It was a character-building week, a week that thinned my hair, put circles underneath my eyes.
Megan Mayhew BergmanMothers, I believe, intoxicate us. We idolize them and take them for granted. We hate them and blame them and exalt them more thoroughly than anyone else in our lives. We sift through the evidence of their love, reassure ourselves of their affection and its biological genesis. We can steal and lie and leave and they will love us.
Megan Mayhew BergmanTag: mothers
Sometimes you didn't know what you were after, I thought. Maybe there was a speck on the horizon and you followed it, hoping for the best.
Megan Mayhew BergmanI want to mother the world, I thought. I have so much love.
Then—I have no business being a mother. I am a selfish woman.
Then—I can do this. Millions of women have been mothers.
Then—I feel very alone. I do not know what I'm capable of.
Tag: mother
I knew I was waiting for someone I didn't understand.
Megan Mayhew BergmanTag: relationships
I wanted, then, to become what I most admired, what now seemed most real to me. I wanted to be that exalted, complicated presence in someone's life, the familiar body, the source of another's existence. But I knew what I wanted was not always what I needed.
Megan Mayhew BergmanI remember thinking that moms were not allowed to be sad, that surely women grew out of sadness by the time they had children.
Megan Mayhew BergmanI don't want him to know that people like Louis's mom exist, that people fall into land mines of pain and can't crawl back out.
Megan Mayhew BergmanPagina 1 di 1.
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