When my husband asked me what I’d like for Mother’s Day my mind drew a blank. A simple girl I’m not one to yearn physical non-practical items. I thought about it, thought a bit more and came to the conclusion that he can’t give me what I need. Not because he’s not willing or able but because this Mother’s Day I want nothing more than to forgive my mother.
See, about a month ago we crossed paths. Going into the situation I knew that could be a possibility; the good outweighed the bad and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I was neutral - a word my husband taught me to hate early on - a very effective state in staying calm, unpretentious. I listened, when she twisted my insides with her lies I didn't bat a lash; when she left I let her know that I loved her despite our lack of affection. When I left that night I was hurt, more so I felt sorry for her losses. That night I told my husband; a week or so later I told my father about the incident. While I didn't want to illuminate the events I could not hold them to myself. Hurt, I was swimming in hurt. After 27 years she’s still lying to me about who my father is, something that should have never been in question considering my father has been there since I was born.
This Mother’s Day i’d like to forgive.
To forgive her for the feelings of not-enough, forgive her for leaving me lost in the throes of motherhood. To thank her for knocking me down, for the chance to find inner strength and for leaving home so soon (thank god I didn't marry that clown or get knocked up). I forgive you for not protecting me, that creep didn't get far with me - I’m not so sure she can forgive you (once is chance, twice - you might as well be the predator). I forgive you for not setting an example for relationships. I’m thankful for your stubbornness. I forgive you for not understanding mental illness - for not taking it seriously. That year you provided my insurance, I am immensely grateful. Unknowingly you gave me the greatest gift with the worst outcome for you. I’m thankful you know how to put up a fight; I know when to choose my battles and when to walk away. I forgive you for your hurtfulness (encouraging me not to go to college, because you couldn't afford it). I forgive you for screwing over the good guy and chasing after abusive men. I forgive you for not trying to be a better mother and instead forcing me to mother your children at the ripe age of 8. I’m thankful I learned what not to do; thankful it set my standards for motherhood. I forgive you for forcing religion on me - a simple dose of believing in yourself would of sufficed. I forgive you for only being there for me when it was convenient. Lastly I forgive you for completely screwing over my self of sense for 23 years. That’s how long it really took me to figure out my father is indeed my father. Twenty-seven years later you’re still screwing me over. I forgive you because you’re sick, not sick with the tumor but mentally sick. I forgive you, I can still love you because you are my mother - that’s it, this is my letting go.
In letting go you’re still here. I still see you in the mirror, hear your laughter in mine. Fear I’m not a good enough mother - fear I’m like you. Fear that once again my husband will connect your past with mine - try convincing him I’m not going anywhere, not cheating. And then there’s my precious little boy, from day one I knew what I had to do, there was no doubt about it. That may make me a liar but he deserves so much more, you were just cruel.
But I forgive you.
