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For as long as I can remember, on Mother’s Day I have been filled with a mixture of emotions. Even picking out a card for my mom has been met with nauseating feelings of how I “should” feel gratitude and overflowing love for the woman that brought me into this world. I never really understood why that feeling felt forced or fake. Why I would either look for humorous cards to express my love, or nauseatingly loving cards, which felt like something I could visualize, but not truly actualize.
As I have begun to accept the profound levels of anxiety in my family, along with an addictive tendency, leading to co-dependency, I better understand my sentiments. I know that I struggle with unconditionally loving myself, and I believe this came from watching my parents interact with each other, and with me and my brother. What felt like…
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