I’m writing this from a place inside that is flooded with tears. The walls are buckling and soggy, the plaster’s turned to grey paste, the lawn looks like a marshland, and the sky is dim and cloudy with more tears in the forecast. This place has many names, some of them are: Shame, Grief, Not Good Enough, Loss, Fear of Loss, Torture and The Insufferable, Borrowed Time. There is also an immense amount of love bound up in this place.
In this dark place, glows an almost completely hidden light— hidden by PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, physical suffering, and the neurologic disadvantages of my Autism. There are golden, luminous threads that radiate this light. They are strong, they cannot be severed, and they hold my broken heart together. The connection between these magical threads and my heart is one created by miracle or an arrangement of cosmic law, something sublime and beyond my fathoming. This connection is the bond of unconditional love, and it pushes all of my boundaries. I find that I do the things I’m most terrified to do. I know that I cannot fail. I must give parenthood all I’ve got. It’s hard, very difficult to be out and about, dealing with adults and other parents who do not understand or respect me, adults who do not even respect my children.
I’ve never fought for myself but I’ve found strength to fight for my children. As a kid, I would never fight back— physically beaten and emotionally conquered, I could not utter one word for “help”, I could never advocate for myself. But I’m finding that there’s a flame inside me that powers this Person that I am, that acts on feelings and instincts that are stirred whenever my child needs me.
I watched a video today from UpWorthy, that was taken from StoryCorps. It’s an interview between Bonnie Brown and her 15 year old daughter, Myra. Their story resonates with me, it reminds me of that dark place, but most importantly, it gives me permission to value that place. Bonnie Brown has an intellectual disability, but that NEVER stood in the way of her calling to be a good mother. She worked hard and did whatever she could to ensure her daughter knew she was loved, and to secure opportunity for her. Myra, in a voice of admiration, pride, and gentle, deep love, shows gratitude toward Bonnie, recalling her childhood and the realization of her mother’s struggles and unconditional love. This is a LOVE STORY people! This story caused me to remember and treasure my own story. I draw much strength from this mother-daughter tale and have already watched it three times today.
I want to share it with you, because you need it too.
Here are both appearances of their story.
How does this resonate with you?