I was going through my wordpress reader, looking at the sites that I’ve been following for long time, intending to do a purge of sorts, a clean up so my reader would show what I’d currently like to read. And then I found this blogger, Arathi, or miffalicious as was once her wordpress handle, though that seems defunct, as she moved to self hosting, which won’t open for some reason. However there was a link to her twitter, and down the rabbit hole I went until I stumbled onto this post written by her, and I just had to reblog it here. It reminds me of why I followed her originally, her beautiful way with words. I wonder where she is, and what she’s doing nowadays…
Anyway an ode to bloggers you followed in your teens.
Dear Momma,
The strangest thing seems to be happening as I grow older. I am beginning to understand you. And as I understand you, I realise that in many ways, I am beginning to understand myself.
I understand, Momma, that you are not perfect, even though I expect you to be. When you fail, my ideas of what should, and shouldn’t be, come crashing down. And I struggle. I struggle to forgive you for making mistakes, and for throwing me into an abyss of confusion.
And yet, when I do begin this process of forgiving you, Momma, I realise that in actuality, I am forgiving myself. Forgiving myself for the expectations that I’ve placed upon myself and my need for perfection.
I understand, Momma, that you have your own desires and wishes that, increasingly, are so separate, and yet so similar, to mine. We are not the same person, Momma…
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Fine Words Weave 