I know you don’t know me, but I know you. I am just like you. I know what you’re going through, I know what’s ahead. And I know how much it hurts.

We go through something different in our lives, we survive something different.

I know how utterly alone you feel, I know how completely bewildered you are. I know how angry you are. But above all, I know how brokenhearted you are.

The people we love, they turn into monsters. They break us. They tear us down until we are nothing left. They create a world in which we live in constant fear and panic. They hold our love for them against us and use it to inflict pain.

We are the children of alcoholics.

But because of who we are, because we are their children, we hope they will change. That we will change them. We hope that we will understand. We tell ourselves we’ll never be like them. We try to pretend we’re all okay, when on the inside we’re breaking down. We sometimes wish terrible things, things that we would never admit out loud. We wish for different parents, different lives, sometimes we wish they were gone.

Some days it is all we can think about. We wonder who will be on the other end of their phone call. We wonder if we’ve upset them. We live in fear, not knowing what will happen. We know that we can’t hide from it and we fear there is no escape. Some days it feels hopeless.

I have yet to learn how to deal with this pain, but I am slowly changing. I am changing the way I let them treat me, the way I let them make me feel. I’m learning that I am not alone. YOU are not alone. We try to explain it, we try to hide it and pretend like we’re okay. We think and we know that no one will truly understand how we feel. Because there are simply no words to describe it. But we can’t hide any more and we shouldn’t. We’re allowed to feel broken, we’re allowed to be angry. We’re allowed to be human.

They may have damaged us, possibly beyond repair. But they’ve also made us stronger, even if we don’t know it yet. We will get past this. We will heal from it and learn to manage our emotions. But give yourself time, give yourself grace. Love yourself. Stand up for yourself. Because you are not wrong, you are not to blame. You were given this life for reasons unknown, but you were given it because you can survive it. You are stronger than your parents, you are stronger than this. You will make it, even if it is the darkest of days.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Her View From Home

Millions of mothers connected by love, friendship, family and faith. Join our growing community. 1,000+ writers strong. We pay too!   Find more information on how you can become a writer on Her View From Home at https://herviewfromhome.com/contact-us/write-for-her//

To the Family with a Loved One in Jail

In: Grief, Living
Woman with head in hands

At first, I wanted to hide. I didn’t want to face people anywhere, not at the grocery store, not at work, not even at church. I was ashamed, hurt, and humiliated. It was after that day not so long ago when one of my sisters called me, sobbing so hard I could barely understand the awful message she was telling me. He’s been arrested, she was saying. We need to go tell Mom. Oh, God, no. Please, please, no. How can this even be real? But it was real. RELATED: Tragedy Changes You, But it Doesn’t Have To Ruin You...

Keep Reading

My Daddy Is In the Arms of Jesus

In: Grief, Loss
Grown daughter walking with older father

My daddy went home to the arms of Jesus just a few short days before Christmas. My family was given the greatest gift of time with him individually to speak the words they needed him to hear and to listen to the words he wanted to say. It was a gift we are beyond grateful for because we know not everyone has that time with their loved ones before they go, especially now. So, yes, I am grateful, but I miss him. I awoke this morning with a dance happening in my heart. The dance of grief and joy. I...

Keep Reading

Even Though You Left Too Soon, You Gave Me Hope

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Early sonogram image

This was the fifth time I’d seen those two pink lines letting me know that a baby was on the way, but I only had one child to show for it, so I’d learned to damper my happiness and excitement. Each miscarriage brought its own unique flavor—one was marked by anxiety, another anger, deep sadness, and then apathy. I’d learned not to get too close to a pregnancy, but this time I leaned into it in a way I hadn’t before. There was a tender and growing elation, and I felt immediate love and gratitude. Sure, there was no telling...

