A mother’s duty
It is an early Thursday morning; I have been awake for a couple of hours. Insomnia has taken hold again.
I keep having these thoughts about my mother, it started on August 20th, five days ago; it was her birthday. She turned 73 years old.
I briefly thought about calling and trying to hash everything out with her, but I did not.
I had to step back and remember the reason I have pushed them out of my life; their behavior and the mistrust I have in them. They do not value anything about me or my family. They were manipulative my whole life. I was mistreated by them, and they never believed they did anything wrong. It was a toxic family dynamic. It was not in line with my own beliefs, life purpose, or direction.
The reason I wanted to talk to her was about the online relationship and how it was going, how happy it has made me. Such a simple thing but it means so much to me, and I wanted to share that with her. Any daughter would want to share that with her mother.
Yet, I knew the moment I even mention anything about a relationship, it would automatically be compared to my sister’s current relationship status. I have had this same comparison thrown at me my whole life when anything good happened.
A mother is supposed to be a child’s trusted confidant, especially a daughter. A mother’s duty is to her children, to raise them, care for them, protect them, and support them. It is a basic instinct to nurture others though there are people that do not have that capacity.
That instinct was not so with my mother. Every instance when there was something going good in my life or the lives of my children, she made it about her or tried to take credit for it. When I was hurt, being abused, or being bullied as a kid, she ignored it or blamed me for it. During her drunken stupors, she would blame me for messing up her life by being born.
Then as I got older, she developed this sense of entitlement. She believed that “I owed her my life because she gave birth to me.” Those were words from her on my 40th birthday. It was all so tragic and messed up.
It played so much into my own thoughts as a mother that I tried to be the opposite of her. I became so overprotective of my own children and pushed them to do their best. That has had its own ramifications. My children feel like that I pushed them too hard sometimes.
A mother has the most important job on this planet, raising another human being.
Being a mother at the beginning was a scary thought and I really did not think that I could be a good one. I knew that I had so many issues within myself that I was afraid to mess up my own kid.
I tried to give them the best possible life and start into adulthood. There is currently debate among them whether that was true. They cannot see past my lowest point with the depression, it was traumatic for them. I understand this and I am giving them room to work out those feelings.
As a parent, it may be a struggle, financially and emotionally. It all plays into how your own parents raised you, especially for the traditional role as a mother. The mother is supposed to be the grounding support system in a family. If that support system is weak then it may not withstand any of life’s more challenging moments.
In the situation concerning my mother, she was the youngest of ten children. She did not have a consistent female presence in her life. My grandmother by that time was politically active within our tribal government, traveling all the time, and my mother’s sisters were grown or married. By the time she became a teenager, she was attending an Indigenous residential boarding school. Then into early adulthood, she made mistakes hanging around the wrong group of people and became a single mother.
She was not mature enough to manage that responsibility of being a single parent, so she latched on to the first person she found, her current husband. He has been abusive physically, emotionally, and verbally towards her their whole life and marriage. It is the reason, per conversations with my aunts later in my adult life, they had not included her in things or stayed connected. They did not like how he treated her. I do not believe she knows that, and it is too late now to rectify any of that, she only has two sisters left.
All these things that I know about my mother made me want to be more understanding of her. It made me want to try and be amicable with her and form a sort of friendship, but her true colors would always show. She is manipulative, dramatic, racist, and vindictive. I could never form a true bond with her.
She made me sad and unhappy during my life, never believing that she did anything wrong. I spent 42 years of my life waiting for any sort of apology, remorsefulness, regret, anything to show that she truly or honestly cared about me and my well-being. It never happened. There were always strings attached to anything that she did for anyone.
All I can hope for, now that I have removed them from my life, is peace of mind. A change to how I feel about them that makes things bearable. The ability to find forgiveness to be completely free of them.
Thank you so much for stopping by.
Have a wonderful week!
Peace, love, happiness, and good vibes, always.