Marta Luzim’s Writing the Wave: Mama Stop!

I wanted to tell you Mama, as you died, as you sat drugged on anti-psychotic medication, barely breathing, feeding tube up your nose and down your throat, because you refused to eat. I wanted to tell you Mama, as you threw me down the stairs, pulled my hair, slapped me across the face, tried to drown me in a tub of sudsy water when I was six. Mama I wanted to tell you as you held a knife to my throat, stood on the ledge of our window in your bra and underpants, rain pouring down and you wanted to jump and kill yourself. Mama I wanted to tell you, no, scream at you, no, grab you by the hair, squeeze your breasts and grasp your cold hands and say “STOP. STOP YOU CRAZY BITCH. I NEED TO BELONG TO YOU!”

Marta Luzim’s Writing the Wave: Mama, Your Body is Mine

Green, red, sky clouds of swimming blue

Lavender, squirrels, shapes of bushes wave

Huge oaks, roots groping into the earth

Majestic house of soul, large windows, waving blossoms of light

Coolness in the air with warmth that flutters through the breeze

This is life mama, this is life mama.

Mama. You taught me to say, Fuck, cunt, bite, pull, eat shit, vomit, dump explode. Mama this life, all of this

Warm, exited touches of heat, voices calling whispers

Deep longing

Comfort, nourishment, stomach filled with medicine of community

Wild Gods and Goddesses

Gift of unbridled passion

Do you hear me mama?

Touch and ignite the cosmic orgasm

Releasing all hurt, pain, holes of despair, pockets of longing

The love that never ends.

Mama, my body is my teacher. The body you said stunk when I played outside. My body that you reached to when you were in pain. Ran your black rain into my skin and cells. It felt like love to me.

My body awakens me in my sleep.

It needs food, soul food, earth food, stomach food

She whispers go here, go there, go everywhere inside of me

Tiny fingers and angel wings flap and massage me

Say, listen, listen, listen

Healing chants and visions, herbs, nature’s harmony.

My body is my legacy Mama.

Every woman, grandma, daughter and child who has walked the earth

She is the diva woman, dancing, swirling to the orgasmic plunge of the universe

She seeps into every pore, cell, vein of blood

Circular in the moment explodes into the womb, down the uterus, out the vagina

To find my voice…scream out…MAMA!

The moment, the seconds, the generations, the eons of life

Awakened in the Garden, the Tree of Life, Eve bit and it all began

You thought you were sin, wrong, unworthy.

But no more. My body is my teacher. She digs to live in my soul

Belonging to the body is the legacy; the women

Wild and dangerous, soft and compassionate, full of life,

Deeply surrender to the raging energy of love.

Not of violence, Mama

The eyes of the Shekinah: Astarte, Isis, Esther, Sarah, Leah, Rebecca, Mary

Creating the universe where fear and separation is at rest

I see you mama

Arms silent on your heart.

Breath no more

Soul floats away.

Can you hear me mama?

I am left here to continue on…

The past is the past and it still echoes in my present, dances in my dreams

And holds a candle to my present where I see a light in the distance to an

Unknown future.

But your face, mama, is there. Through the veils of time.

And a longing that remains…always.

Marta Luzim’s Writing the Wave: Mama’s Breasts

I was six when I saw mama naked form the waist up. Mama’s breasts were large, round and fleshy. I stared at them with wonder. I asked, “Mommy, when will I have those?” I pointed to her breasts.

“Later. Much later.” She said.

They became a mantra of sight. The image of her breasts. Mama, your breasts lift out of your cocktail dress. Hang over your skimpy nightgown, stick out in your turtleneck like fat bullets. You wanted the world to see your breasts. But your breast teachings were, “Never let anyone touch your body. Men are like dogs, they go from fire hydrant to fire hydrant.”

I hungered for the nurturance of your breasts, but they were made of mud and steel. You taught me to squelch my orgasms, to hate the smell of my body. So I fucked every bad boy to bond with the hatred you leaked all over onto me.

Mama. Considerable superficial charm and average intelligence

Absence of delusions or other signs of irrational thinking

Unreliable, disregards obligations, no sense of responsibility

Untruthful and insincere

Lack of remorse, no sense of shame

Poor judgment, does not learn from mistakes

Self-centeredness, incapacity for real love and attachment

No true insight, inability to see oneself as others do

Ingratitude, egocentric

Vulgarity, rudeness, quick mood shifts

Impersonal sex life

Failure to have a life plan

Personality disorder – traits are inflexible and maladaptive and cause either

Significant impairment in social and occupational functioning and subjective distress



Sexual intensity

Sexual release

Sexual intensity and insanity

Intensity of the insanity feels like the intensity

Of the sexuality.

How is this?

I seek…creatively?

How is this?

