Last month I stayed with my mother for a month. I used to last three days and I was happy. I was even eager to make tea with my mom. And I was even laughing with my mom. And I even started to think my mother was a joyful and sweet person. When I told him, she opened my mother's face with roses.
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I knew that for the first time we knew that we were not in the defense and the attack, because we were both separated. My mother hasn't changed. My relationship with myself has changed. His words no longer hurt me, hurt me, or leave me in doubt about myself. Knowing my injuries, knowing his injuries. it strengthened me, it changed me.
My personal domain was mine. My mother was out of this. And my father. and everyone they care about. And a sentence that he set up with me no more anger in my mind than the one thousand times I've lived since I was a child. I understood myself, I understood it and the issue was closing there
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I couldn't say I love my mother. Really. I wouldn't feel anything because I say now. I love myself. And even our wounds.
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