Not For Show

When my son cries, I soothe him.
The voice that still plays in my head is my father’s:
“If you don’t stop crying, I’ll give you something to cry about.”

My son wants to be held often, consistently.
In elementary school, my mother corrected me:
“I don’t want a hug. That’s your dad’s side of the family.”

My son is free to exist, not perform.
I was taught to project a loving family for show,
with no care given behind closed doors.

My son is allowed to move at his own pace,
without comparison.
I was always too much—or not enough.

I love that he is stubborn, curious, observant, and sensitive.
I was conditioned to believe those traits were flaws.

Breaking the cycle looks like becoming the parent you needed.
It is re-parenting your inner child
while learning how to be a parent at all.

☾⋆｡°✩🦇✩°｡⋆☽