Amy M. Schaefer
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From the Front Porch

I am an "accidental blogger". When I launched my writing career in March of 2014, one of the things that I decided to include was my journaling, which I have always found to be a comforting and therapeutic endeavor.  It was a big risk to open myself up in such a public forum, but it has taught me that, for the most part, we share far more experiences than we think. It's comforting to know I'm not alone!  (*the "Button Text" is the link to my first novel)
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Beautifully Broken

5/7/2014

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"You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly." --Sam Keen

Many relationships have been damaged or destroyed by unrealistic or unrealized expectations. My relationship with my mother was nearly a casualty of this affliction. In my little six-year-old mind, moms were supposed to:

  • give lots of hugs and kisses
  • tuck you into bed every night
  • put your artwork on the fridge after wildly praising your creativity
  • make neat school lunches for you to take to school (with the bread cut into fun shapes)
  • kiss your "owies" when you got hurt
  • read bedtime stories
  • let you have candy at the grocery store
  • bake you cookies
  • color with you at the kitchen table
  • make awesome costumes for you at Halloween
  • chaperone your school field trips

My teenage self thought moms were supposed to:
  • help you buy your fist bra
  • explain the mystery of boys to you
  • dry your tears when you got your heart broken for the first time
  • take your hormonal moodiness in stride
  • pay attention to your grades, your clothes, your friends, etc.
  • fuss at you to do your homework
  • help guide you as you tried to figure out a future plan for yourself
  • stay by your side, while teaching you how to fly

I was angry at my mom for many years because she did not live up to my expectations. She was none of the things I felt I needed her to be and even though my anger came from all the ways in which I thought she was lacking, the truth is, mostly it was rooted in fear. I was afraid that something was  wrong with me that made me unlovable and unwanted. My pain manifested itself by me lashing out and that didn't abate until I was grown and began to understand her insecurities, her own feelings of abandonment, and her lack of maternal instincts. I learned to love her, accept her for who she was and I am eternally grateful that she and I found a tenuous peace well before she died. We often disagreed on numerous things, but in one thing we were in perfect accord. Not long before she died, she said, "I am with you, baby, no matter how far apart we are and I always will be." And so she is.

*image from deshow.net


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    About The Author

    I grew up in rural North Carolina. When I was only nineteen, I moved away and became a military wife. My only aspiration at that tender time in my life was to create an adult life that "fixed" all of the "injustices" of my childhood. Secretly, however, I wanted to reach for the sky! I wanted to be a writer and find ways to "save the world" (my mother used to say, "You have Save the World Syndrome".). Mostly, I wanted to matter.

    Since then, I have learned to reach well beyond what I ever dared to think was possible. I've learned not to allow fear to stop me from whatever future I want to create!

    What keeps me grounded? My Tribe! What provides the wind beneath my wings? A well of reserves filled with unstoppable passion!

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  • Amy M. Schaefer, Writer
  • Blog: From the Front Porch
  • Novels
  • Short Stories
    • Children's Books
  • About the Author
  • Contact
  • Photo & Art Gallery