Monday, May 13, 2013

Being A Mom

Warning:  I am a horrible writer as I have mentioned before.  I have no train of thought and tend to jumble my thoughts.  So please forgive my insanity :)

If truth be told, I wasn't given the best role model in life as far as being a mother.  As a matter of fact, I don't even like to call her Mom.  To me a mother is someone who is there for their children, who always puts herself and her needs last.  When I say that, I don't mean we forget what we need also but our children, should be ultimately the most important part of our lives.  If you chose to have a child or four in her instance, I would think that you would have some desire to be their "Mother". 

My mother has been gone for every bit of 14 years now.  Gone as in she left the area to yet again be with some glorious man (enter sarcasm).  You see our mother never cared for any of us.  She pawned us off on whoever she could, a lot of the time we took care of ourselves too.  Which by the way I can remember as early as 5 years old being home alone. 

My mother got pregnant at the age of 14 with my older brother.  First time having sex in a cornfield.  So that is the story anyway.  She gave him up to a lady that I am not even sure was related.  I literally did not know I had a older brother until one day out of the blue, we drove to Miami and picked him up.  I was 5ish.  I had a little brother at the time, he is four years younger than me.  So to say we were confused is an understatement. 

He came home with us very unwillingly.  I don't know what possessed her to regain custody of him.  I really don't.  She doesn't speak of things.  We have asked numerous questions regarding his childhood, who his father was, etc. but never would she answer.  It took until about 4 years ago before we finally pieced the puzzle together to figure out who his father was only to find out he was deceased.  Talk about heartbreaking.  He has began a relationship with his dads family though.

Sorry, sidetracked again...... 

I don't write this for sympathy.  It has taken so many years for me to even talk about her or my childhood.  I have learned so much from my counseling.  I remember as a child trying to make up an imaginary family that had a loving mother and father.  I tried to let on like my family life was that of every other child's.  Sadly, it was far from it.  Just for a little insight, my mother and father were together since they were young.  I was their first child together.  My Dad was my hero.  I mean we were two peas in a pod.  I looked up to him so much and mainly because he was the most loving individual in my life.  He hugged me, he kissed me goodnight and told me he loved him.  I honestly cannot remember my mother every doing so.  The only times I remember her telling me she loved me was when she had been drinking heavily.

My parents were not good together.  They fought physically.  They mentally abused one another.  I seen this all first hand.  The cops were regulars at my house.  We even frequented the women's shelters.  When we would stay there, it was like a mini vacation away from all the chaos.  I have seen more violence than any one child should.  If you have never been a child who has witnessed your parents physically fight, you may not understand what I am about to say but I felt torn when this happened.  I loved my Dad so much but at the same time I didn't understand why or how he could strike a woman.  Then I would be so mad at my Mom because I knew what had led up to the altercations.  She had either been with another man or my Dad had found her crack spoon (which she hid under my mattress and told me never to tell him).  I just begged for them to separate.  I couldn't handle the insanity anymore.  I was constantly sleep deprived at school.  I looked like a damn rag doll most of the time because I probably hadn't bathed in days due to lack of supervision and probably wore the same clothes for days.  I mean this is the hard truth people.  I can't believe I am actually going to publish this.  I wish I was making this up.

Eventually without reliving all the many years of horror, they did go their separate ways.  Well kind see it was then a war of jealousy when one was with someone else.  I begged to stay with my Dad.  So most of the time, I lived with him.  My little brother did also.  As far as my older brother, he had began staying with my grandparents which was for the best really.  He needed to be loved and feel loved.  After all she ripped the carpet from under him when she picked him up that night and made him come live through all the insanity.

So finally, the mother meets a guy and he is of course an alcoholic and they love the drugs together...surprise, surprise.  They marry and have a daughter, my sister.  She is ten years younger than me.  They also have a very violent relationship.  My new responsibility becomes taking care of her.  Literally raising her as they sit in the bar every night.  Do you know what that is like for a ten year old, that just lost her father???  I was so mentally exhausted that I didn't know which way was up.  My Dad had just suddenly passed away and here I was having to live with her again and take care of a baby.  All while trying to go to school and heal myself.  For years the usual happens, fights occur, abuse is running rapid, they're spending their times in the bars drinking and doing drugs and we are just left to take care of ourselves.

