Sunday, May 3, 2015

My mother is the devil

Ever since I can remember it was usually just my dad, sister and I. My mother would come and live with us occasionally. Although, It was always temporary. I don’t know where she would go or what she did, later though I was told she went to rehab a couple times but ended up just doing more drugs and alcohol. That’s really all that consumed her and all she cared about. She’s not all bad though, she has good parts to her too. You will soon see just how my mothers irrational, manipulative and psychotic behavior affects my everyday thinking.
    To understand just how my absent parent affects my thinking, you will need to know who she is and the history behind me. My mother is someone who loves to go shopping; thrifting, garage sales, and antiquing. She loves old things that has a history to them. She was witty and funny. She loved to have family game nights; playing cards, or playing monopoly. She had a lot of great traits in her but she is also someone who can be your best friend, make you feel loved in the way you’re supposed to be. Then one day she just wipes herself off the planet, never to call or text for months on end. She is a person who can bring you down just to lift you back up again. I love my mother a lot for all the good things she was but I hate her for all the evil she has in her.
    My mother and my father were together until I was about 7 years old. We lived in this huge blue house and we had a wood picket fence. I shared a room with my older sister, Olivia and we had bunk beds but I can’t remember what color or what they looked like. I do remember we had these swings in our backyard and we would try to swing so high up so we could grab these berries from a tree. They were really good and I was addicted to them as a child. The backyard was huge, but everything as a kid was pretty big. We had this pathway on the side of our driveway near our garage which was surrounded by small trees. On the pathway we had our footprints, our names and some jewels embedded in the concrete. My older sister, Nicole, which is our mothers daughter lived with us too. She was one of those angry teenagers you see on TV who ate pizza and hid it under their beds. Her room was always messy. Nicole and my mom fought a lot. I never understood why until later. I’ve been told of all the horrors my mother put Nicole through. One of which was prostitution for drug money.
My mother always locked herself in this small room which contained a desk, chair and a computer. The walls were white and the door was one of those wood ones that slide from side to side. She was in there almost all the time. When she wasn’t, she was smoking outside, going over to the neighbors to get wasted or yelling. Once my parents split up, they lived in different houses and I would be at one house for a week and the other house for a week. It was pretty calm although my dad looked like he was under a lot of stress. Through all of this, I was a really happy kid. I would play outside a lot with my sister or some kids on my street. I just was a really happy kid probably because I never knew what went on wasn’t normal.
It’s when my mother moved in with her boyfriend, Bryan when things started to swirl out of control. She had a couple boyfriends though. One of them was really nice but she only used him for his money. The other one, Bryan was decent unless you pissed him off. Which seemed like a lot of the time. They fought a lot whenever we were over there. He would hit her sometimes when we were “sleeping” and she would just cry out. My mother liked to play games on him almost like she wanted to be abused. She would always involve us in it. One time she had us put her cigarette in his beer and then we got kicked out and our dad had to come pick us up. Another time we went out and bought this huge bra and put it so it was sticking out of this trunk. He went to work without realizing it and he was super mad. The biggest event that I can remember is when we went on vacation with Bryan, Ann (my mother), Bryan’s daughter, Olivia and I. We went to Florida and Bryan ended up getting arrested for domestic abuse. The next day my mother bailed him out. The scariest thing was how unstable my mother was. She would rock in the corner on the balcony crying and repeat “he’s coming and he’s going to kill us.”. As a 9 year old child, that’s pretty scary although I seemed to handle everything well.
Around the time I became a teenager my mother wasn’t around very much and it was just my dad, Olivia and I. We learned all the girl stuff alone or from the internet. Our dad took us shopping most of the time or Olivia would go with her friends. At that time I didn’t have any, mostly because my mothers absence consumed me and I was bullied a lot. So my dad took me. This was really hard for me, seeing that I had no idea what to do, what to wear or how to take care of myself. My dad had no clue either and there was no one but myself to teach. This affects my thinking a lot today, because I usually feel like I’m alone because that’s how I felt as a child. I know that I’m not alone because I know a couple of people who were put in similar situations.
I think the biggest thing that affects me would have to be the fact that my mother can’t or doesn’t love me. I’ll always wonder why that is. My dad says it’s because she’s a psychopath and isn’t capable of feeling. Everything my mother did to me affects me everyday. The absolute  worst thing I hated would be when she would get us really excited to do something with her and she would last minute blow us off like it was nothing. She did this often and today I don’t get excited for much. Another thing is, she pushed me to date, almost like if I didn’t I wouldn’t be accepted which I never really was in my family’s eyes. My dad always thought I needed to lose weight, do cheerleading like my sister, same with my mother’s parents. I’ve never really fit into my family and I’ve pretty much accepted it. My dad isn’t like this now though, it took him awhile to realize that I am not my sister, I am my own person and eventually he accepted me as who I am.
What’s difficult about not having a mom is seeing everyone around you with loving mothers, or when people ask you about your mom. That’s the absolute worst because you have to say, “Oh she didn’t love us enough to stick around” but in more of an appropriate way so you don’t make anyone uncomfortable. Nothing is worse than the feeling of not being good enough which is how it feels to be abandoned by your own parent. When my parents seperated eventually I came to know Christ which is my blanket and is the reason I’m not some kid who is on a hundred different medications and has a therapist two hours away, I always tried to share Christ with my mother but she always turned me down. She wouldn’t even let me go to church or drop me off. This was hard on me because I really just wanted my mom to feel the love I felt, to let go and not worry so hard about all the things we stress about daily. The hardest thing about it was the fact that one day she would die and when I would die I would be heaven, happy while my mother suffered in hell for the rest of eternity. Another difficult thing is when people try to talk to you about my mother. I don’t want to talk about it most the time, in fact I wrote this paper on Sunday, skipping the turn in date because I did not want to write this paper at all, it felt like a burden sitting on my shoulders for two weeks.
Being abandoned is difficult because you constantly feel the need to prove you’re good enough to people. I used to try to wear what was cool, or I would analyze how people would act and talk so I could act and talk like them too. For a really long time I tried to be someone I’m not but eventually I figured out that people would love me for who I am even if that person isn’t my own family. Every decision I make is exactly the opposite of what my mother would do. I purposely built myself this way. Every decision I make I think about, wondering if I drank if I would turn out like my mother since everyone in my family thought I will be which was before I figured out what I wanted in life, and who I am. Or I constantly would wonder if I drank if I would become an alcoholic, or if I did drugs if I would become a drug addict. Today, I rarely take any drugs or medications just to be careful I don’t depend on them to function like my mother does. I don’t know if today she has recovered or if she’s overcome her illness but i’m glad I don’t have to watch her destroy herself.
Overall, a mothers absence affects a person everyday whether they realize it or not. It not something you can get over it with a pound of ice cream and a hundred tissues. It sticks with you until the day you die. It affects every decision you make even if it’s not consciously made. You can overcome these feelings with positive people around you and healthy decision making.


  1. Your blog is grunge <3

  2. This is my life, not some theme on a blog to look cool.
    Thank you for your comment though, I love getting comments :)

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