselves are enough to suck the breath from our lungs and make it hard to find enough air to fill them with. As we grow, we have to battle ourselves and forced ourselves to remember that we are not them and the logistical probability of turning into what they are, is nearer to 0% than 100.

The point here is this, we as humans are attached biologically and emotionally to our mothers, but not all mothers know how to play the role.

The point is to remember to take it with even the smallest grain of salt.

The cards we are dealt may not be the best and they may be unfair, but we can still win the game. After all, poker isn’t about the cards in your hand, but rather how you compose yourself.

If we hold crumbly composers with unsubstantial structures, we are bound to obliterate. If we hold ourselves up and breathe in the love that others provide, even when someone who should, can’t, we will stand strong.

If we open our eyes wide enough to see everyone who surrounds us with open arms, the vision of the one person who can’t care for us in the right way will be erased.

So build yourself with bricks instead of straw and rub the haze away from your eyes in order to stand strong and see the beauty that engulfs you.


Relephant Read:

My Grandmother’s Schizophrenia Fueled my Purpose.


Author: Sydney M. Colby

Assistant Editor: Elizabeth Brumfield / Editor: Sara Kärpänen

Photo: Volkan Olmez / Unsplash 

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Sydney M. Colby