To All Daughters

who think they’re not good enough, or think they ought to be prettier or more compassionate or at least thinner. To those who feel they don’t feel enough for their families, especially their mothers. In fact, to all daughters who have troubled, complex, maybe even unfriendly relationships with their mothers, near or distant, and because of this find themselves harboring, maybe even cultivating a nice inner garden of anxiety, or worse, shame. To those who, try as they might  just cannot live up to what everybody expects of them (probably they expect the most—way too much—of themselves). Even to daughters unborn, who for one reason or another simply did not make it past the threshold to the light, to be held and known by mothers, or brothers, sisters and fathers.  This is for you. I didn’t write it; Julianna Baggott did, a writer who writes what appears to be all the time, under different names, in different genres, including this post at her blog on 2/17/11.

 http://bridgetasher.blogspot.com/2011/02/sixteen-years-ago-today-i-gave-birth-to.html

Because she got it so exactly right, I’m going to quote her (with her permission) and then you can decide if you want to go and read the whole thing. I would. Look at the picture.

The truth is that having this child, my daughter, in my life has mined my soul. She’s made me go deep — so deep sometimes I feel like I’m swimming in a cathedral of her making, a cathedral of light, and I hold my breath because I love her so much I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

To all the daughters: this is how your mother felt about you. Even if she only felt it once, or maybe just felt its shadow, or she felt it and then quickly smothered it, packed it away in some trunk up in the attic along with everything else she was not allowed to feel, or couldn’t handle feeling, she felt this. About you. This is not supposed to make you feel guilty or worse about yourself. That’s not what this is. Instead, it’s to explain, about the mother thing. Mothers, whether they admit it or not, know that daughters are hard. The feelings are big. Too much, way too much. It’s not a job for the weak.

To all daughters: for any number of reasons, your mother may not have been able to show how she felt. Or, she may have shown it in bizarre ways, like constantly adjusting your hair or your clothes, and if so, I’m sorry. I’m also sorry if—and I admit that this is a distinct possibility—your mother simply didn’t have the depth or the heart to go this deep. She hid the feelings in a lifetime of criticism, focusing instead on your inadequacies. If this is the case for you, I recommend you look at your own daughter, whether she’s unborn, yet-to-be-conceived, fully grown, or simply a pipe dream. If none of that applies then you’re gonna have to do the hardest part of all, the work we all gotta do sooner or later: face the daughter you are. The one that’s still hiding inside you, who needed this sort of thing and never got it.

Give it to her.