“What if the cure for trauma is not to be unbroken, but to be deeply seen and deeply loved?” -Dr. Thema Bryant
My Interpretation: He does not need a perfect parent. He needs a present one. A mother who sees his full heart & protects it with hers. Even when the world tries to convince him to shrink.
Series 2 – Post 4: Letters From The Inside
You Will Not Inherit My Silence
My boy,
You are the loudest love I have ever known.
Not because you shout-
but because you exist.
Your presence echoes into every part of me
that once believed she had to disappear to be loved.
& now, here you are-
living proof
that I do not have to go quiet to be good.
There were so many things I was not allowed to say growing up.
So many emotions I swallowed just to keep the peace.
I learned early that feelings made people uncomfortable-
especially when they did not know how to fix them.
So, I became small.
I became agreeable.
I became the version of myself
most likely to survive.
But you?
You are not here to survive.
You are here to live.
& I will be damned
if this world teaches you
that softness is a liability.
I will not raise you to bottle things up.
To apologize for your sensitivity.
To hide your tenderness in the name of being “tough.”
You are allowed to cry.
To speak up.
To ask questions.
To change your mind.
You are allowed to feel deeply
& not be punished for it.
& if anyone tells you that makes you weak-
you send them to me.
I will remind them:
When something hurts, you can say so.
When something feels wrong, I will believe you.
When you are scared, you do not have to pretend you are fine.
You do not have to earn my love.
You do not have to be perfect to be safe.
You do not have to perform to be worthy.
You just have to be you.
& I will protect that
with everything I have.
You teach me patience every single day.
In the mornings, when you drag your feet.
At night, when you want to help cook
but cannot quite reach the counter.
In every moment when I am rushing from point A to point B,
you remind me:
Life is not a race-
it is a rhythm.
& you are part of mine.
You slow me down in the best way.
Even when it is hard.
Even when I have to swallow my frustration.
Because you are not the problem.
You are the reminder.
Presence matters more than performance.
When you are frustrated, I ask why.
When you are sad, I want to know what happened.
Was it something I said?
When you are happy, I want to know what lit you up like that.
Because I do not just want to be your provider-
I want to be your witness.
You are going to grow up in a world
that will not always know what to do
with boys like you-
Boys who are bright.
Emotional.
Thoughtful.
Boys who care.
Boys who notice.
But you do not have to contort yourself
to fit anyone else’s mold.
Not even mine.
You are allowed to become someone entirely new-
& still be completely loved.
You still bring me weeds and flowers like they are treasure.
& they are.
We tape them to the book wall like offerings
to the joy we are building.
& when you won first place at that fishing tournament-
you gave me your trophy.
Said it belonged on my wall.
As if our little corner of life together
is your shrine of achievements.
& you know what?
It is.
You are.
I know your father & I are wired differently.
I bend. He holds.
I adapt. He resists.
& while I will never co-sign rigidness or closed minds,
I understand why some people cling to what they know.
It feels safer that way.
Predictable. Steady.
But I want more for you.
I want you to be flexible.
To grow through challenge.
To meet the world with curiosity, not fear.
& I know the only way to teach that
is to live it.
So, I will keep showing you.
I will keep loving you out loud.
& I will keep letting you turn my book wall
into your personal museum of joy.
When I raise my voice, I will come back & lower it.
When I mess up – & I will –
I will own it.
You will never have to wonder if I see you.
I do.
You are the loudest love I have ever known.
& you are the reason I no longer stay silent.
Always,
Mom
xoxo ♡
Whisper to the ghosts. Yell into the void. Just don’t be an asshole.