Self-Control

My mother would always ask me to find some self-control
She would tell me many, mind-melting stories about what would happen if I failed
My ears would fall right off my head in protest of the silly words I would speak
Friends would call me “worse than cooties” and would shield their eyes from my face
Bears would chase me as I became prey with an imaginary “eat me” sign above my head

It is not like mother was a “no-nonsense” kind of lady
Yes, she wore nice clothes but drank cheap wine on the weekends
She has also been known to sneak some dark chocolate into her bedroom
No, she is not the type of mother you would not want your children to hear morality tales from

She simply worries that I live by golden rules that she never said out loud:
Be kind or expect cruelties to knock on your door
A little of something is wonderful, but a lot is a worry
The world needs a happy you, not a perfect one

Sometimes I break the rules mother has set out for me
I forgo self-control in favor of self-soothing
When those moments occur I hear a voice imbed itself into my head
It feels like a parasite at first but its calm cadence fascinates me when it says:

“We are better than this and we always will be”