Shhhhhhh ! Don't Talk About Mother Love Gone Dead.....................

As mothers we love unconditionally,
that's the brief of motherhood...........................

till the heart forms a misshapen mass,
not able to beat the steady rhythm of unconditional love,
only a thready pulse of remembered love,

this journey to the edge of love is slow,
measured by tears and doubt,
frantic steps and missteps back and forth,
giving one's self away to hold on,
a tug of war between destinations,
travelling between the relics of mother love and castles in the air.............................

the love directed and sustained towards non adult children is assured,
the world of adult child and mother love appears fraught,
it is no longer so easy to forgive careless and cruel words,
the language is no longer cushioned by the angst of teenage years,
the barbs of indifference are not hidden by the cuteness of big eyes immersed in fantasy,
separation is no longer fused with connection or interest,
the shadows of warped wounding strain at the bindings of mother love,

a crumpled heart becomes numb to the responsibility of mothering adult children,
ambivalence waltzes with the echoes of love,
duty's whisper sways no allusion,

once cherished tenderly.........

converted polite strangers with no love hold......................

a heart deformed by continuing loss can not sustain...........................

Fallen Motherhood: Raising Children to Embrace the Jehovah Witness Cult or Prostitution !?!?

How did I do it?
How did I raise six children, and sometimes eight, to grow so differently.

How or why did one of my children decide to become a Jehovah Witness and one a prostitute??

I parented and mothered with boundless love and endless devotion; at times, 
blissed out with the sheer happiness of mothering.

The mundane chores of nappies and house keeping,
led to the magic of playing, reading, cuddling, singing, creating, talking, cooking, dancing, adventuring and learning together;
it was a journey I treasured.
I loved and chose to parent.

I also gave tears of frustration and moments of seemingly insane anger.
Was it those chaotic and turbulent emotional responses that rocked their centres and enabled such radical choices ???

Is love never enough?
Can love not cover a multitude of sins, errors, frustrations, anxieties and at times, never ending fatigue ?

Questions and answers,
or are there no answers?
Only endless questions?

Some, children, I am still raising.......................

raising; elevating, nurturing, kindling, promoting, reviving, prying, uplifting, establishing,

to love,
to be loved,
to respect themselves and others,
to play,
to be kind and caring,
to ask questions,
to learn, 
to listen,
to speak, 
to be strong for themselves and others,
to laugh and make music,
to work hard,
to be joyful and celebrate,
and to be most curious in this most amazing world we live in.

Is it true curiosity killed the cat ? or at least waylaid the child?

The cruel hoax of parenting promotes the belief that unconditional love will ensure happy and healthy kids.
Abundant parenting books explain that consistent and appropriate boundaries will gift children with a framework to successfully negotiate life.

I aimed to love unconditionally,
I aimed to give approppriate boundaries..............
Did I fall sort of the mark through some huge abyss of fallen motherhood?
Or does motherhood generously allow for alternate successes.

Does it denote success to join a cult that promotes limited time with non cult members and disallows  traditional family and time honoured clebrations?
Not to mention the continuing sacrifice of cult members who need whole blood products to ensure continuing life.
Did my love contort and support my daughter to make such a radical decision?

Is sex work compatiable with health and happiness?
Will my 18 year old daughter be able to successfully negotiate life as a sex worker?
Will my darling girl view herself as healthy, happy and successful?
Did my love fail her so dramatically she now seeks to sacrifice her body for strangers?

Questions forever constructing questions.

Is it grandiose of me to hold the responsibility?
Or is my grief so profound and deep that it disallows anyone else responsibility?

Could my tears build a river that will carry my two daughters safely through life?
Or will they drown?