She Did the Best She Could

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Hey friends,

I was up at 2 a.m. this week thinking about my mother that passed away in August, on her birthday.

I was with her holding her hand when she passed in the nursing home.

We had a bad relationship most of my life.

In the end things were ok but I blamed her for a lot and I had every right to.

Being born and raised in a cult and the mental abuse that came with it.

The strangest thing happened that I never expected.

The very second she passed I was filled with this new idea and I was shocked at how clear it was.

I heard myself say

“She did the best she could with what she had.”

I know it's true.

I wish I'd been a little more forgiving while she was alive.

I tried.

I really did.

When I heard those words, it's like time stopped and I took stock of the relationship between my mother and I over my entire life. All in an instant. I was overwhelmed.

I felt more guilty than I ever had. Grief just dropped this on me like a ton of bricks.

The blame actually disappeared.

That quiet in the nursing home room felt different after. Lighter somehow.

But the guilt stayed. And then the question wouldn't leave me alone:

What the hell do we do with the wounds they leave behind?
Let their damage keep running in the background, slowly turning us into someone smaller and colder?
Or refuse—refuse—to let it change who we really are?

A few years back in Japan I had a good friend I worked for. One day out of nowhere he said if someone wronged him and they needed help later he'd still help them. Not because they deserved it. Because that's who he is. Just because they're bad doesn't change who we are.

I thought it was odd back then.

Now I get it.

We don't owe the people who hurt us our help or our kindness. But we do owe it to ourselves not to hand over our character to their mistakes.

We can carry the hurt, the guilt, the anger, and still decide this doesn't turn me cold or closed off.

We choose.

Let the pain keep whispering in the dark forever.

Or tell it no.
This stops here.
I stay who I am—even if some nights it's still hard.

Like with my Mom. I moved back from Japan 7 years ago to make sure that she was always looked after. I made the choice to look past the issues, and I may not have done the best, but I tried.

If this lands with you, reply. What choice are you facing right now? I read every one.

Please let me know what you think.

Neon