What is the Mother Wound?

The mother wound is the pain, wounding, and trauma that’s carried by a mother and inherited by her children, with daughters facing the brunt of this wound. 

Even if a mother is physically present, having a mother who is not emotionally attuned and available to you when you were a child can still cause pain. 

— The Mother Wound, as defined by Project Lotus

Healing from my mother wound has been one of the most profound journeys I’ve ever embarked on. It’s also the most devastating, heart-opening, and ongoing challenge of my life. Because I am a mother, this work is never-ending. I am constantly discovering new ways that my mother wound affects different aspects of my life, my relationships, and the way I operate in the world. It has been a deep journey of unlearning and understanding, and most of all, grace. In this post, I’m going to share with you how I see the mother wound best defined, what the journey has been like for me, and—if you are dealing with a mother wound yourself—how to begin and move through this inner work and stay steady on your personal path toward healing.

Let me start by acknowledging that I had no idea what the “mother wound” was until I became a mother myself (more on how that unfolded here). I was completely aware of my past, the traumas of my childhood, and how strained my relationship with my mother had been most of my life. But sometime during and after undergrad, I really felt like I had made peace with all of it. And at the time, I had. I just didn’t know how truly deep and expansive “all of it” was; there was so much more I hadn’t yet uncovered, and that could have only come to light after beginning my journey as a parent. 

To be honest, it all came upon me in a way that had me bewildered. I had just moved in with my partner and his daughter, about a year after our romantic relationship first started and two years after we had all begun spending time together, platonically. I lived briefly with a previous partner many years prior, but moving in with a kid is a whole different story. I was not prepared for the huge responsibility, lack of boundaries, and challenges headed my way!

For a couple weeks it was bliss. It was so nice to wake up with the two of them every day, to share meals and spend time at home together, and to feel a genuine yet foreign closeness to these people I had opened myself up to over the last year. Then, the triggers started presenting themselves all over the damn place. I guess now is a good stopping point to share a bit about what I went through as a child and into adolescence.

[Trigger warning: descriptions of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse ahead.]

I don’t remember the first time my mother hit me. It just felt like something that had never not been a part of my life. My mother was not known to be a merciful woman, and though my father didn’t “believe” in physical punishment, my mom was a completely different story. I wouldn’t call myself a disobedient child, but I remember getting punished constantly. If I was disrespectful in any way, I would receive some sort of reaction from my mom, ranging from her wide-eyed death glare to being smacked with her calloused hand or an umbrella until my skin was raw.

I was terrified of her. And yet, what I wanted more than anything was to please her (something that felt so burdensome especially as an only child). She always seemed to be sad, unhappy, dissatisfied… and so I constantly tried to do whatever I could to change her mood and demeanor so that I didn’t have to suffer from the consequences of those emotions. This included being super polite, always eating my vegetables, doing well in school, playing well with friends—essentially, never stirring the pot. But still, when my mother saw red, it was over. She would come at me with her rage until it faded within her, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. I think I understood from an early age that my mother’s rage had far less to do with me than with her own issues. I don’t know how or why God graced me with that understanding, but I believe it’s the reason I moved through the brunt of my traumatic childhood with a resiliency I’ll always be grateful for.

For the sake of connecting the dots and not turning this post into a full-blown “What I’ve Learned in Therapy” presentation, I’ll just express here the ways in which my mother’s own wounds affected me growing up. I became an ultimate people pleaser, and because I inherited my dad’s friendly demeanor and ability to get along with pretty much anyone, this was easy for me to take on. My mother never really got over her postpartum depression, and it seemed like for how much she was determined to become a mother (she had me at almost 40, with miscarriages before and after my birth) she treated the role as her ultimate burden. Her attitude was one of “I must do everything for my family and accept no help, whatsoever” and yet, she consistently resented that she took everything on. She also has control issues, many obsessive-compulsive tendencies, and a need for things to be clean and organized in “her way” (part of why she never accepted help). She would bark at my father for “being lazy” and never doing anything around the house, but never expressed genuine gratitude for the fact that she didn’t have to work outside the home and that he completely provided for us financially. She never put herself first, bought herself anything, and still had the habits and attitude of her own childhood in the Philippines, where she grew up very poor in a family with nine other children and never enough food or resources.

