I’ve been thinking about working on becoming more at peace in my mind. And yes, thinking about working at peace is different from actually doing it. But here we are. Still, the older I get, the more I understand the patterns that live in my head and where they came from.

I’d long thought a ‘good mother’ was someone who worried about everything – real or imagined – and did so loudly enough for everyone to hear. Quiet suffering did not count. I also believed that if I could gently steer someone’s life toward my idea of happy, things would feel calmer for everyone. I know how that sounds; I’ve reread it. But it wasn’t completely about control. It was the only coping skill I had: if I could manage the world around me, maybe the world inside me would settle.

Over time, I realized this kind of

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