Here’s To Strong Women

I saw on Facebook, “Mothers that love their kids will never teach them to hate their father.” I don’t talk a lot about my dad on here just because in ways there isn’t much to talk about. He was an addict, like all of the people who took care of me, but he was never in control of his addiction like my mom and aunt. He would stay with us (Mom, Aunt Debbie, and me) but then when he would start doing drugs (or at least get caught) my mom would kick him out. It was a constant cycle until my mom died.

Mom never said negative about my dad, at least to me. When he was not living with us, she made it a priority that I have visits with him. The most common being Sunday mornings at Burger King, which to this day Burger King breakfast is my favorite. When he did have a place she did let me visit him there, well until I cut my hair which he didn’t notice until my mom came back to pick me up. I grew up doing all boy things with Dad like fishing, snake hunting, camping, video games, etc.

Once Aunt Debbie died, I started to remember more about Mom. Mom did everything in her part to protect me, whether it be from dad’s addiction or any of the other many addicts that came into our home to live.

These last few years I have discovered how messed up losing Mom made me, but the more I heal and process Mom’s death the more I become thankful for having a mom like her. In ways, I miss her more now than ever. Mom and Aunt Debbie had hard lives in different ways which contributed to how they responded to their trauma. Aunt Debbie grew up with their alcoholic mother which did incredible damage, where my mom lived with their grandmother (which wasn’t perfect but a more nurturing environment). Mom did lose her daughter and husband because of her drug addiction, which she mourned their deaths for the rest of her life. I think that pushed her to be the best mom she could be to me. Evaluating how Aunt Debbie took care of me in contrast to Mom was very different. Again their childhoods were incredibly different, and Aunt Debbie had way more hardships that ultimately gave her no chance to be a healthy and functioning person, especially once she got addicted to drugs.

Both of them loved me with all that they had, but they showed it differently.

I am thankful for a mom who loved me enough to give me the chance to know my dad. They had a complicated relationship, but mom did her best to give me the most “normal” childhood I could have with being born into the chaos that I was.

Mom knew how to work her illnesses to get her way. She could be manipulative that way, but she never did believe that her hardships were the best her life could be. I think that is why I push so much to keep going. Yes, a lot of terrible things have happened to me. Yes, I deal, daily, with the trauma and triggers that those things have given me. No, I am not just going to accept that. I still have a lot of areas that need healing, but like Mom, I am going to make the best out of what I’ve been given and not just accept it. That was the difference between Mom and Aunt Debbie. Aunt Debbie accepted it.

I am thankful that I was raised by some of the strongest and most loving women I know. They made me into who I like to think is also a strong and loving woman.