Fast forward to my new living situation with Bryan and Mila. I had no concept of boundaries and thus, I opted for completely throwing myself into the world of living with a child and becoming a parent without giving a second thought to what my own needs would be in this new life we were creating. I started doing all of the things. I volunteered to take Mila to school and pick her up most days, to be the contact person for her teacher and her extracurriculars, to make all of our family meals, put her to bed, bathe her… the list goes on. I gave all of myself, especially the parts that weren’t called upon before, when we had separate living situations. I didn’t feel like Bryan was taking advantage of me, because I was willing—and he was grateful after the stress of being widowed, an only parent and father to a growing young girl. By taking on everything, I bridged the gap between being Bryan’s girlfriend, to the additional role of becoming Mila’s parent.

At first this was really fulfilling. I felt like I was on top of the world, taking on so much and being respected, admired, and appreciated for all I was doing. But it didn’t take long for the resentment to grow and show itself. I started feeling like Bryan was taking advantage of me and all I was willing to do for our new little family. I felt like he was lazy and incompetent at handling everything, like the only person who could get things done the right way was me. I grew resentful toward Mila because her presence in my life had become all-encompassing and overbearing. It all felt so unfair, that my life had changed in all of these really challenging and exhausting ways, while I felt like everything I was doing only made their lives better and easier. I missed living with my best friends, staying up late with them, doing whatever the hell I wanted. I missed my alone time. I didn’t even understand everything I was feeling, I just knew I was bitter about how life changed so suddenly and, it felt like, without my permission. How did I get here?

In therapy, we worked through and named all of what was coming up for me as I moved through this huge transition into parenthood. My mother wounds became apparent. I felt like I was becoming my mother, and hating myself for it. I always had so much pride in myself for growing up to be nothing like her. I had kept my distance from her since moving to Colorado in 2012, so imagine my surprise (and disappointment) when suddenly this new life transition had me embodying all the things I hated about her growing up. 

This is where grace comes in. I learned to give myself grace and recognize the need for separation between my true Self and the traits that were really my mother’s. When I felt heat, anger, and resentment, I learned to name all of those emotions and let them go—because they weren’t mine to hold. Life has a funny way of placing in front of you exactly what you need in order to be challenged in the perfect way, to grow to your full potential. That is exactly what my journey into parenthood and family life became to me. And this is because, no matter how much we try not to be like our parents, human nature makes it so that when we take on new roles like parenthood, we usually take them on in a way that’s familiar to us or reflective of how we were raised. In other words, it’s not our fault. Still, this was so intense for me because, given what my childhood and family life was like, I never saw myself becoming a mother or having a family. And suddenly here I was, a mother within a family. But I never would have been called to do this deep inner work if I didn’t end up choosing that life for myself when I chose Bryan and Mila. It was coming to terms with what I signed up for that was the hurdle to moving through all the emotional trauma and challenges with grace. Grace became my mantra, whenever it felt so tender and too difficult to bear. (Side note: we ended up naming our new baby girl Amara, which means “grace” in the Igbo language spoken in Nigeria and other parts of Africa.)

I truly believe that most women have some form of a mother wound within them, even if it hasn’t presented itself yet. For some, it’s because their mothers weren’t around for one reason or another. For others, it’s because their mothers were physically present, but neglectful of their needs; or maybe they expected too much. And for others still, like me, it’s because deep generational trauma and wounding was carried from our great great great grandmothers, into their relationships with their own daughters who eventually become our mothers, who then pass it on to us because they don’t know any better. This could include physical, emotional, or verbal abuse, or a number of other triggers that are never brought to light or worked through. That’s how we become the cycle breakers, the ones who wake up and decide to do the work, because our collective mantra is It ends with me.

If you resonate with any of this and feel like you are on your own journey of healing the mother wound, I see you. I love you. And you are not alone. Here are 9 reminders and pieces of advice that I hope will offer assistance and grace along your journey.

1. The mother wound you’re dealing with now is not your fault, nor is it your mother’s or any one else’s.

Blame is easy. It’s a way to point a finger at someone or something and say, “YOU’RE the reason. This is all your fault.” It can make us feel better because for some of us, it’s easier when things are defined. But the mother wound does not begin with any one person (on the other hand, it can end with one person—you).

 It’s very likely that your mother did the best she could with what she had. After all, she is a reflection of her own mothering/parenting/upbringing, something neither of you could have controlled. And that goes for her mother, her grandmother, her great-grandmother, and all the matriarchs before that. More often than not, mother wounding is deep. That’s why the work is deep.

