This Egoic Mom Almost Ate My Daughter’s Birthday Cake
Neli’s birthday was around the corner. I was so excited to have a big celebration for my first-born girl who was turning 3. All of her prior birthdays were during the pandemic, and - being in California - we had some of the strictest social restrictions in the country. While I appreciated this sweet intimacy, too, I was really ready to party and celebrate my baby girl in style.
It all started off feeling really fun. I visited pinterest, curated my vision, and collaborated with family to pull it all together. We went all out. Like, ALL out.
As the day approached, I felt an inner conflict begin to wage war inside me. The part of me that loves her ‘fabulous things’, and the part of me that feels constrained by the dogma of ‘conscious motherhood’.
And then with the construction of the balloon arch, it all began to fall apart.
My inner harsh mother came to pay me a visit.
She stood squarely in my psyche with her arms crossed saying:
-“you know you can’t recycle those balloons”
-“look at all this plastic” [she spit this out with extra venom]
-”you better re-use these things for the next party to justify yourself”
-”a wedding quality cake for a three-year-old?!!”
-”you better tell people not to bring gifts so you can at least preserve some level of modesty with all your extravagance.”
-“You might make people feel bad about their own parties so don’t go too big!”
-“What is your conscious community going to think of you?”
I felt mentally and emotionally exhausted by this punishing task-master, and I could feel myself begin to contort and try to reel in the bits and pieces of Neli’s party that lit my heart up. I began picking away at it and obsessing before realizing that I had already set the ball rolling on the vision of her party and there was no going back.
Then I mentally succumbed to the land of mom-shame induced by my very own patriarchal inner mother at throwing my daughter a Pinterest-perfect plastic party.
(I know, other mom’s are ashamed that they aren’t throwing the pinterest-perfect party - just goes to show, it’s all an inner shame shit show, no matter the content)
Shame is a tricky, sticky web though. Because it’s actually a coping mechanism that absolves us from needing to be in our power. So before I went all the way down to shame-town, I stopped myself and asked what was really going on here. Where was I not owning the power of responsibility for my true desire, by not having to open to receive it?
That’s when I realized this party was as much for my inner three year old as it was for Neli, which is the microcosm multiverse of Motherhood.
I remembered that my own inner three year old wanted stuff. She wanted toys and balloons and rainbows and unicorns. And she also wanted attention, and love. Yet, at some point in her journey, she was told by the outer world that she couldn’t have what she wanted. That it was too big, too much.
That I was too big, too much.
She learned to reign it in and be appropriate and lower her expectations, lest she piss off the wrong parent who would take her treats - and their love - away in punishment.
In short, I learned that my needs weren’t important. That my desires weren’t important. And that being a good girl that others approved of was far more important than satisfying my desires and asking for what I needed to feel cherished.
Which made for one ‘pinterest-loving vs. people-pleasing’ momma.
So my psyche developed an interloper to handle all this: The Harsh Mother.
This voice has been developed by my ego to keep my inner three-year-old in line as a protection mechanism from being rejected, abandoned, or punished.
She operates by rejecting and abandoning me before anyone else can to keep me on the straight and narrow.
Oh, yes, here it was: the good ol’ Mother Wound.
From ‘Understanding The Mother Wound’ in mindbodygreen.com (thanks for sharing, momma Maya!), here are some examples of someone living with the Mother Wound:
Feeling pressure to adhere to strict expectations of womanhood / motherhood
Caretaking others to the point of resentment and exhaustion
Never actualizing your full potential in case it threatens others
Never actualizing your full potential out of fear of failure or disapproval
Persistent, vague sense that there's something shameful and wrong with you
Feeling pressured to live out the unlived dreams of your mother, even if it means not being true to yourself
Resentment and bitterness at your own children
Unconsciously waiting for your mother's permission or approval of your life choices
Unrealistic expectations in a relationship and feeling relentlessly needy with others
Feeling unsafe to take up space and express yourself, and instead wanting to play small
Weak boundaries, an unclear sense of self, and/or feelings of low self-worth
Inability to practice foundational self-care and ask for and receive support
Allowing and accepting poor or abusive treatment from others
Never feeling good enough no matter what you seem to do
Check. Check. Check.
I finally got it.
It was time for me to take the parenting of my inner child back.
So I turned directly to that Harsh Inner Mother and said:
“No, bitch, I’m parenting my three year old. Not you. This is not your responsibility. I will have the party for my daughter that lights us the fuck up. Go home.”
It was time for me to own the fullness of my true desire.
Cus here’s the thing: while I love conscious parenting, part of conscious parenting is honoring all of who I am and my own momma inspiration in all things, even when it goes against the granola grain.
And my inner three year old wanted the bells and whistles, goddammit. She wanted the ponies and the flower crowns and the (oh so plastic) balloons. And so did my grown ass woman who likes fabulousness as much as frugality.
So I gave myself permission to give it to her and for her to receive it with pleasure and passion.
She loved it.
And so did Neli, who got full and glowing approval for being her big, bright, and beautiful self granted by the true The Divine Cosmic Mother in me.
As my own inner child got to delight in a cake fit for a princess, and heal, too.
What does your own harsh inner mother say to you? And what does your inner child really want or need? Can you give it to her?
Love,
Your Emi
