Working out some crappy memories that seem to be popping up a lot lately.
Social media kills me on days like today, Mother's Day. Everyone posting homage to their mothers, and mothers posting pictures of all the things their offspring planned for them on this special day.
I know most of it is bullshit. But it still makes me feel like shit.
I don't know if my own mother is even still alive, and no, i don't care either way. That sounds callous, heartless, mean........and that's what happens when a mother throws her barefoot and half-dressed 16-year-old daughter out of the house on a cold November day. She told "our" family (my grandparents, aunts, uncles etc) that I ran away.
Even when I was a little kid I knew enough to wear shoes and pack a bag.
But everyone believed her, and when I called them, they told me to "go home"....however, she wouldn't let me.
She was divorced from the man who gave me his name, legally adopted me as his own because he chose me to be his. She had a 16-year-old daughter and a 4-year-old daughter, and she was dating.....working on marriage number 3 probably, (she's been married at least 5 times that i am aware of). She had me at 19 and never bonded with me, never wanted me. I grew up with her telling me I was a reflection of her and that I embarrassed and disappointed her. Thats the tip of the iceberg. I was clumsy, fat, ugly, stupid...and the only time she took notice of me is when someone else did. I grew up being most comfortable hiding behind furniture "forts" reading books when i had to be home. Otherwise, I was out in the neighborhood until all the other kids had to go home. I've been thinking about this a lot today, on mother's day, and I haven't really dove into it for years. What good does it do?
I remember holidays where my younger sister was celebrated and i was virtually forgotten. I was 11 years old when she was born and holidays were over for me. I remember the feeling. Back then there was no social media to compare my life to, but all the kids would come back from holiday breaks with new clothes, games, toys, stories about trips........One year, my grandmother took me school shopping for clothes and bought me everything i wanted. I remember feeling so excited that i would go back to school dressed like the other kids. As soon as my grandmother went back to Florida, my mother returned all the clothes. She didn't tell me not to tell my grandmother (like she did when her family would give me money in birthday cards or christmas cards i got in the mail and she would take it) so i told my grandmother and there was a huge fight and i got my ass beat for it.
Hugs? I love you's? time spent with my mother? No. We did everything possible to stay away from each other - my grandparents would take me every summer, my father would have me at his shop on the weekends, and I have not ONE memory of her being kind or loving. It was like having a hateful older sister that was jealous of me. She'd pull my hair, slap me, pinch me.....but never enough that my father would notice. I hated her breath. Swore i'd never drink coffee because her's always stank of it. (I do though, i certainly do)
When she threw me out (literally) that day, and locked the door behind me - she never admitted it to anyone. Social Services knew, and the police department knew, because when she wouldn't let me return home they were there so i could get my clothes...she stayed upstairs while i packed what she hadn't ransacked into two boxes and put into the back of the social workers car. Back then throw away children were not as common and no-one really knew what to do with me because i wasn't on drugs, in trouble, or ...pregnant. If i had been, there would have been places for me. But i wasn't.
I couldn't go live with my father, who was drinking heavily and had several of his friends living at the house to pay the bills (and live the bachelor life). What he DID do was pay me the child support that was going to my mother for me and supplement whatever i needed while i stayed with my future in-laws.
Yes, I ended up living with my highschool boyfriends family and that is it's own story of me being a charity case and babysitter for their son. They treated me well, but i always knew my place with them depended on being with their son. I acclimated. I was 16.
I can count myself lucky that my live wasn't worse than it was - It could have turned out a lot worse than it did. There were people that helped me in their way. However, my mother, she did a number on my Self. I mean, if your own mother doesn't want you..........
And now i'm at the other end of life. I raised my own children through nothing but strife in the best way i knew how with literally no one to advise me. I thought if i did everything the exact opposite of what my own mother did, show them affection, tell them i love them, support their choices, treat them like people and not property......that what i wanted for them didn't matter, and that i didn't matter ....well, it all came full circle.
My kids are both independent, living their lives and have no need of me. They are doing better than i ever did at their age. They struggled with me and they learned how not to be. I'm proud of them, because they can and do what needs to be done. They have given themselves a better life than they had with me. That brings me peace to know that they don't "need" me.
I really wish they wanted to spend time with me. If i called (and called and called) and said i needed them, or needed something i know they would make it happen. I know they would never leave me on the street, or in need. So is it selfish to just want them to want me to be around? Is it selfish to want to be remembered on a day like today? Or any holiday? I keep asking myself if i was a horrible mother. All i ever wanted was my mother to see me, to love me. And i gave that to them. I can't help but wonder what they wanted from me that i didn't give them.
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