I Am My Mother’s Daughter

Part of my healing is learning to stop beating myself up over how I reacted to losing the most important person in my life. That’s in the past. I can’t change it. But I can choose how I move forward, and I think part of that is learning how to honor her.

I am my mother’s daughter.

When I am at my best, I build people up. I celebrate them. I make their things big things because people deserve to be celebrated. And that’s exactly who my mother was.

She was the hostess with the mostest. Birthdays, celebrations, anything that gave her a reason to make someone feel special. She was selfless. She did everything for everyone else without expecting anything in return. If she could help someone, she would. That’s just who she was.

And those are some of the things I love most about myself, because I’m that person too. I learned it from her.

There are certain compliments you receive in life that you never forget. In almost eight years at the casino, the one that has stayed with me the most came from someone I barely knew. Kermit told me I was genuinely kind.

Of all the things someone could say about me, that’s the one I remember. Because that’s who I want to be. That’s who my mother was.

I need to embrace those parts of myself again. Not because I need to become someone different, but because I genuinely love those things about who I am.

I can be strong and independent and still care deeply about people. I can show joy, affection, and appreciation. I can celebrate someone’s birthday and make it a big deal simply because I want to. I can build people up, support them, and make them feel special.

And I need to stop worrying about whether someone thinks it’s too much. Too over the top. Too whatever.

If someone doesn’t like something, they can tell me. I need to give people the opportunity to tell me instead of making that decision for them. Stop worrying so much about how someone might feel about something I haven’t even done yet.

Because I love doing those things. That’s me.

And I think I’m realizing that one of the best ways I can still be with my mother is by being the person she taught me to be. By carrying those parts of her with me and continuing to share them with other people.

When someone tells me, “You look like your mother,” it’s music to my ears.

My mother was beautiful. She had the most genuine smile because she was genuine. She was adored and loved because she adored people. She loved people.

She was a wonderful, wonderful woman.

And I’m her daughter.

So am I.