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Sometimes it feels as if I started as the seed of some beautiful rare flowering plant that needed to be cared for in a very specific way in order to thrive, but someone planted me in some swirling filthy nutrient poor bog of madness with partial sunlight and very low temperatures.

Realizing that my “dysfunction” is not something I caused (no matter how many times my family told me I did) but from the craziness surrounding me has been the biggest relief of my life. Even with that transforming realization, however, the patterns I grew with are part of me now and difficult to change. I will change them no matter how long it takes me and I have made a tremendous amount of progress since my 30th birthday.

Figuring out what “normal” means has plagued me forever. And now as I find myself 13 years into parenthood I wonder what normal will mean to him when he is my age. I am a good mom. I have raised him with more love and care than I have ever been shown in my life. He has been so amazingly healing to me. Noone tells you before you give birth that the child growing within you will heal you in so many ways.

Hopefully when he is 34 he will blog about being grown in love and being cherished.

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