Bare Feet

So this week is Mom's week on Postsecret, and one of the postcards shows holes that a mother punched in a door, trying to get at her child so she could continue hitting him/her. Four or five more people wrote in, with pictures of their door-holes, and the final email on the subject was one single line:

my mom knocked down my door to save my life when i tried to commit suicide.

And for some reason this hits me like no other. That someone put a positive spin on the breaking down of the door, to save a life rather than to ruin it. The things mothers do for their children. The things my mother has done for me, and the things she hasn't. I may complain about my mother a lot, but the fact remains that she is, largely, how I define myself. How I am like her, and how I am not. That although she irks me, she is one of my best friends, and the person I confide in nine times out of ten.