HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

PART I

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY to everyone!!!!

First, I am sorry that I have been missing in blog land. I have been working through some hard times and I really haven’t felt like writing or keeping up with my favorite bloggers. There are some days that are just so hard to get through and then there are days when I am productive (watch for this post on what I’ve been doing to keep my mind occupied) and happy.

With Mother’s Day tomorrow I feel like I need to post something and I’ve been trying to figure out what I wanted to write about. I have decided to write about my own Mother’s.

If you have read some of my older posts you will have gotten a glimpse of my adopted Mother and the horrors I faced as a child. However, this year I choose to honor her. After all, she was my mother and we are taught to honor our Mother and Father. I haven’t always honored her and at so many times in my life hated her for the trauma she put me through. I’m not making excuses for her because what she did do was beyond horrible, but I do believe she deserves forgiveness, mercy and grace. After all, she too is a daughter of God.

Her parents were both older and I don’t believe they had good parenting skills, so she was never punished, had to do chores and got everything she ever asked for. She was never taught domestic habits, so when she married she expected to be waited on like her parents did on her. I can fairly say her married to my adopted Father was not good from the start and so there was a lot of contention in their home even before they adopted me.

When I came along they had been married for about 5 years and unable to have children of their own they adopted me. My AF (adopted father, it’s easier then typing it out all the time) worked full-time for Boeing in Seattle and my AM stayed at home, again being waited on like she was accustomed to. When I came along they were not prepared to be parents, literally. They didn’t have baby items bought or set-up. After they picked me up from the hospital they had to go and buy a bunch of things.

Her mother was not maternal at all, so my AM didn’t learn about love, emotion, compassion. She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body, so from the start she was ill equipped to be a mother. She was uncomfortable with feeding me (I have pictures of this), changing me and nurturing me. My AF did most of that when he was able, but for those 9 hours each day I was at her mercy.

One of the things she hated the most was that my AF doted on my every minute he could. After all, he was my main caregiver, but other than that he adored me. This fueled her anger even more on me and she was threatened by me, an itty bitty baby, because I was taking away his attention. She made his life miserable from sun up to sun down, constantly demanding attention and doing all the household chores. She didn’t know how to cook at all and so he also did all the cooking.

Well, she decided that she wanted to adopt another baby, this time a boy, which they did 3 years after I was born. Now, this time she was a totally different mother to him than she was to me. She still didn’t take care of him, but he was given every single thing he ever wanted, even up to her death in 1989. She made it her quest to build a monster, which he was until he matured in his late 20’s.

Anyway, the years went along and they finally divorced in 1973, I was 9. This is when the substantial abuse started for me. After my AF was gone, I then became the care provider for the home and family. She was forced to work now that my AF was gone, so it was my responsibility to maintain the home, cook and watch after my AB. Not long after my AF left the sexual abuse started. She needed someone to take care of her sexual needs so sex school began in our home and unless we mastered the techniques she was teaching us we had to do it over and over and over. Not long after that men were brought home for me to earn extra money for the home.

My life went on like this until the age of 13 when I basically had total breakdown and then went to live with my AF and his new wife. I stayed with them for about a year and only went back to my dungeon because I was promised a car. What teenager wouldn’t go for that? This was the only time in my life that she promised me something and actually delivered. She, of course, needed me back to take care of her and the home. I didn’t see that part of it though.

The abuse was going to start again, but I was stronger now and when she went to do something to me I stabbed her with a pair of scissors. She never touched me again after that, but I was still the domestic goddess in the home. If she needed care or my AB needed care I stayed home from school to take care of them. One time she had to have surgery and I was kept home from school for 2 weeks to take care of her.


So, fast forward to today. I am almost 45 and I have not a single thread of hatred towards this women. I see her as a very sick (she had tried to kill herself several times), lonely person. She didn’t know what to do, she could have tried, but she didn’t have that strength inside her. To me her life was such a pitiful existence. When she died in 1989 I had the responsibility to clean up after her for the last time and as I was cleaning out her apartment I found her journals. I took them home and then read then late in the night with a fire burning and read the honesty she only admitted in private. There I learned that she did truly love me, but she didn’t know how to show it. She was proud of me, for the mother I became. She wrote about my AB and how she had created a monster and didn’t know how to handle him except to give him what he wanted. She felt that was easier. She struggled with the knowledge that he was favored and I lacked so much in all aspects. She had so many regrets and was heartbroken.

I burned each and every one of those journals. My way of letting go of the past and as I read her handwriting I developed a sense of peace and forgiveness. Today, I hold not a single ounce of hatred toward her. I don’t have much respect or love for her, but I have forgiven her. It was crucial in my own survival. I can forgive her because I know that she has been forgiven by our Heavenly Father. I believe that we can’t progress or let go of the past if we don’t forgive ourselves and those that have hurt us.

She was my mother for 25 years and yes I am grateful. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to find things to be grateful for, but there are some things. Like, I’m thankful I was potty trained. I’m thankful that we din’t move around. We lived in the same place until I left home at 17. I’m thankful for all the hours she ‘watched’ me at the pool in our trailer park. You had to be over 14 to swim without someone ‘watching’ you. I’m grateful that she allowed me to have a cat, she was my best friend (the cat that is). I’m grateful for the times she would play with my hair, I loved that. I’m thankful that I had clothes to wear. I’m thankful for birthday parties and Christmas presents. I am SO thankful for the 8 years she had me in gymnastics and other dance classes that was a huge escape for me. I am thankful for piano lessons and a piano to pound my sorrows away on.

Lastly, I am eternally grateful that she took me to church. Sometimes it was sporadic, but she did take me most of the time. Without her willingness to go to church I would not have the gospel in my life. I wouldn’t have that ability to forgive. I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to learn and love the Lord. I wouldn’t have had good young women’s leaders to love me and nurture me, one such woman was a Godsend to me. Without the church I wouldn’t have my children sealed to me for eternity, something I hold on dearly during my current heartache. Without her taking me to church I would have my loving husband with me for eternity. This she gave me. When all is said and done, she did give me the best gift of all. She gave me eternal happiness. So, on this Mother’s Day weekend I want to send a heavenly thank you to you Mom for giving me such a wonderful gift.

Watch for Part II tomorrow.
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The picture of me washing the dishes was at age 6 and the Thanksgiving dinner was the first Thanksgiving dinner I did myself at the age of 14.