Saturday, October 27, 2012

To my birth mother.

She was never for me anyway, and I still can’t comprehend why she decided to enter my life.
It’s not like she really cared, or did she?
She waits till I’m practically an adult to show any feeling or remorse.
I know she loves me and that’s a fact.
Not a solitary micro thought in my head doubts her love for me.
She just doesn’t know how to show her love.
I never truly knew her, my mother that is.
My conception isn’t a romantic tale how my parents met and fell in love.
It was a teenage romance, with a regrettable accident.
Two lust-stricken teens had sex, and had me.
My “birth” father was never around, and nor do I care too much.
It would be a complete lie if I said I didn’t want to meet him.
The story of how the teen romance ended isn’t really quite sure.
I have to depict from lies and truths, but I have so many I don’t even know.
My mother couldn’t take care of me when I was a baby.
Rumor is she didn’t want to and her boyfriend, my step dad, didn’t want her to have me.
Rumor also is that I was severely mal-nourished, and that I believe.
I lived with my grandmother for the time being, but that is another place, time and story.
First day of 8th grade was the best day ever, till I got home.
Now, my grandmother had asked me many times if I wanted to ever talk to my mother again.
I would always reply “No”.
It wasn’t till that day she said she had been talking to my mother again.
My heart sank.
My heart sped up like a speeding horse in a race.
It was different now, this time my mother decided she wanted me in her life.
I thought I was ready for it too, but I was wrong.
Mentally I wasn’t ready for the mother-daughter commitment I was getting myself into.
But rejecting my mother would have been foolish, but smart.
I didn’t stay away and ten months later I saw her.
Oh, god was I in for a rude awakening.
They seemed to be the happiest family.
That’s all that matter.
Plus, seeing my siblings was the best part.
I remember my sister and littlest brother waiting and then running to me when I first arrived.
One of the greatest feelings ever.
I caught my mother of guard; she had just gotten out of the shower, and had no clue who I was.
I guess I looked different then the 5 or 6 years since she saw me last.
The summer was immense, that same summer my grandmother and I gotten into a fight.
I asked to live with my mother and she accepted the idea.
Though the events leading up this point shows it was all for a boy, which definitely helped the situation.
It wasn’t all about him.
I did realize how much I missed my siblings and my mother even more.
I figured it was time to patch things up.
I will never forgive my mother for abandoning me like she did.
Being a mother is hard, I understand that.
Especially with no significant other, and then having a boyfriend, who I understand, hated me.
Then she added to her pot by having more kids, and giving one up.
I still think of it as she gave two up.
I included in that.
What made her choose to give up one but not the other, which I will never understand.
My biggest peeve is why run to drugs?
I know drugs and their affects.
They pull you in and twist your thoughts around.
They feed on your every desire and fears.
It’s like taking candy from a baby; you are the baby, and the drugs are taking your candy and they are the candy.
A baby will scream bloody murder for their candy back once they get it back they are fine.
Drugs are candy, and who doesn’t ever crave candy?
But drugs do damage that is never able to be fixed.
My mother will never be the same.
Though her mental troubles do not help.
They only feed the drugs more of a chance to get in.
I know my mother is a caring, loving, and focused person.
She wants the best for all her children.
She would never show it though.
Children like hugs, and kisses, and to be told they are loved.
Asking my mother for that is like stabbing her in the head with a machete.
Her past is questionable.
I’ve never been quite sure about what happened in her past, and I assume I never will.
Too many stories to know what’s fiction or non-fiction.
Kind of like a scary movie about a real haunted house, you never know what’s real or not.
One thing that will always sit on my mind is it’s not till you were at your lowest point, until I was at my lowest point ready to take the plunge of my life did she show feeling.
She would always say “quit trying to scare me” “you're being stupid”, but when she found out I wasn’t kidding then it was “I'm sorry. I love you”.
Those were by far my most favorite moments with my mother.
The moments I will always cherish and use to remember her.
I would never be that low enough to need her again like that, but I will always keep those memories close to my heart.
She always figured buying little knick knacks here and there would be good enough to show her love.
I actually can remember her saying that should be good adequate amount of love.
I guess it was something.
Until she needed me for money.
I would never turn her down either.
She would need it I would give it to her.
I can still picture us fighting about it, a lot.
Screaming at the top of our lungs.
It was the only true pure passion we had for one another.
Fighting was what we did best.
If it was a subject in school, we would have gotten a triple A.
It’s sort of like a slow moving movie.
I play it slowly in my mind, the different fights.
The reasons.
No matter what, it always ended in tears or bruises.
The thing is I for ever and a day loved my mother.
She could have shot me with a Kalashnikov AK-47 and I still wouldn’t have hated her.
I would have never forgiven her, but I still would have loved her.
I say loved as past tense.
As at my point in my life I am not sure where she stands in my heart.
My three year relationship with my mother is none I would ever wish upon another person, period.
We have a complicated relationship.
A sort of love-hate relationship you hear about.
I do believe my mother, at times, wishes I was never born.
That I was the biggest mistake she has ever made.
My nose would grow long enough to wrap around this world if I said I didn’t, at times, regret moving here, and having her as a mother.
My nose would grow even longer if I said I wanted to be like her.
That’s the one hope I will always have.
To be nothing like her.
I don’t want to grow up, even more, hating my family for my mistakes, having a husband who doesn’t cherish me, having children whose every wish was to be away from me, and not loving life.
I would say I am proud of my mother from what she has tried to accomplish after getting sober.
I am proud of her effort at keeping a job, and being a hard worker like she is.
My mother is by far the smartest person without a high school education.
She just gets lost somewhere.
It hurts that our relationship had to be this way.
Maybe I’m to blame, or maybe we are the same.
This relationship to put simple is a guiltless twisted lie.
We both have lives to pursue, but it has to be separated.
I just need her to let me be free, please.
I’ve always had hoped to have a close relationship deep down, but I ignored those feelings for so long till she re-entered my happy life.
I will never know what happened to us.
What seemed to be a promising connection between mother and daughter after years separated.
I have to wonder what could have been.
I love my mother at times.
I can’t stand her the other times.
I know she loves me, and that’s a fact.
I just can never forgive her and never forget.

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