I don’t handle emotional losses well. I never have. And every time I face another loss of someone or something very important to me, I’m a mass of confused emotions.
Tonight, I’m dreading the coming loss of my dearly loved dog, Lucy. Everyone has experienced such loss at one time or another, but even this sort of loss leaves me feeling helpless and scared.
I know why I feel this way, though — and it all starts with my mother.
I loved my mother and she loved me. That’s such a fundamental statement for a human to make that it seems a bit hollow. Everybody loves his or her mother. Every mother love her child. On some archetypal level, that’s true. But it wasn’t always so simple for me.
My mother left my family when I was 5 years old. The truth of what really happened is far more complicated, but as I grew up, all I could really internalize is that my mother abandoned me. I was too numb to what I felt to ask the real questions that swirled inside my child mind.
Did my mother not love me? Was I not good enough for her to want me? What was wrong with me?

Freedom lovers, why do so many of you still blindly trust the GOP?
Life is too short to hide the love you would regret hiding at death
We build our own prison walls, and breaking free starts in heart
She’s miserable in life she chose, but she’s too proud to change now
When it comes to ideas, should we prefer complexity or simplicity?
Home is just a dream that some among us are still searching for
English teacher tells Wellesley grads: ‘You’re nothing special’ — not yet