I’m going to do this in two parts. Part 2 (which hopefully won’t take forever for me to write – but it might, my father post is still being written) about my actual mother, and this post, part 1, about wanting to be a mum one day, and miscellaneous other stuff.
If ever people ask, or hint at it, or it somehow comes up in conversation, I’m very quick to assert that I won’t ever have kids, that I’m not interested, that it’s not for me, no thank you. To my therapist or to pocketcanadian, I might say that I don’t want to fuck up innocent children by being their mother. That I wouldn’t be any good. That I’d mess it up and damage them and carry on the cycle. Not in an abusive way or an intentional way, but in the way that my trauma would get in the way, and without wanting to or meaning to, despite actively trying not to, I’d mess it up, because I’m too damaged to be able to be a mother. That I don’t want to pass my shit on to another generation, like it was passed onto me.
And, if I was to admit to it, I want to be a mum.
I just wrote a paragraph about that, and I’ve deleted it, because who am I kidding? It doesn’t matter if that’s something I want. It won’t happen for a bunch of reasons, and nor should it. I would be a terrible mum lol.
Maybe I’ll come back to this one too, I think this is enough for tonight.