Sometimes I think about my relationship with my mom. And I think about how much I miss my dad. And I don’t understand how I got to where I am now.

I honestly believe my dad wanted me more than anything. And he did all he can for me. Even though we fought all the time. But we have the same personality. We both want to be right. But that didn’t stop us from loving eachother. And I realize that now. Not knowing that when he was alive. He just didn’t want me to end up like him.
But my mom. I don’t know. I thought I used to. But the past few years made me think differently, and I think I’ve figured it out.

I don’t believe she was ready to be a mother. She was 23 when she had me. Has been living in this country for a couple years only. My dad was 32. He was ready to have a child. And when they got pregnant with me, I think my mom ended up being trapt. Not like she was being held hostage, but by love. My mom is one of those people who falls in love with anyone who gives her the time of day. So she stayed. She had to. Especially with me.
So, she did what she could for the next ten years. She was my best friend. And I always loved her more than my dad. But that’s because I didn’t understand.
After he died though, I was abandoned. She wasn’t ready for a life of the single parent. And yes, I was pretty independent at the time, it doesn’t excuse her for leaving. Not physically. She left emotionally. She didn’t step up to the plate like she should’ve.
I guess I’m being a little unfair. But she wasn’t the parent I needed her to be. Yes, I let her slide. I told her I could handle myself. She took it as, “okay. I don’t need to try anymore.”
So she did the bare minimum she could’ve to keep us afloat. Let me live the life I was expecting. She should’ve explained to me that she couldn’t do it anymore. But no. She said no to the other things that mattered to me. Like joining clubs to make friends. Or trying to build my self-esteem. I came home crying every single day. And went to bed crying. How do you not step up as a parent? And sending them to a shrink is not the solution. Even then. The shrinks blamed me for being upset with her. Not her actions and decisions. Not her decisions that affected me. I was supposed to accept that she ripped me away from my friends? From the place I grew up? From the house that my dad made a home? And accept that she moved on three months later after my dad died?
No. But I did. And I regret it.

Honestly, I don’t think she loved me as much as she could. I think she loved me as much as she can. As much as she can without hurting herself.
And now that I’m older, I’m realizing this. And it makes me resent her more and more.
The worst part? Now that I’m gone, she’s even more miserable than before. And I feel bad for leaving her. But she’s so codependent, I can’t handle it anymore. And I can’t wait to really be on my own, without her in my life.

She made her bed, now she must lay in it. And in the process, she lost the only thing that could’ve helped her.

Posted 1 year ago
Tagged with #personal #family issues