A Mother's Love

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When I think of the word “mother,” I think of comfort and security, of advice and open arms, of forgiveness and a love only a mother could give. I think of a mother braiding her daughter’s hair, helping her get ready for dances and prom, and providing her guidance through life’s endless dilemmas. However, when I think of my own mother, none of these traits and thoughts come to mind.
Of course you gave birth to me, but there’s more to being a mother than solely bringing a child into this world. You’re supposed to be my foundation, my shoulder to lean on, my best friend. You’re supposed to comfort me at my worst, and cherish me at my best. You seem to be ignorant of all of that, though, especially when I turned twelve.
The man you married after my father, your third marriage, ruined my life. You claim that you never saw him talk down to me, lock me out of the house, or hit me. You say you never saw the bruises he left on me, or how I would flinch and cower to him. It took me three years to finally have the courage to tell you what he had done, and you shot me down. You exclaimed I made it all up, that I only wanted attention, that it never happened. You made me question my sanity, question my memories. I should have questioned you and your guilt, you’re insecurity. It took me five years after you divorced him for me to realize what was really going on, what I was too young to understand.

You knew all along what he was doing. How can I be so sure? Because there were times when he’s slap me so hard he’s knock me off my feet, and you were in the same room. You saw it happen. What did you, my mother, do in reaction? Turned around and continued washing the dishes. In your mind, if you stuck your head in the sand, it would all go away, it would make you innocent. As long as you had a (really nice)home to live in, a well known man to be married to, and have a good reputation as a mother and wife, it was worse the small sacrifices that would have to be made. Those sacrifices included my childhood, the childhood that was supposed to be innocent and simple. That opportunity was ripped away from me so you could live your “dream” marriage.

You disgust me as a mother and as a human being. All I hear from you is self-pity, excuses, and lies. People makes mistakes, of course, but not the same one over and over again. Mistakes don’t included making your daughter take five pills a day since she was five years old for nine years to “fix” a problem she didn’t have. Mistakes don’t include not standing up for your daughters when they were showing obvious signs of abuse. Mistakes don’t include kicking your daughter out of your own because she’s “too much to deal with,” especially when “too much to deal with” actually means, “pointing out your questionable actions and motives.”

Sure, you are my role model. A role model of what I what I never want to become.





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