It’s funny how the most complicated relationship in a woman’s life is within herself with the mother archetype. Sometimes we revere other people’s mothers without looking at our own mom’s qualities. Sometimes we do that because they simply get on our nerves.
But we all, from infancy to elder life, need our mothers.
This issue of colective femininity which I’ve been speaking about here, seems to me a way of not being able to handle the mother archetype inside all that well — it goes way overboard and we think we have finally mastered it, but in fact it mastered us. That’s a mother for you.
Moms know how to push your buttons and what buttons to push — some buttons they’ve created themselves in order to get you to eat your vegetables. My mom’s favorite button is to call on my sensitivity. I get enraged every time. And you know why? Because that’s the criticism I tell myself all the time to get myself on a low mood. “Stop being so sensitive”, “You feel too much”. So when she pushes that button, my mind goes haywire and there isn’t a single mindful moment in my day to preach myself the mantra “I will not be angry”.
Today my mom left after me getting angry for the millionth time about the sensitive comment, and I realized she’s sensitive herself. It’s her way of teaching me the world is hard and I need a protective shell. That I cannot cry every time there’s a social injustice or every time someone criticizes me or something I do.
We all blame ourselves, constantly inside our heads, and we all blame our mothers for it. Who is our personal critic growing up, aside from mom? Usually dad. They make a nice pair.
So we call to the Goddess to be our mom. It’s easier, she’s not in our lives, we just think she’s all love and affection towards us and that’s all we can ever hope for from a mom. But she doesn’t bake us cookies, or put us to bed, or make us a tea when we’re sick. She doesn’t take us to the doctor or rolls our blankets when we’re cold. The Goddess makes a fine mom for her children, I guess. And she is in fact the mother of creation, and it’s even possible she covers us with her warm blanket when life seems cold, but she doesn’t make that special dinner only our moms know how to.
I have to say, I grew up eating meat in my house, and my mom would make this amazing spaghetti with chicken. It’s the only meat dish I miss.
Thank you, mom. I am too sensitive and I do need you to teach me sometimes how to have a protective hard shell.