After months of being free from insomnia, tonight was a night I found myself online and on social media, just scrolling. I think spirit wanted me to see something because the messages I received were so clear and confirmed how I felt.

I remember at the age of 9 I wrote on my diary “why doesn’t my mother love me.” I remember coming across to that diary recently and reading those words. My mother can be mean with her words, hostile and volatile when she needs to be.

I have always thought, “why did she decide to have children ?”

From the very beginning, I have felt unwanted and alone. My mother determined to be career focused left me with my grandparents at the age of 5; while allowing my 3 year old brother to continue to tag along side her.

I’m not sure where I should begin. My story with my mother has always been an uncomfortable one. Even today I struggle with connecting with her. Sometimes it’s easier than other days. I grew up feeling like I was a burden more than her child that she loved.

So I have completely cut off communication with my mother. My entire life we've never got along. As a child she used to beat me almost everyday. She has loved to cause arguments every day, tried to control every second of my life - causing me to act out, rebel and self destruct in my late teens/early 20s.

When I was pregnant myself I found myself waking in the night shaking with rage, thinking about all the times I had been invalidated and treated badly by my Mother.

When I was a younger after we moved to the U.S. when memories started forming and solidifying in my brain. You projected your frustrations and regrets on to me. Over the years it turned into a decrease in affection and an increase in criticism.

Trauma with your mama story No. 007

I assumed my mother hated me my entire life. What I now accept is this is jealously. At the age of 9 my mother got a boyfriend. My mother hated that he or anyone called me beautiful.

As child from the Caribbean; I learn to “hold emotions in”. I suffered verbal abuse from my mother.Her father (which is my grandfather molested me) I told her and it was swiped under the carpet. Her sister (my aunt) one day I was in the Caribbean and she decided to drop me in ocean to “kill me”.

I had a dream where I felt the weight of a baby on my chest, my hand cradling his bottom and head as our bodies gave each other radiating heat and love. I knew this dream baby was coming and I knew we were meant to be—it was a promise from the universe.

I was born in Rwanda (East Africa) out of wedlock to a fifteen year old mother and a twenty year old father. My mother’s family being Muslim decided to cover up the secret and made it seem like I was born to my mother's older sister who was 2months shy of giving birth at the time.

My very distinct recollection of my trauma memory with my mother was when I was 10 years old. I now understand that it goes back even further, as a deep feminine wound within my maternal lineage, but my 10-year-old mind specifically recalls that day.

It all begins with an idea.