Please baby girl, don’t make the same mistakes as me.

And I cannot help but feel it is a selfish plea.  I would suffer.  I would suffer to see her float aimlessly through life looking for love in all the places it is not.  But who am I to judge her journey?  Who am I to dictate what she should learn or how she should learn it?  I am but her mother, but the means of her birth into this world.  In many ways my responsibilities ended there and yet, in many more they just began.

Does she have to make the same mistakes as me?

It is more likely she will make her own.  And though out in the world they may look different than mine, the feelings from within will be the same.  She will ask herself who she is, question that she is enough, wonder if she is beautiful.  I feel like I could answer all of those questions.  I know I could, but it is not I to whom she must listen.  She has her own guide, muffled though He may sound, and I must trust that one day she will hear.

I must trust her mistakes.

And let go.  All I can ever do is my best.  The only shit I can really, truly heal is my own.  And if I listen to my guide, if I am willing to give it all away, it might come to pass.

And she won’t have to make the same mistakes as me.  I can let her make her own.

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