There is a wall between us
There is a wall between us
The wall that says You don’t love me, or if you loved me you would…
You forget that I was young once, that I understand what the maturing process looks like, for myself and all the friends and family around me.
You forget that I have degrees in education and child development.
If you remembered, you would perhaps desire to listen to my wisdom, not only as your mom but as a grown woman who has traveled through the times of childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, marriage and motherhood; and also through the places between love and loss, vindication and shame, triumph and disappointment.
I long to hear the stories of your experiences and understandings. Yet there is a wall between us, that keeps you from desiring to hear mine.
What I would want you to hear, first and foremost, is how much I love you. It is a love I had never realized until I had you. That was the time when I entered a new realm. The realm of real responsibility. The responsibility of a life itself. I have never taken this task lightly, perhaps for granted at times, yet never lightly.
I worked hard to show you the ways of the world. And then the world changed, the rules changed, our language changed, and consequently our institutions changed. The echos of the world (wide web) amplified these changes, and helped to build that wall. The normal rebellious wall of adolescence became something else. A rebellion of self, perhaps, or of society, yet built on fear and angst. I never in my wildest nightmares ever thought that the institutions I grew up having a high level of trust in would actively help to build that wall between us.
How shall we chip away at it together? Who will help?
This wall between my children and myself is constructed by society. They are all on the autistic spectrum. Society blames mothers when children lack “social skills”. I always felt blamed by social workers and other ignorant people. My youngest aged 15 became selectively mute as did her sister at that age. No more talking to me. Her sister had received treatment for anorexia at that age. This child was in the new era of gender fantasy. She cut me off as she fled home to join the trans cult.
Your article deeply touched me, so I thank you. The desire for sincere, open communication with my daughter I fear is far removed from my current reality. My heart breaks.