#intergenerationaltrauma

I'm sad. And that's okay. This heaviness in my heart is not mine alone, I carry it for my mother and my father and his mother I carry it for her husband who quickly became the demon sleeping in the shadows that then became a stain who's faint edges still linger. Deep and bruised like my heart after that day confused and oh, so green I was already shedding my innocence, but you stole hers in one moment. And for this she starves herself of nourishment of unadulterated joy her body, something she feels shame about all because you thought every body was yours to be played with.

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Mar 19, 2021

Mar 19, 2021 at 8:06 PM UTC

M-Salinger

The hurt

I'm sad. And that's okay. This heaviness in my heart is not mine alone, I carry it for my mother and my father and his mother I carry it for her husband who quickly became the demon sleeping in the shadows that then became a stain who's faint edges still linger. Deep and bruised like my heart after that day confused and oh, so green I was already shedding my innocence, but you stole hers in one moment. And for this she starves herself of nourishment of unadulterated joy her body, something she feels shame about all because you thought every body was yours to be played with.

44

My mother and her mother, (four generations of mothers to be exact) All conceived children They didn't want, because They couldn't bear the alternative. My sister and I are the only two who survived. The intergenerational resentment that is cast among each woman in our family who decides to carry the burden of their unwanted child. My mother loves us as much as she is capable- Just like her mother and mothers mother before her. Birthed into four generations of hurt, that longed for acceptance and love that only a mother could give. But each mother couldn't. It took four generations of women and their pain and longingness for love, to create two women who are full of nothing but love and are hungry to give it to the world (we forgive you, because it's all you've known)

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Jan 26, 2021

Jan 26, 2021 at 12:35 AM UTC

mg-4

(our) mothers burden

My mother and her mother, (four generations of mothers to be exact) All conceived children They didn't want, because They couldn't bear the alternative. My sister and I are the only two who survived. The intergenerational resentment that is cast among each woman in our family who decides to carry the burden of their unwanted child. My mother loves us as much as she is capable- Just like her mother and mothers mother before her. Birthed into four generations of hurt, that longed for acceptance and love that only a mother could give. But each mother couldn't. It took four generations of women and their pain and longingness for love, to create two women who are full of nothing but love and are hungry to give it to the world (we forgive you, because it's all you've known)

18

Every man that I have ever let inside me is you, Mom. Every man that I have ever let see me, touch me, open me up. Expecting them to tear down the walls that are hundreds of feet high, just to walk right through as if my guarded heart is a sliding glass door. As if they can see right through my frame. They see me: bold, opinionated, strong. But They all have all looked right though me, and can see the little girl who wants to be loved. They told me they loved me. Touched the hidden places that have hurt to touch, as if they knew exactly where they could be found. Only to treat me like a warm body for their cold. Blood. They take me as a shell. Because, like you Mom, they exploit me. Use my weakness in seeing good, reading what makes me tick, Learn to gain my trust. Just to abandon me. Like you.

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May 29, 2019

May 29, 2019 at 1:36 AM UTC

mg-4

Untitled

Every man that I have ever let inside me is you, Mom. Every man that I have ever let see me, touch me, open me up. Expecting them to tear down the walls that are hundreds of feet high, just to walk right through as if my guarded heart is a sliding glass door. As if they can see right through my frame. They see me: bold, opinionated, strong. But They all have all looked right though me, and can see the little girl who wants to be loved. They told me they loved me. Touched the hidden places that have hurt to touch, as if they knew exactly where they could be found. Only to treat me like a warm body for their cold. Blood. They take me as a shell. Because, like you Mom, they exploit me. Use my weakness in seeing good, reading what makes me tick, Learn to gain my trust. Just to abandon me. Like you.

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