The Nurturer

“The Nurturer is labeled personality number 2. This is a humble description of her.”

Mia is beautiful, let’s get that right. Long black hair, piercing blue eyes, and sun-kissed skin. She’s on the taller side, standing at 5’8, and has an athletic build that screams, “don’t fuck with me.” She’s always wearing something cozy and comforting, making her feel safe at all times. She’s everything I’m not, and so much more. Beautiful, smart, funny, sexy, envied. The kind of girl that you either want to be with, or actually be.

I’ve wanted to be her since I was a little girl. I always imagined what it would be like to be her. How much easier life would be if it were true. Her family loved her, fostered her talents, and was always there to support her. While her family is dysfunctional, she could handle whatever was thrown at her. Break-up? She’s a strong, independent woman that don’t need no damn man. Got a B on an exam? Boy she was off her game, but she’ll get it back next time. But to her credit, she never got grounded or hit for it. Gained a little water weight? You bet your ass she’s in the gym the next day doing something about it. What can I say, the girl is resilient. Her ability to bounce back is admirable, and something that I’ve never quite achieved.

Mia emerges in either a preventive or clean-up measure. What I mean is simple. If I’m about to do something that will have a negative consequence, she chimes in with soft words. She will tell me things like, “Go take a shower, it’s been a while.” “Maybe you shouldn’t have one more drink, it’s time to stop.” Try going to bed early tonight, you deserve some rest.” If I have already done something horrible and she’s in maid-mode? She’s there to clean me up and get me set straight for a bit. In those instances she says things like, “You should really put ointment on those marks, don’t want an infection.” “You really should dump the rest of the booze out and avoid it for the day.” “Try writing something down about what you just experienced.” You see? She’s very helpful, like the mother I never had. She demands to be heard, but is easily ignored by me. I don’t understand why I ignore her, as she’s such an important voice.

Mia is the nurturing, caring, loving motherly figure that I always craved as a child. While she has always been there, I’m only just now seeing her if that makes sense. Now her voice is no longer drowned out by the shouting and the abuse. As a child, she would be silenced by the other voices, and by family. Of course no one would want to take care of me, that’s absurd. But she does, and continues to do so. I just have to let her speak.

Sometimes I listen, but typically when I’m in desperate need of affection and attention. She’s the one that sends me to therapy. She’s the one that sought out treatment, and she takes her meds on a regular basis. That being said, she presents herself at strategic moments. She knows I am more likely to listen if she isn’t constantly on my ass to do the right thing. It’s like she understands how stubborn I am, and that I’m more cooperative if you give me space. She chooses her moments carefully, as she knows that her presence could mean the difference of life or death.

The others aren’t huge fans of Mia. They question her advise and her existence. I think deep down they understand the dire need for her to be present at least some of the time, but they accept it with reluctance. I think their hatred stems from her will for me to live. She thinks we can make it through this shit, while the others doubt and think she’s in denial. But Mia. Mia has a confidence no one questions. The others back off and leave her alone when she is giving advice. But once she renders her opinion and guides you through the shit storm, she leaves me to fend for myself against the monsters. I think she wants me to realize that I’m capable of taking care of myself, and that I just don’t see it right now. Whatever her reasoning is, I want her to know that she’s appreciated. She never hears that, but she will now. Keep on truckin’ along with me Mia, because if you leave me. Well. Let’s never explore that route, please.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: