These 3 Words…

mom_daughter_at oddsGood Morning! I. Love. You.

These three words are often exchanged on the phone between me and my dear father. As he rises each morning I am certain that he keeps me in prayer, as he has done for many years. This is a practice I also reciprocate! Hence, God tapped me on the shoulder one day and whispered that I should text him more often to share this same greeting; but, my mother also needs to hear I.Love.You more often because she is the person I have emotionally missed for many years because of our differences and our inability to communicate with each other.

Additionally, my close friend, turned fiance who has three sons and one daughter, once told me that a little girl’s first love is her dad. This statement is so accurate, as I am told to be my father’s female version. In contrast, the same cannot be said, or isn’t regularly voiced when speaking about the relationship a daughter has with her mother. Ahem. With that said, I do speak of my mother with similar endearment because she was, and still remains my first role model, although communicating this to her is so challenging – most of my time is spent defending myself from her unconscious belief of my taking advantage of her guarded heart.

So, until she believes otherwise, I will continue to write with hopes of meeting her there! If she only knew! One day, though … One day.

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Author’s Note

It was titled, an ‘Author’s note’ about self, and it reads:

The relentless blame a daughter carries is the closeness she has with her father, while her mother’s heart sears because of the supposed open wounds she still has from a bitter divorce that led to misunderstandings . He is aware there is no favorite ‘parent’ although she believes otherwise. The daughter will forever pay a hefty price because she is caught in the middle.

This is my story and I am finally shutting the door of fear to put a voice to why I consistently experience bouts of sadness. Truth is – what you see at the surface is not my reality. The ‘real’ me is a gullible, naive and inexperienced adult who still cries for her mother’s attention. So although I pretend to be strong in front of the people who know of me, those who know me on an intimate level remain hopeful that I will find my happy place (one day, somehow someway).