To the Daughter Whose Mother Can't See her


I see you. I know what it’s like. I know what it’s like to caretake her energy. To subjugate your emotions and needs for hers, over and over and for a lifetime as little fissures form in your innocent Spirit.

I know what it’s like not to be held, or heard, or spoken to with soft recognition.

I know what it’s like. I know what it’s like to break— to be blamed. For everything that went wrong, continues to go wrong. The scapegoat. The way out. I know what it’s like to be made responsible for her pain, her experience, her everything.

When she’s everything, you’re nothing, and when nobody sees it (or understands) — I know what it’s like.

To the daughters whose mothers can’t see them, not because they won’t, but because they can’t — I am thinking of you today. My heart contains yours. I promise, you are not invisible.

I will tell you now that there is triumphant joy in your future. A joy that rises from becoming the Mother of yourself and your Sacred Heart — the Mother Herself, as in Gaia. Sophia. Divine. Her. Oh! The work it entails!

What a worthwhile road to traverse.

What a gift, a blessing, that you can grow and grow and be polished from this angle.

Big Love,


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