Thinking about all I’ve blogged about, I seem to discuss fears quite a bit. I think that may be because fear comes into play in so many different aspects of life. Or because fear is a struggle that requires exploration to overcome. Or because I feel that fear is a powerful equalizer. So, a fear . . .
There is one universal fear that is so powerful and so terrifying that the fullness of this fright cannot be explained by mere words. That fear is a revelation that most everyone experiences at least once in their lives. It goes like this . . .
“Oh. My. GOD. I am just like my mother. How the *!?%&*! did that happen?”
Pure terror ensues from that singular thought.
It’s not that we don’t love our mothers. It’s not even that we don’t like our mothers – we do, most of the time. It’s just that we know our mothers, very, very, well. We’ve lived with them for a large portion of our lives. We’ve seen all of their weaknesses that they failed to hide. We’ve seen their meltdowns and outbursts at their very worst. We’re intimately aware of their struggles and their tendency to take them out on those closest to them. We know, too, that they themselves want more for us than their own mistakes.
And most importantly, in our childhood innocence, we saw all those things that adults don’t think children see or understand. And in our adolescence, we turned that childlike sense of knowledge into a “know-it-all” attitude and vowed NEVER to be like our blessed mothers. And though, in adulthood, we’ve learned to appreciate all that our mothers are, the sentiment of adolescence is deeply rooted in our minds.
So, several weeks ago, when this realization struck me, I was shocked and appalled. I was simply looking over my calendar trying to fit everything in, when I realized that I was very busy. And you know what, I like that. I really like being so busy that I barely have time to think about all I have to do.
“Holy Crap! I am just like my MOTHER. How the hell did that happen?”
And what in the world am I supposed to do about it? I’m pretty sure there is nothing to do about it. Maybe I can develop my mother’s positive attitude towards life and somehow see this as a good thing. But, this is something I don’t get from my mom.
Acceptance. Apple, you lie just beneath the tree that bore you. And when you go to seed, and grow, you will resemble that tree with maybe a couple of distinct qualities. But the end product will be the same, surely. Deal with it. But, man, it really is scary.
