Parental Love, or lack thereof

In my blog post I started with a quote by the mystical Persian poet Rumi “The wound is the place where the light enters you.”

In that post I was talking about healing from addiction and overeating, as a guest blogger on one of my community resource partner’s pages.

I got my own post in my email today, and that quote resonated again with me.

The wound is the place where light enters you.”  As you know I just learned that my father died, and though I am coping with it much better than I thought I was going to, there is still a hollowed out place in my soul that never got filled with parental love.  I read articles about coaches bringing their children to Superbowl, and I see our President and the way he talks about his daughters.  I think about moms I know who are very concerned about the cleaning products they use around the home so they can protect their children. I understand that most parents want to help their children get ahead, not thwart them as my parents did. They love them.  And I don’t understand it at all.  I have no concept of what that kind of love looks, feels, smells or tastes like.

I asked my friend Robin about the love she has for her son, and she said she can’t describe it except that it is like none other. It’s an all=consuming, all-forgiving love, and I guess it permeates her very cells.

I will never ‘get’ that. I just don’t understand it. Now, this isn’t a pity-me blog post (okay maybe a little) but in reality its a puzzle to me.  I have always felt like that old cliche “I’m on the outside looking in.” but it’s true. I watch parents, especially mothers, with their children, and I see the love inside of them.  And it’s not a practiced lvoe, or a forced love. IT. JUST. IS.

This is the closest way I can explain what it feels like for me:  I am near-sighted, and have been since grade school. I’m 47 now, and I was at the eye doctor the other day, and of course they ask “What are the smallest letters you can read?” Now, I can easily read the top letters, but the bottom line I only know because I recognize the general shape of the letters.  I can’t see them clearly.  The opthamologist said “Well, if it were the difference between winning a brand new BMW or not, could you read it?” Well, of course.

But here’s the thing—-never having experienced real 20/20 vision, I truly have no idea what I’m supposed to look for.  I’m not sure if the leaves are supposed to be super sharp or mostly sharp.  I’m not sure how far away I should be able to read street signs while I’m driving. Does everyone experience the stars on people’s headlights at night? I JUST. DON’T KNOW. I have no basis of comparison, no baseline of what 20/20 vision looks like. I’ve never experienced it, so  I’m not sure what it’s supposed to look like.

Eye Exam Chart Stock Photography - Image: 18904202ttp://

So yes, I do ‘miss’ never experiencing that.  I do envy those who have had that, and who take it 100% for granted, much like we all take things for granted.  Our sight, our hearing, our health, breathing.  These things just ARE.  But for those of you who have never felt unwanted, please do me a favor.  Don’t take that unconditional love for granted. Give your kids or your parent a hug from me, and tell them you love them.


It’s the most precious gift you will either give or be given.  Nothing else matters in this world.

This entry was posted in Depression, Positive Thinking, Self Help on by .

About Susanne

I am a 45 year old married woman who is a survivor of child abuse, addiction and low self-esteem. I hid it well and battled it privately. I spent 10 years reading self-help books, watching videos, going to therapy and seminars, and as I healed, I was able to guide my friends through their own healing journey. I have been compelled to start this blog in the hope that, if you are reading it, you are looking for answers I may be able to provide, guidance on how to walk through the spiritual quest we call healing.

One thought on “Parental Love, or lack thereof

  1. Rachael

    its 1:15 a.m. December 29th. I’m sitting at my kitchen table starting a new journal. trying not to incorporate so much anger in to it. our stories are so similar it is almost scary… right down to the visual problems. which you so beautifully used as an analogy. Thank you.