Lyrical Logic

A friend recommended the book Mother Hunger: How Adult Daughters Can Understand and Heal from Lost Nurturance, Protection, and Guidance by Kelly McDaniel to me. My mommy issues are no secret. So I ordered it.

I had no intention of starting it anytime soon. I bought it so I could tell them I had it, I just hadn’t started it yet. Then I discovered I had a kidney stone the same night that I was struggling with some serious FOMO about not being able to make it to Reba’s “One Night In Atoka.” And I was sitting in my office the next day and I was just thinking about how badly I just wanted a mom in that moment. I have a mother. If you’ve read my books, you’ll know that I have a mother, but I don’t have a mom. I had one, and that didn’t last because she took his side, as she should have.

But I genuinely was struggling with the fact that I didn’t have a mom. And so I opened the book. And it personally attacked me in the first chapter.

As a child, if essential elements of maternal nurturance and protection were missing, you didn’t stop loving yourself mother – you simply didn’t learn to love yourself. 

Ma’am. Ms. Kelly McDaniel? Yeah. I’m really, really going to need you to not call me out that hard right off the bat.

But the reality is that she was describing exactly how I have felt my entire life. It’s the same feeling that intensified itself on a Saturday afternoon as I was sitting on my couch trying to pass a kidney stone and I suddenly was sobbing because I didn’t have a mom. I was sobbing because Reba had been hugging fans after the show. And those of you who know, know. I would literally agreed to be executed immediately after if I could just have a thirty-second hug from that woman. Because it would heal my soul in so many ways.

I cried for a few hours Saturday afternoon. I cried for the mom I deserved. I cried for the mother that will never be the one I want to call. I cried for the six-year-old girl who realized her mom didn’t love her. And I cried for the woman I am now.

I knew what the feeling was. The feeling McDaniel describes in her book. I never knew it had a name though. I think as I read this book I will have the same moments of realization that I had after I was diagnosed with cPTSD. The relief of this thing finally having a name. The fear of what it means for my mental health moving forward. The anger that I even have to deal with this thing because someone couldn’t love their child. The sadness of adding yet another thing to the list of reasons I take three different SSRIs (one is mostly for sleep).

I think I’ve told you, I’m working on finishing up my third book. This one is fiction. And actually, I had a moment where I had to email my therapist and tell her I was annoyed with her. Well, the version of her that was in my head while I was writing, telling me what to say to the main character. But that project, “What Surrendered”, is coming together. I’m excited to see where it takes me. I know where I want to end up, I’m just not 100% certain how we are going to get there.

I apologize for the lack of a poem this week. But I’ve been doing NaPoWriMo over on Facebook and Instagram and those take up a lot of the little free brain power I have. And with my self imposed deadline for the next book quickly approaching, I’m doing the best I can to work ahead of the game. And tonight, while I sit here listening to “Cactus In a Coffee Can” by Reba on repeat, I just don’t have the extra brain power for a good poem.

Have a good week friends. I’ll talk to y’all next week.