I know she wanted a child or possibly even children — but I’m not sure that she got what she bargained for when she married.
You see, my dad was an alcoholic. Possibly not the raging one that he became later in life, but she had to have known, being a medical professional, that this was a huge red flag.
My sister was born seven years before my brother, and then I came along thirteen months later.
I felt that my father ensured that my mother wouldn’t work by tying her down with several children.
When I was three, she put my brother and me into a private nursery school and returned to work. It was her workaround to go back to her beloved profession and independence. Suddenly, my brother and I were removed from school and taken away from our home. It was a thrill for us to ride on an airplane, but we had no idea what was happening. We arrived at grandma’s (in another state) to force my mother back into the home.
The tumultous years
The chaos that ensued throughout my childhood caused severe learning problems, not just for me but also for all of us. My brother, by far, was the smartest, but he had such mental health issues throughout his life that he never channeled his intelligence properly into meaningful work or relationships. He continually fought authority figures and was belligerent to his family and friends throughout his adult years. My sister became increasingly narcissistic throughout her life, choosing men who created so much disfunction in her life that she was always in a constant state of drama.
I, too, chose the wrong partner, yes, a drunk, and the effects on myself and my children have lingered to this day.
Learning from our mistakes
Addiction being the center of any family life has disastrous effects. We weave these threads until the realization comes, often too late, that help from others is the only way to resolve these issues.
Back to my mother, my relationship with her was sometimes superficial. While she wanted to be a good mother, she struggled. She had a cold effect which gave me the feeling that I could never confide in her.
When I tried to tell her about the abuse that was happening to me at the age of 10, she shut me down. She knew she had no power in her marital relationship and that any efforts to help me would not succeed. I learned early on. I had no one to protect me.
Did I overreact?
As a mother myself, I was hyper-vigilant with my daughter, that no one would violate her, and of course, she later informed me that that did more to hurt her, as she was always in a state of fear the unthinkable would happen.
While I had my ups and downs in my life due to depression and anxiety, I tried my best not to make the same mistakes my mother had made with me. But the lack of a good role model can leave some people feeling abandoned.
I feel I was always lost.
I know we are the product of our upbringing, and while this can sometimes substitute as a cop-out for failures, sometimes I feel that being behind the eight ball growing up served as an absolute ball and chain on me from moving forward in my life.
Seeking help is an answer
While I always strive to learn from others, I wished I had invested in therapy early and just kept going. I was in and out of counseling, but if I could have been consistent, it may have saved what little sanity I found in my life.
Pictures of moments with my mom always bring me joy. Remembering the fun times we shared and experiences we went through will serve as lasting comforts.
I got the mother I needed, not the mother I wished I had.
I continue to learn many lessons, but I am thankful that I thrived and flourished in my life because of having had the love only she could give me.
