Prose: Growing Up

I’ve grown up. I’ve grown into me. I’m not the yielding, sweet girl I once was. I’ve learned to say no when I don’t want to do something…most of the time. I’ve learned it’s okay to be disliked, even intensely disliked by anyone, even members of my own family.
I remember one of my older sons saying to me, several years ago as I was reprimanding a younger sibling of his, “I liked you better when you were my mom, how you were when I was little.” I understood. I had been sweet, naïve, wounded and learning mothering by the seat of my pants. And his father was around as an enforcer. I hadn’t yet become a single mom to three children, having to be both mother and father to them. I had yet to have a partner who slept with all my friends. Life hadn’t shown me the other side of its face clearly yet. The side that brings difficulty but also brings growth. I hadn’t yet begun to come into my own yet.
I understand he liked the sweeter me. She’s still there. She gets to come out and play with her grandchildren. But she also knows better than to trust the untrustable and to give herself away. Learning discernment was a long road of observation and trial and error.
Life is an experience and, hopefully, a learning tool for growth on many levels. I’ve grown up. I’ve come into my own. I can let other people have their feelings while I definitely want to have mine as well.
Could I have done it differently, more gently, been more consistent. Perhaps. Yet my path, like everyone else’s, has been unique to me.
I’m still learning the self-nurturing aspect. There weren’t that many people out ahead of me to model that when I came to the realization that I needed to be in the equation as well. That it wasn’t just about everyone else. It was about me too.
Jyoti