Client Journal: Mother Need – Dear Mom


Dear Mom,
I am jealous of my sister because I feel like you love her more than me. I feel that way because you visit her if she is having a hard time with either her job or her kids; you drop everything to be near her. You always tell me how proud of her you are, I can’t even remember the last time you said that to me and it makes me feel jealous and angry. Angry because the life she chose happens to fall in line with what you wanted for her, therefore she gets your love, your support, your energy. What do I get? Seriously, what do I get? What do you give me? I’ll get a phone call here and there but when I talk about my stress or my problems, the subject gets changed. Why? Why don’t you care to really hear about my life? Do you want to really know what’s going on with me? How I feel? Then I start to criticize myself. I tell myself I’m worthless. That I’m not as important as S, that I’m not worth or deserving of your attention because my life doesn’t look like hers. I am so mean to myself because I believe that you love her more! And when I start to think that, I feel so sad and depressed and I just keep on picking on myself until I feel like I want to die! I want you to accept me, I want you to love me. I want you to ask how I’m feeling and I want to feel safe enough to tell you something without worrying that after 5 minutes you will change the subject to something totally unrelated. I want you to at least accept the fact that I’m an artist and not say things to make me doubt myself. I doubt myself enough and I need someone in my corner who loves me and supports me. I want that someone to be you. But I don’t know if it ever will be. And I feel hurt and angry by that.

The mother pain is deep for you. Are you becoming aware of how much it rules your self esteem and expression? It is important to witness your thoughts, feelings and beliefs around this wound.

What do you think will help you move into healing around this need for your mother’s love and attention?
Will you ever be able to ask her, express to her this truth?

Client Journal: Jealousy

The earliest time that I can remember being jealous of someone was when I was 6 or 7 years old. My best friend, her dad and I were playing at the park. She tripped on something and hurt her knee pretty bad. After that, we went home and during the car ride I was being a passive-aggressive asshole. I didn’t really talk to her, and when I asked her if she was ok, it was in a cold, curt way. I remember feeling angry with her for getting hurt and having us go home. But what I think I was really jealous of was the fact that she was getting attention from her father. Her father is a pretty caring and supportive man. When she got hurt, he acted like a good father would: he cleaned her knee, got her a band-aid, comforted her, and put everyone in the car so that he could take her home so she would feel better. I was angry and jealous that she had a father who obviously cared about her and loved her and I didn’t. Around the time that I was 6 or 7 was about the time my father started to disappear. I started to not see him as much, and he stopped talking to me. I felt lonely and hurt because he was starting to be cold with me, and I didn’t know to express that.

I do have a lot of jealousy in me. But it feels good to start talking about it instead of trying to hide it or pretend like it’s not there. Another time I remember being jealous was when I was about 10 years old. I was jealous again of my best friend from back then. Her name was J. J was pretty, outgoing and popular with boys. There were two boys I liked back then, K and B. Both of them really liked J. I even did B’s homework one time because he had a learning disability and I thought that if I did his homework, he would like me better than J. All it did was free up his time to try to talk to J more.

Actually, the more I think about it, a lot of pain and rejection for me comes up in a bunch of different areas that stemmed from this incident. I felt sad and unworthy because the boys that I liked didn’t like me back. During that age, I was also pretty expressive with my feelings when it came to telling a boy how I felt about him. At one point, I think I somehow found K’s number, called him and told him that I liked him. He laughed, said “thanks”, made fun of me. I think he called me a dog and told me he liked my friend J instead. Up until that point, I didn’t have a complex about how I looked, yet after this boy said he thought I was ugly, I thought I was ugly. I wished I was taller like my friend J and pretty like her. That was when I started to become cold and distant with boys that I liked. Because back then, that was what seemed to work. My friend was cold with these boys, and that seemed to make them work harder to win her affection. I thought, “If I do that, that will work for me. They will like me more than her.” I now realize she was cold with them because she really didn’t like them. But now, I still do that when I like a man. I come off a little warm and then I back off so that they will chase me. And I still do something for the man I like out of desperation, like I did back then to get them to like me better.

Around that age was the first time I asked my mom for guy advice. I told her that there were these two boys that I liked and I wanted to know what I should to get them interested in me. I also wanted to know what a boy does in general when he is interested in a girl. The first thing my mom said was, “Are these boys black or white?” I told her that they were both white. She became upset, and asked me why I only liked white boys and what was wrong with me that I didn’t like black boys. I have since learned that she has had her own traumatic experiences associated with white people, (i.e. her friends getting lynched, crosses being burned on her front lawn, her father getting death threats from the KKK) but as a little girl, I didn’t know all of that, and I felt like once again, I messed up and disappointed my mom. I felt hurt, confused, rejected and unworthy and like something was wrong with me for not liking black boys. I also felt ashamed, like I was being a traitor to my race. After that, I stopped talking to my mom about boys that I liked. Even now I don’t discuss my love life with her because I don’t feel safe talking about that type of thing with her.