All my life I have been searching. Searching for the perfect person to guide me through this chaotic maze, from Day One.
I can still literally feel the deep heartfelt longing to be liked, loved, acknowledged, appreciated, guided, nurtured, accepted, reassured, and told I am unconditionally not alone in this. It felt like a burning flame of need, that scarred deeper and deeper, the more the longing continued. I can, only now, feel that burn beginning to heal. I am sure an element of this is all totally natural, and something that we all have throughout our childhood years, and adult ones too, but this felt different.
I would long for selected adults in my childhood to be the ones to take my hand. There didn’t seem to be anyone else doing it, so I made it my mission to find someone that would. My mother wasn’t in a place to do so: I was taking hers. The only trouble is though, that this determination didn’t follow through and bring the perfect guardian for me.
I was like a Magpie on a quest for my shiny jewel. This quest began aged 3 or 4, when shit began hitting the fan with my mother, and continued into a lifelong search.
This jewel I was on a mission to find, would be the person that would help me feel less alone. They would be the ones that I could turn to in despair, isolation, indecision, pain, crisis, and they would always be there. They would be the one to love me and tell me everything is going to be okay. They would be the one to bail me out and support me. They would be the one for me to confide in, with no amount being too much. They would be like the parent I never had.
This was never something I actually asked of anyone. All this longing stayed pretty secret, and was actually incredibly hard to detect. Most of the time it was just a wishing in my head. A fantasy that I would create, and a scenario of support that I would dream of. The flame of longing still growing bigger and bigger. My isolation and pain growing too. Other times it was actual support. A sports coach. A university lecturer. A friend. A colleague. A boss. When I look back over my life from my mid teens til now, wherever I have been, I have always had a person in my life knowing the basics of the chaotic path my toes have been on. There has generally always been someone that has known a bit of my current & crazy situation. Someone that I could just loosely mention something to, and they would know a bit of the background. Never did it go into much detail, these chats, but this search proved successful wherever I was at least. It just never went to the depths that I so desperately needed. Never did it become the shiny jewel that I had always hoped. No wonder though. Those stakes were so high, and my trust or ability to even open up more than a pinch, was non-existent. That was always just a longing in my head.
Perhaps I was searching for a mother. I never realised I was, and still hate to think that I was. In my eyes, I was searching for anything but. I gave up on mothers of the traditional kind, when mine started needing me to be hers. I shut myself off from anyone who remotely was around a motherly age. Instead I wanted a guardian, an older sister, just someone to take my hand.
As the years went on, this search for this perfect and shiny mothering jewel became harder and harder. My needs felt harder to ignore, and this longing became stronger and stronger. The little bits of support I was getting felt bite-sized in comparison to what I actually needed. Overdosing snapped this into shape even more. Suddenly this need was a size it had never been before, and the flame of longing burnt so brightly I was blinded by the need. And to add pain to the mix, my trust for myself had been wiped clean, so any hope in finding love and support from myself there, was a no-no.
I supported myself and gave myself such dedicated self-care, but trust lays the foundations for love to grow. And my self-trust was nowhere to be seen, so what hope was there for self-love?
The past month I have noticed this search for the perfect supporter, reached an ultimate point. A point where I was getting so pissed that no one could give me what I have always been dreaming of, perfectly. I had given up on the parenting/mothering thing…I just wanted someone to unconditionally understand, love and support. In this moment, I realised that no one is perfect. No one will be able to support me in the way I dream of. No one will be able to No one will ever be that shiny jewel…apart from me, to me.
Suddenly it clicked. I have been watching a part of me grow recently. A part that hasn’t been here before. A mothering, parenting, unconditionally loving, supportive part of me. A part that pipes up and reassures in times of despair. A part that nurtures and performs the most ultimate and dedicated acts of self care. A part that is there for me when I come home, defeated and depressed, or anxious and so scared.
This part of me is there to tell me everything is going to be okay. This part of me is here to love me unconditionally. This part of me knows all the things to say. This part of me knows what I need. This part of me knows absolutely everything, and therefore knows how proud I should be of myself. This part of will always be there, no matter what. And this part of me is me. This part of me is the jewel I have been looking for all these years.
All those isolating and painful years of longing to be parented and unconditionally loved, can now begin to be healed. For the first time in my life, this burning need is beginning to be met. And by the person that can do it the best. And shit, do the tears fall when I realise this.