Mothering Yourself

Mother's Day is celebrated on the first Sunday in May in Hungary. This occasion happened to be close the my Mom's visit and it inspired me to write this personal piece about self-compassion, mothering (yourself) and healing myself into an adult woman.

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It took me a while to accept that I’m slow today.

I showered myself with an enormous dose of self-compassion.

My arm still hurt from the vaccine, my sleep was disturbed and last night felt short. My heart was aching, and heavily processing the conflicting emotions which were circling in and around me.

I woke up, navigated to the kitchen and started to clean up the counter. I unloaded the dishwasher and parallel as I arranged the plates and glasses, I cleared my thoughts.

Mothering.

Ever since I went through this transition and moved to this new city, I felt a massive desire to be mothered. To feel a comforting hand on my head, touch my shoulder, and hug me tenderly. Someone to cook me a warm meal, discuss what flowers to plant in the garden, prepare me a bath with bubbles and candles, and sit next to me while I talk, breathe, and cry. To truly listen.

I hoped to have this mother for long. Since I was a child. I might have gotten it when I was really young, but I barely have memories of it, rather none. I heard it from stories, and I wanted to believe that it happened. Eventually, you can only miss something that you know that it exists.

My mom visited me for a few days. It was a big deal for her, and for me, too. I shared pieces of my adult life with her in another country, in another world, and another language.

She was curious, patient and tender.

She was also sick, and it was me who played the role of mother. I prepared the hot bath, I cooked the warm meal, and I hugged her before saying good night and turning off the light.

By taking care of her and giving her what I wanted to have I understood that this is how I heal.

I’m an adult woman who is ready to feel and nurture.

I let go of my want to get back the lost years, claim my wishes from others and project my lack to the relationships in my life. The only way to heal is to embrace myself with self-compassion, feel the pain, grieve the loss and love myself and the world tenderly.

You need to give what you want to receive.

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Thanks, Mom.

Thanks for doing what you can.

Thanks for giving me the life so I can live.

Thanks for teaching me to breathe the air and speak the language.

Thanks for holding me when I was crying.

Thanks for laughing with me.

Thanks for allowing me to be who I am.

Thanks for doing your best.

I am free now.

I am responsible now.

I am an adult now.

I am a woman now.

I feel connected.

I feel real.

I feel liberated.

I feel strong.

I feel tender.

I feel capable.

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