I feel your pain.

I can feel it in your posts, the look in your eye, and the absence in knowing your value is pure, deep and true.

Sometimes, I go there too. I catch myself watching them. The mother and daughter laughing, embracing, living in their friendship, their love. And I long for that. Just like you.

Sometimes it takes your breath away. It’s so intense you have to look away and give yourself a pep talk. “It’s all going to be okay. Really good for them. They’re so lucky and it’s beautiful…. and I’m okay.” And on you go with your day.

At times this longing, the desire to be embraced and loved the only way a parent can, comes through creativity. Whether it’s the click behind capturing an isolated building left with good bones, the dress you sway in, or perhaps even the laugh that erupts from your soul when your dog rolls in the snow. I hear the echo that longs for parental love in the space left open deep in your heart.

It’s tragically hard to lose a parent early on in life. And really hard when their heartbeats and they choose not to be by your side. Because one doesn’t have a choice and the other does. How can it not be effortless to feel a parents love?

You’ve spent many nights thinking about how hard you must be to love. And find yourself reminded of this thought throughout the day because everywhere you go, there they are, parents with their kids, smiling, laughing, just enjoying. And your heart makes a weird beat whenever you notice this. It drops a bit and heat rushes through you and then you steady yourself and begin again, “I’m okay… they’re lovely…. really…. and I’m okay.”

And then you hear about loving your inner child. And though the idea sounds really great and you give it your best shot, and it feels positive, it isn’t quite the same as a parents love, a parents snuggle, a parent giving their time to you and really being there. And often you’re reminded, this is the best you’ve got. So you dig in and love that little you still inside. And you laugh at her knock knock joke and tell her it’s going to be okay. It has to be. Why would life bring this much pain if it wasn’t going to be okay? And you look for the joy, the rainbows, the dragonflies, the moments where breathing is easy, it comes free.

For you, who’s mom isn’t here anymore, every memory is a reminder that this opportunity to share in a special moment was taken way too young. She isn’t there to shop with you for your wedding dress, to tell you how beautiful and proud she is, to embrace your husband and love him like her own. And every other moment in-between.  And that pain is so deep, it stings and threatens to steal the joy of the day. But you feel a piece of her with you. As if your heart is bigger in each of those memories as she stirs your soul on those days. And in the weirdest of ways, you do feel her deep, pouring love. And know she’d do anything to be there with you if she could.

And for you who’s mom can’t be there for reasons of her own. It’s another reminder of how hard you must be to love. Never understanding why she chooses not to be there for you on your biggest and hardest days. And all the boring days in between. Knowing she can’t love you like you’ve seen mothers love their kids. Another cut is made. And yet you continue to dream that one day, one day, she’ll be there. Your mom will be the mom you need.

And then you’re reminded that you can’t change how your parent that is still walking on earth will show up in your life. You can make your requests. Tell them what you need. Be so vulnerable you wonder why it’s not an Olympic sport because you’re in the run for the gold at this point. And yet, it’s not your work to change how they love you, how they show up. That’s their work. And sometimes you suffer for the work they’re unwilling to do at this point in their life. The wounds they’re unwilling to heal. So they can’t be the parent you need until they begin to heal. They’re there, but just out of reach.

See you know they probably also didn’t get the love they needed from their parent. And this is confusing. You wonder, they know what it’s like to fantasize about having the parent they need that they want, that they stay up late dreaming about, and yet, they won’t be that parent for you. So you’re torn between compassion and rage and self-doubt.

And it feels lost and lonely and just really damn painful.

I’m sorry that you’ve ever wondered if you’re lovable or enough and that you’ve felt this pain. I want you to know that you’re not alone. Many eyes gaze from the park bench, giving themselves the same pep talk, and work like heck to love their inner child and let love come into their life.

As lame as it is to say, when you’re parents aren’t there for you because they physically can’t be because they have passed on or because they emotionally can’t be because they haven’t faced their own pain, I hope you show up for yourself every single darn day.

Show up. And love yourself. And let others love you. Because you’re not hard to love. You’re a beautiful soul all the time. And in the moments you turn towards the joys in your life, your hearts bursts open and dances. Take the time to heal your hurt. You can do this. And you will be okay.

Sending so much love and positivity your way, Steph