One day Nicole and I were talking about her mission trip to Juarez years ago. She spoke about the trip with love and excitement. I told her that I always thought she would go into missions. Nicole's response slapped me in the face. She said, "Mom, missionaries become missionaries because their parents were missionaries. And look where I come from." Wow, the truth surely does hurt.
The last thing I want is to pass my dysfunctional ways to my daughters the way it was passed on to me. But guess what, it seems it's been passed on.
I am living the life my mother led. I rarely remember my mom laughing but I knew that she wanted to laugh. She wanted to be adventurous and she wanted to be happy. That's how I feel I want to be happy but the strings of heartache pull me away. Just like my mom I can't seem to motivate myself for a better life. The hole I'm in is so deep I barely see the light up above me.
When people are young we tend to say that we will not end up like our parents or do the the things our parents did, but we do. At least I have in many ways good and bad, I am my mom. And I hope that my girls will not be turn out to be me one day.
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