Not good enough

Lately I have been feeling like I don't measure up. I feel like I fall short of what a good mother is. Like I am not the mother I could be or should be. I fear that I'm not balancing my mothering correctly and one of my children will inevitably get the short end of the stick.  I'm constantly comparing myself to friends and people I know online. I can frequently be heard (in my head) berating myself for being a terrible mother. I do so much for my children, yet I think to myself that I should be doing so much more. I think to myself that what I'm doing is not good enough. 

(Even when I give of myself so much, I still think to myself, that's what a mother is supposed to do.  I'm no better or different in that regard. So if you call me Supermom when I do this--> 

my inner critic won't agree.)

So, I conclude that I'm not good enough. I worry my children are not going to become better human beings than me. That they'll wind up with the same problems and issues and fears, the same anxieties and self-doubt and sadness as me. 

I wish I was more sure of myself and my abilities. I wish I had an inner life that was more positive, loving and more supportive. I wish I had been exposed to positive mothering as a child. Because all I know is a mother who wasn't there. All I know is a mother who is a selfish person and whose only redeeming qualities was giving me life and giving me to my father. To this day in my 36th year, she has not changed. I wish I could have witnessed a mother who loved unconditionally, a mother who had her shortcomings and did not berate herself about those constantly. A mother who was present in every sense of the word. But I did not. And as much as I have come to accept that, I am still clearly saddened by it. 

So I turn to my husband because I know he had that growing up. His mother's love and support made him the confident person he is today. I look to him,and the inner life he seems to have, as a model, a blueprint of the inner life I would like to have. When he does something wrong, he doesn't dislike himself for it. He doesn't dwell on the past. He looks for new beginnings and the chance to start over the next day or the next moment. He doesn't dwell on what isn't or wasn't. He doesn't harp on what should be or should have been. He accepts things and people for what they are. He doesn't expect change and isn't disappointed easily. Most importantly he loves himself for all that he is. 

I love him for all that he is and for the way he is able to help me see the light just as I am headed for the dark. 

And I love his mother for knowing we desperately needed some time to be alone as a couple and giving it to us without us even having to ask.