Inherited love with conditions
Healing mother-daughter wounds
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"Don’t pick at it. Let it heal." My mother used to say this to me when I'd mess with the new scab on my knee from trying a new move with my roller skates in the street. My grandma would say, "You are too pretty to be in the streets getting bruised up like 'em boys."
As a young girl, I learned the women in my family would always judge me for two things: the way I got my wounds and how I cared for them.
I became good at hiding the pain when the scab ripped off my wound. Then, I got even better at accessorising the weight from the baggage gifted to me. Passed down by the mothers in my lineage. I realised I was born with this mother wound. It was stuck to me like a birthmark, an inheritance with no value.
It is said when a mother is carrying her child, the emotions she feels will pass through the womb. So when I say I inherited my mother's wound, what I mean is my mother was already grieving the pain of a present while absent mother. My mother, who is also just a girl, has not healed or even acknowledged the pain she preserved as a badge of honour. Having a mother who never accepted you will condition you to mould and bend, hoping you become the accepted one. Then, you convince yourself this is the way to live, and it becomes your foundation for forming relationships - altering to become who will be accepted.
My whole life, I have had this ongoing issue with fake friends. They initially came into my life super supportive, but over time, they showed their lack of genuine care for me. I gave and gave in hopes that my generosity would be reciprocated. I later realised they had bullied their way into my life. They forced me into giving them the love that I had for myself. I realised what I accepted in friendship was not filling the void of my mother wounds but creating an even bigger one.
Dealing with high school girls while trying to raise my teenage mom, how did I not see the similarities? Well, this is not a topic on friendship wounds. However, it starts at home. I inherited bullies, and the worst part is they came disguised.
A safe space, people who look like me.
My mother was the first. She was the perfect mom in front of people, but I knew better than to get comfortable with the feeling because it was temporary. I learned how to live within the conditions of someone to be loved, feel accepted, and feel worthy to exist. Unconditional love is what the fairy tale stories painted. The picture for us to believe, yet in my situation, my home didn't even subscribe to unconditional love. There were conditions in my household growing up, and if you didn't fall within them, you better get used to being alone. Remember, looking from the outside in – you would never know I was experiencing first-degree bullying.
That burn ain't going nowhere. It's going to leave a mark. People ask me, "Where did you get that scar?" I'm often shocked when they ask. Where I'm from, we don't talk about how we got our scars – that's called dry snitching. I can't tell you what happened because you might judge my mother. And if you do, I have to open and serve a can of ass whooping on a platter for all to indulge in. I love my mama. And I was conditioned to go to war over her. Whether she is right or wrong, I drop everything for my mama.
I reflected on how many opportunities I dropped for those moments. It saddened me. It seemed like for every prominent moment in my life, there were disruptions due to me having to drop everything to show up for my mom. In moments when I needed her the most, she never dropped it all for me. Not once.
"I can't afford to save you every time. You are grown now." - Her words.
A bully grooms and conditions you into giving them what they want. And in return, you endure pain and loss. My mother groomed and conditioned me into giving her my love, and while she encouraged me to love myself when I did, it was always too much. Eventually, I stopped loving myself and focused on only loving her, but she still never loved me back the way I longed to be loved by my mother. Maybe it's me. I'm probably asking for too much.
After all, she booked a one-way flight to Thailand a few hours after I found out my father passed away. Why would I expect her to show up for me in my time of need when she never grieved the pain of her father passing away? That pain she reminds herself of every time she logs into her phone using the date of his passing, unlike me having his birthday tattooed on my ring finger. I got that tattoo one day, knowing that when I got married, I wouldn't have family there, so this would serve as a reminder. I eloped with my wife and daughter in Las Vegas in 2024 while I was no contact with my mother.
See, I ask too much from my mother. She's just a girl trying to figure out life whilst carrying her mother-wounds. Why do I have such high expectations of her? She says she didn't do that to me; maybe I am making that up in my head.
The aftermath of living with a present while absent mother shaped me into becoming a woman who is present today. Not only in my daughter's life but also in my marriage, business, and community. I understand what it means to be present in someone's life and the actions required behind the intention of wanting to support someone. My daughter will leave a legend free of the remnants of this trauma wound the women of my lineage have carried from their mothers for generations.
We are free now. Not just me. My mother, too. She is in Thailand, far away from me. We don't talk daily. And I think she likes it that way. We only speak when I call her, and she only calls me when she needs something. Does it hurt? Not as much today – and for me, that's progress, so I keep going.
Meet Jacquie Verbal
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Thank you for giving me a safe space to let me words bleed on the page.
So many good quotes here but "I can't tell you what happened because you might judge my mother." hit hard. Jacquie, thanks for this piece. Learning to still love someone but not speak up for yourself is something I inherited and seeking a way to give it back.