“Where I End, and You Begin” explores my experience of motherhood and the fears I have of myself. For me, motherhood has been as much about raising myself as it has been about raising my children. I struggle every day inside my mind, battling what I learned to say and what I want to say. There's a narrative in society that intergenerational trauma and depression look like sadness. And the cure must be joy. Our society assumes motherhood is a Madonna-esque sacrifice that cumulates in the purest of happiness. But unresolved issues can reveal itself in many ways in a mother - as loneliness, rage, frustration, claustrophobia, apathy. Motherhood, despite the joy that exists, is not the balm.
My rage exists in conversation with theirs through this work, as I feared that this ugly part of myself was all that I was passing down to them. The way they stand beside each other, or more often, over each other. I see my fears all around me. Or do I? Rage has colored my whole life. What was reality?
Where I End, And You Begin is about how I learned to see past my projections. I explore my changing perspectives, particularly how I began to see my daughters more clearly after learning to heal from generational patterns. I explored the fears I carried about myself - that all I am and all I can teach is rage. But I learned to see how my daughters, and myself (and perhaps the women before me), are much more than that. If I let them, I know they will find their way to tenderness and individuality. There is more to them than what I fear; there is more to me than what I fear. They came from my body, but they are becoming their own people. They are in the pollen in a puddle, the hot embers rushing into the cool night. And this is how I know… I have found where I end, and they begin.
Throughout this, I ask what is motherhood? And I explore the generations before me as well. Where do patterns come from and how do we value them? This work is not just about my journey to maternal healing but also a criticism of the pressures society puts on mothers to be warm, perfect, slim, warm, gentle, white-bodied, able-bodied, sacrificial, and extraordinary yet still ordinary at the same time. After all, these generational wounds didn’t appear in a vacuum; misogyny across cultures plays a role in how mothers see themselves. It is a call for change in how we see motherhood and the ghosts they carry on their backs and highlight the power of healing. I know I am not alone in these experiences. An increase in editorials about “Mom Rage”, including The New York Times, the New Yorker, and Yahoo News means more people are willing to talk about their experiences of constant caregiving and the ways societal pressures and isolation lead to a shadow of motherhood.
The New York Times: (The Rage Mothers Don’t Talk About, and “I am Going to Physically Explode” – Mom Rage in a Pandemic)
The New Yorker: (“Mom Rage”, Reviewed)
Yahoo News: (Mom Rage: The ‘hidden crisis’ nearly every mother knows)
I hope this work speaks to the experiences that many mothers have but are afraid to share, that they may see their battles and their wins and know that their struggle is valid and worth it. Our society is not built for healthy motherhood - our society is built for isolation. And healthy families do not grow in isolation; mothers and guardians need support.
