I would like to say something about my mom. Our relationship is a difficult one, so all that “mother wound” Internet hype did strike a nerve at some point in my life. It was challenging to grow up with her as my mom. It was hard to find femininity in me in my adult life. It was hard to identify with her and it was hard to interact with her. It was in my thirties when I grew into an independent woman, when I managed to find her reflection in me.
Many females I know or read about seem to be struggling with set expectations towards women, especially in Poland. We mean something only when there is a man or a husband by our side. We are judged by how pretty we are. Our life choices are not ours to make, as we are supposed to have a family, not a career. We are supposed to stay in the kitchen and cook. For fun we are supposed to be shopaholics. We are not supposed to like reading, God forbid anything ambitious. We are supposed to listen to others as they surely know better what is good for us. We are not supposed to understand or be interested in things concerning us. Even if we do not believe in the Church, we should act the same way as everyone else. We are not supposed to talk about the human reproductive system. Maybe even better not to talk about the human body at all.
The thing was, I never felt that kind of shame. My mom is a ladies doctor, so there was not much taboo around body parts. Or pregnancies. Or surgeries on female parts. If anything, we would laugh at tattoos and piercings some ladies would have down there. YOU HAVE NO IDEA! We laughed at medical jokes, my entire understanding of the human body or hormones comes from that. After all, I learned how to read using a bible “Kidney diseases” that was always there on the kitchen table. She would, at times, go to bed at 3am, because she got caught up in a fascinating novel… like I often would 🙂 We never discussed male body parts though, and subject of femininity almost did not exist. We would stay away from anything that was not factual. Similarly, we did not discuss politics.
My mom was always hard on herself. I could see she was tired or struggling with stress-induced health issues. She would face inner resistance, like I occasionally do. Only she would call herself lazy, while I would try to figure out where is the resistance coming from. It was normal for us that she has a career. A male needs a hobby to stay busy so he would not complain too much, while she would be doing something meaningful for mankind. She never liked to cook. Most of all, she hates shopping. TV would be on to help her soothe her anxiety as she tries to catch up on sleep.
My mom is a beautiful woman. She used to be a damn hot sexy beautiful woman, but even now, with age, you can still see the beauty in her eyes. She was always tired, so 9 out of 10 pictures tell a story of her being pissed off.
When I first got an offer to work abroad, she encouraged me. She said it is one of the things a human being should do, to try and test my limits, to see how far I can go, to get the experience I have a chance of getting. This meant separation from family, even greater hardship in communicating. I think she accepted the risk of potentially losing each other forever, as I face my PTSD. This also potentially meant for me putting at risk a chance to get a family. Maybe I just delayed the crisis I am going through right now? Travelling made me strong, much more developed as a human. I may not share her opinions on everything, but I certainly appreciate what I got was rare.
A question whether I mean something without a man was never even raised. My dad mentioned something about owning a cat that makes me a witch – forever alone, but my mom never commented on that. She also never wanted me to abandon my dreams.
She revolutionised medical science. You know Religa? The guy that successfully carried out the first heart-transplantation surgery in Poland? Some achievement, my mom helped deliver a first baby after transplantation. So the body would not reject the organ nor the baby. And the baby would not get developmentally impaired from the medication. My mom helped numerous young adults advance their careers, she promoted many promising ambitious ones. She helped create safe conditions for many of them to gain experience. She organised surgical units that were revolutionary on the European level. Her expertise is respected and recognised globally and I think there was a documentary TV show that involved her at some point. Every Polish human born after 1992 had his parents prepared for the experience thanks to practices she popularised in the entire country. She forced young doctors to grow. She organised large groups of influential people with titles to make the right choice with integrity about controversial topics. She asked uncomfortable questions, if she could not see the truth in what was said. She just wanted to do her job and to do it well. She was never involved in any politics, yet her actions alone made a far greater impact than all the black protests in Poland. Fuck, my mom is a hero.
I only wish she was happier in life. I wish she called things by their name and sorted out what made her struggle. When we are at peace, we travel farther. I wish I could see happiness in her eyes. I wish it was okay for us both to be feminine. Trauma carries far, it gets inherited, in a way, like waves in physics. She was far from being a good parent to me, she did the best she could. But it did not start with her and sure as hell it ends with me. Let’s make sure it was all worth it.
