title: Remembering Mother, Finding Myself: A Journey of Love and Self-Acceptance
author:  Patricia Commins 
description: As we enter the age of balance, we need to take a close loot at how we, as women, have perpetuated the demands of perfection that kill our souls. This book is, without a doubt, inspired by the feminine face of God. As we examine our connection to our first source of love, we open our hearts to fell that unconditional embrace of acceptance that we all crave. -- <i>Sonia Choquette, author, <i>The Pychic Pathway: A Workbook for Reawakening the Voice of Your Soul</I></i><br /><br />Thank you for creating the book, <I>Remembering Mother, Finding Myself</I>. You have addressed an area of concern to many in an enlightened yet practical and forthright manner. Drawing upon and sharing your own experiences and inviting others to do the same in order to promote healing in the mother-daughter relationship sets a brave model to others. This is a book for all women. -- <i>Dr. Micelle Thompson Iyaman, Psy.D., licensed clinical psychologist, president, Iyamah Behavioral Healthcare, Ltd.</i>
zlib_text: First Love is exactly like a revolution: the regular and established order of
  life is in an instant smashed to fragments; youth stands at the barricade, its
  bright banner raised high in the air, and sends its ecstatic greetings to the
  future, whatever it may hold—death or a new life, no matter.
  
  Ivan Turgenev
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Prologue
  
  Down the winding road of my childhood memories, back amid the countless hazy
  images steadily blurred with time, there is one memory that stands alone. As
  long as I can recall I’ve had the same recurring dream. As with all dreams, I
  find it difficult to remember clearly in my waking hours, even more so to
  describe. At once a nagging, uninvited presence and a familiar companion, it
  has remained constant through the years, in many ways truer to me than anyone
  or anything else.
  
  I tried telling my mother about it once, early one morning. I was only about
  eight or nine at the time, but I can still see her expression as clearly now
  as I did that day. She thought I was 