Keep Reading

We Picked up Our Daughter’s Ashes Yesterday

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Mother holding decorative urn in baby's room, color photo

We picked up her ashes yesterday . . . our daughter’s ashes. Though the funeral home was only about an hour away, the trip felt like an eternity. I stared blankly out the window for most of the drive, somewhat calmed by the cocktail of medications I had been placed on and was brought back to reality only by the occasional pain searing through my abdomen. When we arrived, the parking lot was completely empty. Snow lined the edges of the lot, and the sun shone all too brightly. We had assumed the funeral director would be there to greet...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Prayer I Ever Prayed

In: Cancer, Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Bald-headed little girl in hospital bed with her mama, color photo

Trigger warning: Child loss I had a plan for summertime fun with my children. We had just returned from a week-long road trip to the Grand Canyon. I intentionally planned to fill the rest of the summer with activities that would chase away boredom. Craft supplies had been purchased, day trips had been planned, and we were just beginning a week of Vacation Bible School. Excitement was in the air! Yet a tiny nagging fear kept resurfacing: Was there something wrong with my 2-year-old? Ever since she turned two back in the fall, she had become fussy. Our healthy, happy...

Keep Reading

My Mom Passed away and I Don’t Know Who I Am Anymore

In: Grief, Loss
Mother and daughter on a carousel ride, older color photo

For the last sixteen months of her life, I was one of my mother’s primary caregivers, and now that she’s gone, I feel lost. My beautiful, strong, hilarious, and fun-loving mom not only survived but thrived after a heart attack and open-heart surgery at age 67. So 10 years later, we were all surprised to learn that the aortic aneurysm with which she had lived for over a decade had expanded to dangerous territory. We were told she would soon die without another risky open-heart surgery. The one thing my mother feared more than going into surgery was death. Her...

Keep Reading

Dear Dad, I Pray for Our Healing

In: Faith, Grief, Grown Children
Back shot of woman on bench alone

You are on my mind today. But that’s not unusual. It’s crazy how after 13 years, it doesn’t feel that long since I last saw you. It’s also crazy that I spend far less time thinking about that final day and how awful it was and spend the majority of the time replaying the good memories from all the years before it. But even in the comfort of remembering, I know I made the right decision. Even now, 13 years later, the mix of happy times with the most confusing and painful moments leaves me grasping for answers I have...

Keep Reading

It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye

In: Grief, Living, Loss
Small dog with head hanging out car window, color photo

Our dog Carlos has slowed down considerably within the last few months. He’s always been outspoken and opinionated–a typical firstborn trait–and to hear him snoring most of the day and tolerating things he normally wouldn’t tolerate (i.e. being carried from place to place by my son, forklift-style) put me on notice that he’s in the fourth quarter. Carlos looks and acts like an Ewok from the Star Wars franchise. According to Wikipedia, Ewoks are clever, inquisitive, and inventive. Carlos checks all three boxes. As a puppy, we tried crate training, but it never took. It wasn’t for lack of trying....

Keep Reading

You’ve been Gone a Year, So Why Does It Feel Like Yesterday?

In: Grief, Loss
Old photo of mother hugging her young daughter, color photo

In February, you will have been gone a year. How is that right? It was just yesterday. I still remember the day we got the diagnosis. One I knew was coming but still prayed wasn’t true. I still remember promising you that everything was going to be okay, and knowing that it wasn’t. I still remember the first time I saw you and thought to myself, “The dementia is moving too fast.” It was just yesterday. I still feel your hand in mine as I sat next to you in the hospital bed. You were talking and humming along while...

Keep Reading

God Redeemed the Broken Parts of My Infertility Story

In: Faith, Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Two young children walking on a path near a pond, color photo

It was a Wednesday morning when I sat around a table with a group of mamas I had just recently met. My youngest daughter slept her morning nap in a carrier across my chest. Those of us in the group who held floppy babies swayed back and forth. The others had children in childcare or enrolled in preschool down the road. We were there to chat, learn, grow, and laugh. We were all mamas. But we were not all the same. I didn’t know one of the mom’s names, but I knew I wanted to get to know her because she...

Keep Reading