I don’t understand

Brain scrambling

Attachment disorder

Body feverish

Soul sadness

Life with mama

Client Journal: My Parent’s Daughter

I see all of my patterning in them. I am definitely my parents’ daughter. I disappear from people I care about like my father when I feel overwhelmed by something. I don’t think I pick fights like he does, but I do a lot of mental yelling at people over small/stupid things that usually end up not being the real reason for why I feel so angry.

I shutdown and just go mute like my mother, and I try to blame and rationalize my behavior and my feelings before taking ownership. When someone asks me a question that brings up a lot of emotions for me, I change the subject and/or give vague or short answers.

I am finally accepting that I act like they do. I was too much in my ‘fuck you’ to be honest with myself and own up to my behavior. I am cold like my mom and dad and I have my own addiction with baby powder that I used to eat when I really wanted to escape myself and escape from feeling and even from being responsible (I still haven’t eaten any but I definitely still have the cravings). For example, a couple years ago when I was fired from my job, there was a solid 3 weeks where instead of look for another job or talk to anyone, all I did was eat baby powder and sleep.

When my mom was venting, I felt angry and frustrated. Not necessarily angry at what she was saying, but because when I was trying to connect with her and find out more about the situation she is going through and how it affects her, she kept shutting me out! But I realize I can’t judge her for it, because I do the same damn thing. It was just eye opening really start being aware of my behavior and have it mirrored back to me.

Client Journal: Mother Pain

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

Client: I see what you mean. I wasn’t aware that I don’t trust her. Because I don’t trust her, its hard for me to express myself with her because I don’t feel safe. I think that is part of why I get into that whole spilling and then withdrawing cycle with her. I don’t know if I will ever be able to trust her enough to express myself with her, and I can’t wait for that day. It might never come! My self worth and identity are so wrapped up in how she treats me and if she accepts me. You are right, there is so much pain and anger and hurt there. And right now, just admitting it and feeling it helps me feel validated. Self validation is important to me right now, I guess because it is not something I practice. But I do feel more present when I do it. I want to be able to express myself with my mom and not put so much of my self esteem in what she says or thinks about me. I’m not sure what will get me to that point, but I do think validating myself is a good start, it breaks me out of that good girl mode and allows me to see and feel what is true for me when it comes to her. I think maybe as I feel stronger with my own identity, it will be easier to express to her, instead of just dump on her. I don’t know if I’ll always want her love and attention, but I would like to get the place where I feel strong enough, and validated enough in myself to ask for it and to not let it define me as unworthy if I don’t get what I need from her.

Client Journal: Hearing the Mother’s Voice

Client: I am split and part of me is my mother – I hear her voice and it is the part of me that is self-loathing and does not want me to be happy. The other part of me, the sensitive and vulnerable part, wants to break out, but the mom part is stronger and keeps me stuck. I want to get away from all of her hatred and sadness. I am twelve in this writing and I feel like I’m twelve again after I read it. I feel a great sense of loss, and when I look back I can see how I hang onto things, even when I don’t really want them, because I hate the feeling of loss.

Delve In
Marta: Hate the feeling of loss. It is heartbreaking. Yet it can open us up to drink in life in new ways, go after what we really want and live the life we want to live. Feel the bittersweet warmth of love.

Why do you hate your feelings, whether it be sadness or loss? It is life to feel. Feelings tell us what we need and want. They give us knowledge of ourselves. You cannot get rid of your feelings. You can listen to them and let them lead you. What do you think your sadness and loss means about you?

This is your “critical mother” in you, saying you’re too sensitive, too much, too, too.

This is what makes you unhappy, that your mother says you can’t be a feeling person and you don’t know how to express from your feelings because you were never allowed to.

Just for a moment ask yourself: Who do you want to share your sadness and loss with? Who are you afraid of losing? Can you love them more because you might lose them? What are you sad about? Can you find what you lost and can the sadness help you reclaim it?

Client Journal: Unmothered/Mothering

Marta: If we mother our mothers, we will have our children mother us. We will use our children instead to fill our voids instead of taking care of them. We need to find the mothers inside of ourselves to mother ourselves. It is not a child’s job to take care of a parent’s wound. You can feel compassion, or any feeling for your mother and express it, but do not minimize your feelings and make yourself unimportant.

Client: I do try to mother my mom. That pattern would also leak out in my friendships, with me dropping everything and changing my plans to accommodate their needs all the time. This leads to me feeling resentful of them, because after I would change/cancel my plans for them they would feel happy and able to accomplish whatever they wanted to accomplish. I don’t really do that now. I try to make sure I have time for myself to do the things I need to do, and time with my friends. Thinking about that pattern is making me aware that I have a lot of resentment towards my mom for choosing to take care of her over myself. It feels like a fiery ball in the center of my chest. I just feel so angry!! Because I want it to be my turn! My turn! My turn to look after myself, my turn to care about myself, my turn to love myself, my turn to get to know and feel myself, IT’S MY TURN!!! Fuck her!

