I am not my mother!

Several years ago, I intensely disliked my Mom and the way she treated my brother and I when we were growing up. I wanted to shove the truth of the way I grew up into my relatives’ faces and ask them why they allowed her to mistreat us so much. Mother’s day is never an easy day for me. I still feel guilt about being angry at my Mom, but I am beginning to realize that she parented us the only way she knew how – with anger and meanness and bullying.During the past few months, not only have I been struggling with health issues (I threw out my back and then had bronchitis for 5 weeks), I have also been battling understanding and forgiving my Mom. MY brother and I have been playing amateur therapist with each other (the only kind we can afford) and we  have been slowly unlocking some long buried issues for the both of us. I have taken the step that I am writing my remaining relatives and asking them about childhood memories, starting off with easy questions and then I will move on to the harder questions. Each Mother’s day, I grieve for my Mom. Not because I miss her terribly, although sometimes I do miss her, but because I wish we had been able to have a better relationship. I have accepted that because Mom was such a “bad mother” to me, that I was determined to be the best Mom I could possibly be to my children, and by association, their friends who call me “Da Mamma”. I joke that I have 2 biological children and 15 or so “heart” children scattered all over the world!During the past year, when I have driven up to see my daughter, I have stopped at this little general store/visitor site and repeated what I did the first time I stopped there. There was an old crank telephone just like we used to have when I was growing up  and on a whim, I “called” my Mom to tell her I love her and that I missed her and that I wanted to just get on with my life. I have since repeated that stop several times and each time I drive back home, I sit in the campground area and look towards the mountains to a patch of land that could easily be my childhood home. And since I have been doing this, I have begun to loosen my anger towards my Mom.I have also realized that while my Mom and I share many traits, I am not my Mother. I believe now that she suffered from serious depression, possibly even bipolar disease. She refused to change  her diet or her habits and she refused to take her medicines. And so, she died from a heart attack/stroke when she was only 63. My son has only a small memory of her and my daughter never knew her. And while I may do things the hard way, I AM trying to change. I AM being more careful about what I eat and drink and I AM trying to take better care of myself. I am not doing as well as I would like, but I AM making progress.So, for this Mother’s Day, I am giving myself the gift of good health, of taking good care of myself, of being the best me I know how to be. I AM not my Mother, and I will not continue to beat myself up for the similiarities

One Response to “I am not my mother!”

  1. I so understand what you mean when you talk about your relationship with your mom. Mine was much the same. My mom passed away hating me so deeply that she refused to see me, my children, and never even met our youngest son (who is now 6). You are not alone in this. I am so glad that you have your brother. You will be able to be there for each other as you journey through all of this.
    I am so glad you are giving yourself the gift of good health. You are worth the effort it takes to be healthy and happy.
    God bless!

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