Here is a poem created after completing a piece of neurographic art to express the experience of having a mother who is not capable of love. The holidays often make this reality more painful, as many people enjoy family connection while the child of the narcissist works to reconcile the absence of a caring parent.
To create neurographic art, focus on a feeling or emotion you want to convey. Then intuitively scribble a shape. Then, soften and connect the lines where they meet. Next, colour each segment with whatever shade resonates in the moment.
This part is optional. Add words to the artwork, journal the emotions and feelings when thinking about the art and any other thoughts that arise. Circle words that stand out and resonate. Finally, use those words to shape a poem.
A Mother Who Could Not Love
I grew up beneath a dark cloud,
learning to bend myself small,
believing I could have done better
if only I tried harder,
if only I earned what should have been freely given.
Your love was a maze with no exit,
a test with shifting rules,
a place where accountability never lived
except on my shoulders.
I learned to smooth the edges of my voice
just to get along,
to carry the blame you handed me
as if it were truth.
And yes, it’s hard
to unlearn the stories carved into me
by a mother who could not love,
who mistook control for care,
who believed she deserved a seat at my table
even when she never brought nourishment.
But something in me shifted.
A quiet knowing.
A rising.
A remembering.
I began to focus on who loves me,
not who wounds me.
I began to protect my peace
as if it were sacred
because it is.
I started to value myself,
not through your eyes,
but through my own.
I realized I deserve gentleness,
deserve softness,
deserve to be held without conditions.
And so I am letting go
of the weight that was never mine,
the ache that never healed,
the hope that kept me tethered
to someone who could not meet me.
Now, I choose to just be
unfolded, unhidden,
no longer performing for love
that was never coming.
I am becoming
authentically me,
and for the first time,
that is more than enough.