Then one day they have the brilliant idea of packing up and moving to Illinois.  Why?  Because that is where he is from (the step-dad).  So we do.  I then have little to no contact with my dads family nor my older brother.

So once we are here, things continue as they always have.  Now however we are here with no one we know and in a strange place, new schools, friends, etc.  We move a couple times and switch to yet another school.  Eventually, they divorced.  I ended up living with a girl in my class's family.  They were God sent for taking me in.  My older brother had since gotten with my sister in law and they had a daughter.  They were doing really well.  My little brother actually stayed with her.  I can't recall why.  I really have a hard time remembering most of my childhood.  I know it is because I block it out.  Trust me there are many times that I will literally make myself stop and focus on the past just to try and get it out but it is hard.  Once that sick feeling comes to mind, I immediately stop.

Sorry for the confusion.....

As we got older, obviously we did what we wanted.  There were no rules, no one to stop us from doing the wrong thing.  No one to get advice from.  The teenage years were rough.  I can't even begin to explain all that.  There were times that the mother would try to be a "normal" mom but the fact was, she was never going to be.  No matter how much I prayed for a sense of normalcy, it was never going to happen. 

There were times I honestly just prayed that if I couldn't get normalcy with her around, I wished she would just disappear.  Sounds harsh you say?  Until you are in my shoes, you will never, ever know what it felt like to think that way. 

Fast forward a couple more years.......

My little brother was a sophomore in school I believe, I was 20 and my older brother who had made the move here about 5 years previously was about 24 and the little sister was 10 and was at the time in the custody of her grandmother basically but her father lived there.  I had literally just found out I was pregnant with Dayne and my little brother had just found out his girlfriend was pregnant with my nephew Dalton. 

Clearly, these are crucial times in our lives.  I mean if anyone my little brother probably needed more guidance now than ever.  I can only give so much support in those areas.  After all, I was pregnant too.  Not in a planned way either.  I was scared, nervous and wondering what on earth I was going to do with myself.  You see, after all I went through raising my siblings, I always thought to myself, I do not want kids.  I need time to just be me because for as long as I can remember, I was taking care of a child.  Not my own either. 

She finally left......

Shortly after all this came out, she finally packed up and left.  Moved to be with some man she had not known long.  There was nothing to it, she was gone.  For awhile after she left, she tried to contact us but I think once we got use to the chaos being out of our lives, we started to enjoy it.  There was no more guilt being put on us, no more blame, no more mental/emotional/physical abuse.  It was a like a breath of fresh air.  She has never met but one of her 6 grandchildren.  She has attempted to contact us through Facebook but we continue to block her.  She still in her mind thinks that she has done nothing wrong.  She is our mother and we should be grateful for that. 

There are a million things I think a Mother should be.  She has none of them.  Over the years I have forgiven her.  However, I don't have to forget and I don't have to have a relationship with her.  As for my siblings, they do not have a relationship with her either.  At least not that I am aware of. 

So you see.......

I can say I am proud of myself and the mother I have become.  Am I perfect, hell no!  Do I have a lot to learn?  Absolutely!  Do I love my children unconditionally?  You have no idea!  They melt my heart and are by far are my most prized possessions!  Okay, they are not really possessions but you get the point.  They are handsome, smart, funny and loving.  I think they see me as a "good" Mom.  The thought of ever leaving my children behind makes me sick.  I don't know what I will do when they are both gone from home.

Thank you.....

Yes, I thank her for being the mother she was.  Why?  Without her lack of motherly skills, I probably wouldn't strive as much to be the Mom I am today.  Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't.  I probably love too much, I probably overwhelm them with my worry that something will happen to them, I probably am too protective but one thing I am not is a bad role model for those two boys I love so dearly.  I can only hope that no matter the storm, they believe in me and believe that they are my heart and soul.

I love you with every ounce of my soul Dayne Alan and Jaxin Austin.  You are my world!

Sorry for the long post.  Sometimes my heart just overflows and spills out.  I want to write a book so bad but I have no idea where to start.  If any of you know how to get started with that, please let me know.  I am super serious about this by the way.

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