There are moments when the past rises up like a shadow behind you, reminding you of where you came from and what you’re still learning to release. This week, I met mine again.
My mom is back in the hospital. Mini-strokes, they said. Each time is even more difficult as more of her slips away. Tuesday, when I walked into her hospital room, she was sweet and tender in a way that felt new and very welcome. But then, as quickly as the weather shifts, her old defenses returned. She became sharp and guarded, the version of her I remember from my childhood—the one whose words could cut deep without her ever raising her voice.
It hit me harder than I expected.
There is something disorienting about seeing the past and present collide like that. It’s destabilizing to realize that the person who once caused you pain is now the person who needs your comfort. It stirred up old wounds I thought I had already healed.
Enlightening lessons
I learned some things while processing what is happening. Along with empathizing with her current and past struggles, as well as remembering the great things I have in inherited from her, I realized how much of her critical spirit lives in me. That rattled me while I was making the hour and a half drive home. Not the intentional harshness she wields as a sword in a battle of her own creation, but the flash of heat I feel when I’m overwhelmed; the sharpness in my tone when I feel cornered . I’ve spent years trying to soften those reflexes, yet there they are—echoes of her.
I felt a surge of fear: What if I become her as I age? What if time strips away the guardrails I’ve built? But then, a sense of comfort surfaced. I realized a bigger truth: we are all made of both light and shadow.
I saw her light and shadow play out in that hospital room. Instead of taking it personally, I realized she is simply another human. Another human having an existential crisis so of course it’s going to be incredibly difficult.
It’s important to embrace, not splinter, the whole of our soul.
We are all capable of both tenderness and harm. Acknowledging that doesn’t make us “bad”; it makes us human. There is relief in admitting the darkness exists. Once we name it, we can tend to it. We can choose not to let it be our motivation or driving our thought patterns and lives.
In the evangelical world, they believe if we are “truly saved by Jesus” there is no darkness within us anymore.
I think that is why the scandals in the church are SO very dark. Instead of owning and stewarding the dark, they throw bumper sticker theology at the darkness. They say to the effect “you are not me! I am washed in the blood of Jesus! There is no room for sin in me; I am the temple of the Holy Spirit!”
It’s not true.
That oversimplification is how trauma, pains, hurts, and character defects are never addressed in a way that is honest, in depth, truly healing, and empowering. That oversimplification also leads some abused to become abusers.
The darkness grew in our denial that the darkness is … us.
I am not my mother, but I am shaped by her. I believe we are all a collection of daily choices that accumulate into a life. Her shadows live in me, but so does my own hard-won light. Unlike the generations before me, I have the tools and the awareness to pause before letting the difficult parts take the wheel.
Growth didn’t come from eliminating my shadow (it’s not going anywhere else). Growth comes from learning how to walk with it without letting it lead and listen to the light instead.
If you’ve ever feared inheriting the hardest parts of your family, please be encouraged that awareness is the break in the cycle. We are not doomed to repeat the past. We don’t have to banish our shadow to thrive. We just have to know where it is, and choose — again and again — not to let it steer. That choice is our freedom.
To Mugwump Ramblings–If you want the slightly messier, more unfiltered version of this week’s emotional excavation, Mugwump Ramblings has you covered.
To Wayfinder–If you’re navigating your own shadows right now, this week’s Wayfinder digs deeper into the maps we inherit — and the ones we get to redraw.
To Sexplorer–And if you need a palate cleanser after all this introspection, Sexplorer is serving joyful absurdity and embodied honesty, as always.
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