Many mothers who work very hard at giving their very best at work, to their children and the world around them often find themselves surrounded by a cloud of unhappiness they can’t shake. The source of this unhappiness is different for each woman that experiences it but most if not all will do everything in their power to hide the cloudiness from their children. Hiding our sadness from our children is something that us mothers think that we must do in order to raise happy children.
I don’t remember what exactly my mother was sad about but I do clearly remember the look on her face then thinking I was the source of her sadness when this look always returned when we were alone. I was four then.
I wasn’t always a particularly happy child in fact I think that I was about six or seven when I started dealing with my own depression. My mother spent most of my childhood unhappy even though she laughed and smiled a lot. My mother, the expert mason, spent almost every waking hour building a facade around our family to present to our relatives, family friends, her employers and strangers and they all believed what she presented. As our family unit began to crumble inside of the veneer mother created instead of getting us out Mommy handed me some mortar.
I followed Mommy’s lead picked up a brick and began to build to the left of her. I looked down and saw my little brother looking up. He didn’t look like much of a mason to me so instead of building onto the exterior wall mother had created I added a new one. I spent most of my preteen and teen years building a wall around mother and I. Since then it has always been mother, her pain and I.
My days are often filled with lows and my nights often end with a long prayer and a good cry. Since God did not grant me an apprentice a daughter to pass my masonry skills on to and because I still often find myself helping Mom maintain her walls I didn’t have the energy to continue to build my own wall around my pain. I’ve been working very hard to overcome the source of my unhappiness. I am no longer very good at hiding my sadness from my children so instead of faking happiness when they see me standing in the rain I try to point towards the sunshine.
My sons seem to be very happy children regardless if they know that Mom isn’t always happy. I’ve taught them that everyone functions the same – nobody has it easy and we all have those days when life’s sweet turns to bitter. They don’t know how to hide their feelings behind walls they express them in ways that are right or at the very least age appropriate. They are allowed to be children that know and understand Mom isn’t always happy but they do not know the details of my adult problems. My sons don’t need to lie to anyone about who our family is or isn’t because what we are is what we present to the world the good, the bad, the ugly and at times a very corny happy sitcom family.
I wish my mother could put her tools down and understand that the way I’m raising my sons is best but until then…
…I’ll be spending bluebird days teaching my sons how to enjoy the powder left by storms and working on tearing down the wall around mother, her pain and I.
I pray that if I can’t dismantle the wall around my mother’s heart that I at least can make enough cracks in it to release her pain. I hope to live to see her happy.
