“You are no competition for me,” she said.

“He was mine first. It’s not fair!” I screamed in rage.

“All is fair in love and war,” she replied.

We were arguing over Fred. Her words stabbed me in my heart. I was 14, He was 18. The other woman was 38 – and my mother. It was a complicated love triangle.

My mother had met Fred in a pottery class. She brought him home to our house and wanted me to meet him. “Laura, put some on some lipstick and rouge,” she told me.

After that, Fred stopped by our house regularly to smoke a joint and hang out. I found him fascinating – tall, blond with shoulder-length hair, and smart. He talked about interesting poetry, books and music. He made me laugh.

My mother encouraged a connection between us. She bought a bottle of wine and left the two of us alone for the afternoon. It was the first time that I was drunk. Fred and I made out under the grand piano in my living room. He was the first boy to touch my vulva. It felt good. I could feel his erection through his pants. My mom knew what happened and let it continue. For the next few weeks, we’d share these more moments of sexual exploration when we were alone. I wanted him to be my boyfriend. Then my mother put a stop to it.

“I forbid you to be alone with Fred,” she said.

My mother took over and began a sexual relationship with Fred that lasted throughout my high school years. At first, my dad didn’t know. I held that secret. In time, my parents’ marriage and my family as I knew it ended. My mom eventually married Fred. I was shattered.

This is how I learned that women compete for men. I learned that women could not be trusted. When your own mother betrays you, any woman could stab you in the back.

So I didn’t compete with other women, at least for attention from men. I was always the third-wheel, the wing-woman, the bridesmaid but never the bride. When a man showed any interest in me, I was startled and scared.

I envied my female friends with lovers, boyfriends, and husbands. I felt “less than” other women. I protected myself by people-pleasing. I didn’t trust others – women or men – not to hurt me. I tried my best to be independent.

In my early thirties, I started therapy. I wanted to learn what was so deeply wrong with me and how to fix myself so that maybe a man would love me. I wanted to be chosen.

Judy, my wonderful therapist, helped me understand that I wasn’t fundamentally flawed. My family relationships were dysfunctional. My mother’s behavior was not loving or appropriate. The trauma that I experienced was PTSD. Judy supported me to find and work through all my feelings as I shared stories from my childhood. She taught me how to keep myself safe in relationships by setting and holding boundaries. I began to trust and depend on others.

I started dating men, My relationships with female friends became more balanced and satisfying. I no longer felt defective or unworthy. Although I didn’t feel competitive with other women, I didn’t envy them either. I built the life that I wanted. I knew that I deserved love, including self-love. Yet finding true love was elusive.

Participating in Bodysex workshops during my fifties sent me on a deeper path to healing. I felt total acceptance and no judgement from the other women in the circle. I began to heal deep shame that I felt about my body, which kept me from knowing that I am loveable and truly loving myself. I learned that I could trust women.

My mom died at only 64 years old after a long battle with liver disease. In the hospital, she held my hand and looked at me as if it was the first time that she saw me.

“Laura, you’re beautiful,” my mom said.

I looked down and shook my head.

“No, listen to me,” she insisted. “You are beautiful.”

After she died, I was able to truly forgive my mom. She couldn’t hurt me anymore. I’m grateful that I was able to feel safe enough to put down my hate. I know that she loved me the best that she could. I remember the good.

My healing that came from Bodysex has given me more compassion for my mother. I have a better understanding of what happened. My mother grew up in a time when women had limited choices. I don’t think she would necessarily have chosen to be a wife and a mother, if other options had been possible.

My mother’s greatest commodity was her beauty and sex appeal. It was her value. In a culture that prizes youth and beauty, she thought her value was diminishing as I was growing into my own attractiveness as a young woman. She saw a young man attracted to me and she wanted that attention for herself. She was envious of me and saw it as a competition that she could win. She thought about herself at that moment, not the impact of her choices. All that mattered was the dopamine hit from sex with a younger man.

Does that oversimplify what happened? Maybe. Yet envy and competition are often built into relationships between women. We’re conditioned to judge and compare ourselves. It keeps us off-center and disconnected from truest selves. It separates us from other women.

Pleasure is healing. Self-pleasure in a Bodysex circle and alone showed me the way to accepting my authentic self. I trust women. I trust me.

I can say that I have found true love by loving myself. I choose me. I am whole.

Art: Mother and Daughter by Betty Dodson

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