It had to be you.

A big part of succeeding is believing that you will.

A big part of believing you will is entrenched in how you feel about yourself.

A big part of how you feel about yourself comes from how you are taught to see yourself.

A big part of how you are taught to see yourself comes from your upbringing.

A big part of your upbringing involves the person who serves as your earliest primary caregiver.

A big part of your earliest primary care comes (quite often) from your mother.

So no matter how you slice it, a big part of you is her. 

***

Today is Mother's Day. I am a forty-one year old daughter, mother, wife, physician and self-professed go-getter. I try to live my life with intention and make an effort to pay close attention to the life I've been given. That's what I'm doing today.

I have tried to do a lot of things in my life. Some things I have done successfully. Others have not worked out in my favor. But one thing I know for sure is this:  Nearly everything I try or have tried to do, I've gone into it thinking I can win. I truly have. Thinking and believing that everything from rollerskating backwards to becoming a physician were things I could possibly succeed at doing.

And I've felt that way for a long time.

My mother has a lot to do with that. She told me early and often that I was smart and capable and creative and talented. She told me with her words, but more with her actions. She listened to my stories and read my little books. From as early as I could remember, she showed me how much I mattered. Through her attention and her sacrifice, she always has. She laughed at my jokes and drove me to all of those activities like Girl Scouts and Drama and any other random thing I decided to explore. To this very day she still does. . . .although my "little books" are no longer half-folded and stapled notebook paper but instead a collection of random web-based tales. My mother instilled in me--through her unwavering support--this idea that a lot of things were possible for me. So at some point, I started to believe it. I started believing I could win.

And I still do.

I now know that this is half the battle in most things. Just thinking something is attainable. This I know for sure.

And honestly? I also know that having a mom like my mom is not promised to everyone. Living to be forty one has helped me to know that part for sure, too. I know that some mothers are broken people who hated themselves so much that all their energy went into that exhausting emotion. Because anyone who has ever participated in the exercise of self-hatred knows that it can be a full time job. Leaving no time for loving or building up kids.  And let me tell you, knowing that this is the case--even for some of my dearest friends and readers of this blog--I am all the more careful to be thankful for my own mother.

I am.

I've said here before that I think a parent's primary job is to love their children enough to keep anyone or anything from robbing them of their innocence before it's time. Once innocence is lost, you can't have it back. All you can do is try to rebuild. Some slug it out and figure out how to live the closest thing to a normal adult life that they can. And even those people still have drawers filled with all of those broken pieces from their childhoods--those pieces that came from broken mothers or broken caregivers.

Some others have too many broken pieces to stuff into drawers or closets. So they, too, live broken lives.

Then there are those who did have wonderful mothers but who no longer have them here.  So this morning, even if they are mothers themselves, Mother's Day is bittersweet. Some part of it is spent weeping and deeply missing her in a way that is almost unbearable.

I am thinking of them, too.

Some are in between all of these. Or don't even know how to feel about their mothers. And you know? They, too, are on my mind today.

Yeah.

It would really have been fine to just write a quick love letter to my mother on this blog today. But, you see, here is the other thing I learned from her: to think about others and how they are feeling. To experience joy, yes, but to still pay attention to what is swirling around me. So, thanks to her, I can't help but do that.

Thanks to your comments and blogs and friendships and conversations, I have some ideas about who is swirling around these words today. Friends who are mothers. Friends who are grandmothers. Friends who are daughters and sons. Friends who are filled with joy. Friends who are mourning. And friends who fight every single day to put those broken pieces back together before the cycle continues.

So, yeah. I'm thinking of all of you. . . . right along with my own mother. And the mother who raised her up to be the unbroken woman she is.

And my mother would approve of that. I know she would.

***

A big part of me succeeding is believing that I will.

A big part of me believing I will is entrenched in how I feel about myself.

A big part of how I feel about myself comes from how I was taught to see myself.

A big part of how I was taught to see myself came from my upbringing.

A big part of my upbringing involves the person who served as my earliest primary caregiver.

A big part of my earliest primary care came from my mother.

So no matter how I slice it, a big part of me is her. 

***

Happy Mother's Day, Tounces aka Grandma Shugsie. I'm glad it was you. Because for me to be me, it had to be you.

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . Harry Connick, Jr. sings "It had to be you."