2. Healing your mother wound is one of the most courageous things you can take on, especially if you are a parent or plan to become one.

If you’re doing what it takes to heal, I sincerely applaud you—and I can guarantee your child(ren) (or future children) will thank you for ending the generational trauma with you. It’s not easy to confront a difficult or painful childhood. It’s not easy to separate yourself from who your parents were and get to the depths of who you are and what kind of parent you want to be, without those identities latching on. You are incredible for even beginning this journey.

3. Forgiveness is part of the path; you cannot complete the healing journey without it.

You don’t have to forgive right away. You don’t have to forgive all at once. You don’t even have to think about forgiveness yet if you can’t stand it. But in order to genuinely move towards healing and overcoming all that the mother wound means for you, it’s essential to let forgiveness into your heart. It’s the only way.

4. Healing is not linear.

Speaking from experience, try not to let your idea of healing from the mother wound look like a perfect cycle of overcoming one obstacle and then another, until X amount of hurdles gets you to the finish line. In some ways it will be like this, but it’s much more likely that you will have ups and downs, breakthroughs and breakdowns, bad days and very bad days, eventually followed by mostly good days. And I can promise you that even when you think your journey is complete, you will discover new ways of being challenged, especially as you parent a child that is growing right along with you. New stages of childhood and child development bring about new invitations for you to dive deeper into your conditioning and work to unlearn. You can do this.

5. Consider talk therapy or cognitive behavioral therapy.

The American Psychological Association (APA) defines cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) as a form of psychological treatment that involves efforts to change thinking patterns with strategies that might include: 

• Learning to recognize one’s distortions in thinking that are creating problems, and then to reevaluate them in light of reality.
• Gaining a better understanding of the behavior and motivation of others.
• Using problem-solving skills to cope with difficult situations.
• Learning to develop a greater sense of confidence in one’s own abilities.

CBT can be incredibly helpful in identifying how your mother wound is affecting your life, your behaviors, and your actions, and offer ways to overcome these emotional hurdles. Talk therapy is also really helpful for getting everything out and, if you have a good therapist, they can prompt you in ways that allow you to reflect on what’s going on within you and how you can start to change your thoughts, words, and actions.

If therapy feels like it’s out of reach financially, a great resource for you is Open Path Collective. Individual therapy sessions can start between $30 and $60.

6. Talk to your partner and/or family and friends about what you’re going through.

It may not make for good dinner conversation, but go for those moments before bedtime, during pillow talk, when you’re already connecting on a verbal level or just when it feels right (in which case, maybe it is at the dinner table). The people in your life who love you want to see you heal. They also could be the very people you’re unintentionally hurting because of your mother wound. Talking to them about what you’re going through can be helpful for all parties because it offers perspective. I spoke to my partner about what I learned in therapy that day, and even if he didn’t understand it personally, it gave him an idea of how to help me cope or how to deal with me at times when things were particularly rough. At the very least, he was a good listener and that was helpful.

7. You can set boundaries without communicating them.

I used to think that boundaries were something I needed to come up with and then list off and tell to the person I was creating boundaries around. After years of working through this (and thanks to my therapist), I’ve learned that boundaries are still completely valid and effective even if you keep them to yourself. It’s the follow-through that’s important. For example, I have boundaries with my mom now that she has no idea of, and I don’t need to explain them to her. But having them and sticking to them is what keeps our relationship healthy and keeps me grounded.

8. Celebrate your wins as often as you can.

Whenever I manage to breathe through a triggering situation with my partner or daughter that previously, I would have had a much more difficult time with, that’s a win worth celebrating. It’s important to recognize and applaud yourself when you successfully change a behavior or thought pattern, because it’s HUGE. It’s bigger than you think. And you of all people know how difficult it can be.

9. The more you dive in, the smaller the ache will become.

There’s no denying that this shit hurts; it’s called a wound for a reason. Learn to trust that even in the hardest moments, those moments when you feel like you’re being cracked open, healing is happening. It’s not going to hurt like this forever.

On a last note, I want to share with you a resource that helped me tremendously on my healing journey: this How to Heal the Mother Wound course from DailyOm that really just consists of 10 short lessons and corresponding writing prompts to help you reflect and work through what you may be dealing with.

Please know that you are so, so worthy of healing and capable of breaking the cycle of trauma that can feel heavy and burdensome more often than not. Feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions or thoughts you want to share. I’d love to connect with you.

Love & sisterhood,

Allie