Born to Win!

Somewhere in the depths of even the worst of relationships there may be buried one redeeming pearl.

That one pearl to which I am attached . . . the gift that my mother gave me that has been the strength of my whole being . . . the one thing that has kept me from simply laying down to die…

Some years ago she gave me this book for my birthday, with the note inside,

left-quoteI bought this because it has your picture on the cover.”

Such was the cryptic shorthand she used to communicate with me … Left to my own interpretation, because what else was there? I took it that she meant that I was born to win . . . I invoke it in my best moments and desperately pray for its magic in my worst.

She made me believe I was born to win. Born To WIN.  BORN to win.

I hold it in my heart, clutch it to my wounded psyche. When I am most abandoned, most lost, most lonely. A five year old girlchild alone and scared, wishing for a Mother to hold me and protect me. I remember born to win.

Inside my competent and totally in charge, independent exterior, I pray that it will work again, born to win.

I pray that she was right. I pray for the strength to go on, take one more step, live through one more day. Take care of my children, feed them, love them, be a mother to them.

I need for everything to stop, or at least slow down, so that I can manage to cope with it all. Vanessa is growing up so very fast, I’m barely staying ahead of her emotionally, and I am so hurt, I need so much for someone to hold me. Just hold me. Without wanting something from me. Just to feel safe for once in such a long while. Just to feel safe.

And I say it again, born to win. . .

Born to Win! Mar02


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