Marta: Hit the pillows and scream that out. You don’t have to fight to get your turn. Your mother does not hold the power of whether you love yourself or take care of yourself. It is important to move through all the resentment and anger. These feelings are what you don’t want to let your mother know about you: How hurt, angry and sad you are. You don’t want to talk about your feelings because you ignore them and she ignores them. So again, when you don’t tell her the truth, you are taking care of her and making your needs second. This is an important pattern you are getting. Stripping this pattern and moving toward the place where you can find wholeness from this fragmentation of not having the mother, mother you. To reach this place takes a grieving process and renewal of yourself and the child within.

Client: After I finished writing you, I screamed. A lot. It felt good to let it out, to not hold it in, but you are right, I do need to strengthen the place inside myself so I can get to place and feel myself enough to tell her about my anger and resentment. It does make feel happy to admit that I’m angry, to admit that I resent her, to admit that I hate her, and admit that I try really hard to impress her. To admit that I am starving for her love and approval. This is extremely hard, realizing how enmeshed I am with my mom. Sometimes I start to freak out, trying to find where she ends, and where I begin. But I think that’s its a fear thing, a victim thing. It is giving me a lot of validation to acknowledge these parts of myself. It has me feeling more grounded and more even.

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: Dear Mom Letters

Dear Mom,
I hate you and I love you. I hate you because I feel like I’m not good enough for you. I try to please you all the time, act how you taught how to act, polite and nice. I smile a lot, pretend that nothing is wrong with me because I don’t want you to worry, I don’t want you to get upset, I don’t want to stress you out. But inside I feel like crying all the time. I put so much pressure on myself to be the perfect daughter for you. Make the grades you want me to make, do the activities you told me to do because you said they would help me in life.

But inside I’m hurting Mommy. I’m hurting because I’m not perfect. I’m hurting because I don’t always make the grades you want, and I don’t like some of the activities you want me to do. Like tennis, I hate tennis! I think its the stupidest sport ever! But I tried to do it, because of you! I try so hard to be everything you want to be. I try so hard to be like you. And I never say anything because I’m scared. I’m scared that you don’t love me for me. I’m scared that you won’t ever.

Dear Mom,
I make myself small around you, and I feel so sad and hurt that I do this to myself so that you will love me. So that you will approve of me. It makes me angry! That I would rather live for you than for me. I feel so angry, because I feel like you know this, but let me do it just so I can be like you. I feel angry because you told me the smell of gas gives me an allergic reaction and I pretended that it does just because I thought it would please you! I feel so angry that I faked a sickness just to be close to you! It hurts because I care about you, but the fact I care about you more than myself makes me hate you and it makes me hate myself. It makes me hate myself a lot. And that makes me feel very very sad that I hate myself so I can try to win your approval.

Dear Mom,
I had a good dance class today, and even though I was proud of myself and I feel good about it, I feel sad. I feel sad because I know that if I tell you about it, go into details about the combination, how I felt doing it and how much fun I had with my friend I know you would just dismiss me, change the subject, say “Oh. That’s nice.” And talk about something else. Because that’s what you always do when I talk to you about something I love and that I am passionate about. It hurts me and it makes me sad that it is so easy for you to dismiss me.

Dear Mom,
I spend a lot of my time and energy trying to be just like you. Some of the things I get from you I like. I like that I have good intuition, but like you, I try to ignore it, pretend it doesn’t exist or call it paranoia. I like that I have strong opinions and points of view on different things, but like you, I remain silent most of the time. Like you I tell myself that my ideas, my viewpoint isn’t important enough, right enough or interesting enough; that I’m not right enough, important enough or interesting enough to be valued by anyone. Not even myself. I like that I inherited your coca-cola figure, but like you I spent a lot of my time hiding it behind baggy clothes because I felt ashamed to be a woman. Like you, I want to be in love and loved by a man who knows how to romance me, take me out and give me gifts and flowers. And like you, I settled for men who were cold, distant and ambivalent towards me, who lied to me and disrespected me, because I don’t think I am worth more than coldness, ambivalence and disrespect. It makes me feel sad and angry that I take on your pain and your hurt. It makes me sad and angry that I call my own pain and hurt, it makes me mad as hell that I have to learn without you how to truly love myself, how to treat myself, how to respect myself and how to surround myself around people who will mirror those things back to me. I am mad Mom, that it is such hard fucking work for me.

Poem: Shadow Mother by Evelyn Park

Shadow mother
is what you are
a shadow of a woman, a sliver, a slice, a crumb
tip-toeing around me
a whimpering dance to keep from awakening the lioness within
yet you throw a steak at the mouth of my cave
every time we speak
you don’t know what to do
you don’t know what to say
you dust confectioner’s sugar on a dry carcass
in hopes that I will bite
in the past, I ate it up
in the past, I was ravenous
but you are my mirror
my soul in a corset of rage
because when I look at you
all i see is what I’ve become
the same silence
the same slow death
yes, I have left claw marks in your womb
but I am crowning now
I am gasping for air
I will break this mirror
and carry a shard in my heart always
so I never forget