This is Week 7 of Thankfulness Thursdays.  Through Thanksgiving, I will be posting once a week about something/someone(s) I am thankful for.  This is a link-up with Ashley from Domestic Fashionista.

"You cannot control what happens to you, but you can control your attitude toward what happens to you, and in that, you will be mastering change rather than allowing it to master you." - Brian Tracy

I've been putting off this post for a while, thinking and rethinking about writing it at all.  I've constantly second-guessed myself while staring at the computer screen.  But I want to be honest, and mostly open, about this topic without making it a scathing attack on anyone or even a negative critique.  Plus, it's for Thankfulness Thursday.  It's supposed to be a positive post about seeing the light in the dark. 

So this week, I'm thankful for self-awareness, or maybe personal growth, or maybe the knowledge to know better than my feelings.  All of the above.


My mom wasn't always the way she is now.  When my brother and I were little, I remember her presence with us during the day.  I remember playing on the trampoline, playing with our dog, going on outings to the beach or zoo or what not.  She'd make our costumes for Halloween or school performances.  She'd go all out as the Tooth Fairy, sparkling up dollar bills with glitter.  She did things like that when we were little and it was wonderful.  Those memories are some of my most positive childhood memories.  We moved around a lot and I was painfully shy, so it was hard for me to make friends.  I was always "The Fat Girl" and was made fun of constantly.  So the joy in my childhood memories comes from these special things my mom did for us, places we went, family get-togethers and holidays.

Then something changed.  Maybe it was that my parents' relationship got worse.  But long before the nightly fights started between them, my mom began to treat me differently.  She became a very angry and hateful person.  Suddenly, nothing I did was ever good enough.  The way I looked was suddenly disgusting to her.  She'd pick apart every aspect of my appearance.  Instead of looking in my eyes when we had a conversation, she'd be looking all over my face for imperfections: zits, blackheads, blemishes, stray hairs, etc.  I was constantly reminded of what she saw as imperfections and flaws when it came to me.  I don't know if she had planned to live vicariously through me since she didn't have a great childhood.  I always felt she wished I was this perfect, popular, beautiful daughter so she could feel better about herself.  When I turned out to be the fat, shy, smart-type, things just went downhill.

It was easier for me to stay hidden in my room instead of putting myself in the line of her constant insults.  Typically, my weight was the issue.  I was an "elephant, a pig, lumpy, slow, lazy, etc."  My childhood dreams of meeting the New Kids On The Block and moving to Boston were "pathetic ideas because no one cared about [me]" and "I would never make it to Boston".  (I did move to Boston on my own, but she never acknowledged that I made it happen for myself.  If you've followed me for a while you may also know that meeting the New Kids got checked off my list.)

In fact, many of the issues I have with my mom (and have tried on multiple occasions to talk about with her, to hash things out), she will deny.  She denies calling me names.  She calls me a liar when I tell her how things she said hurt my feelings.  I had regrets with things I didn't get to say to my dad because of all her manipulating of me not to talk to him.  When I found out he died, she said "Good riddance to bad rubbish" right in front of me.  She was mad I wanted to go to his funeral and told me the plane ticket was my "birthday present and graduation gift in one, so [I] better have fun."  She talked about how much she hated my dad and would then turn around and tell me that I reminded her of him.  How is one supposed to take that??  That kind of crap sticks with you no matter how hard you try to forget.

I have tried so hard to sort out our issues, but every time I am rejected and denied and called a liar, amongst other choice names.  The last time I tried to reason with her was last October.  I was so honest and open about things from the past that really hurt me.  I told her how much I wanted to work things out with her, that I wanted her in my life as my mother, that I needed her to understand my feelings and acknowledge these things.  I reminded her that she is my only living parent.  It was my sincere hope that spelling these things out to her and telling her exactly what I want from her (a loving relationship, a clean slate) would result in a long, heart-to-heart conversation that would end in tears and hugs and a renewed sense of hope.  You know, like in the movies.  lol

I spilled my guts to her about things I had been holding in for fear she would be mad at me.  I worked so hard on this email, to say things right and to get my point across.  These were tough subjects and none of it was to be taken lightly.  And she told me to "get over it" and then called me a liar and said it was all false.  Then she told me that I had my husband's parents to be around and she had no desire to be a part of my life.  And that was pretty much the last time I heard from her.  She lives about 40 minutes away, but refuses to call me or my brother.  She couldn't even be bothered to converse with me when I left her a voicemail that my father-in-law was diagnosed with leukemia.  She never bothered to say anything to us when he passed away either.

I don't always think about her or the things she has said to me when all is quiet.  I don't always stew on her harsh words or lack of love for me or my brother.  But now and then, I do think about it.  Sometimes it is a pity party because it is hard for me to mourn the loss of her when she is so close and just refuses to be a decent human being.  I think about what else I could say to make her understand, or what else I could do to change things.

But the thing that I've realized, the thing that I am thankful for finally figuring out, is that it isn't me.  It isn't anything in me that is inherently wrong or bad.  It isn't me that isn't good enough.  It isn't me that did anything wrong by merely existing or being a by-product of her relationship with my dad.  I've been fortunate enough to have wonderful friends and other family members around me who have helped me see all the good in me.  They have encouraged me and supported me when I needed it most.  They have helped heal my spirit when I was so beaten down and unhappy.

I've realized that my mother is a sad, hateful person. And mostly, she hates herself.  I may never know all the reasons, and at this point, I may never get answers or be able to help her.  But I know that her angst for me can't even come close to how bad she feels about herself.  It makes me sad.  It hurts my heart.  I just can't help her if she doesn't even want to help herself, or acknowledge reality.

I can't say I have overcome it all yet.  It is still a constant struggle to deal with the issues and feelings I have in regards to my relationship with my mom and how she has treated me.

Somehow, despite everything, I turned out to be a strong, intelligent woman who values myself.  I don't hinge my self-esteem on attention from the opposite sex.  I turned out to be someone that is open and honest.  I'm someone who helps people because it is the right thing to do, not because it will bring attention or fortune of some kind to me.  I'm not fickle, not hateful, and not miserable or jealous of the happiness of others.

Somehow I turned out to be the complete opposite of my mother.  And I'll always be thankful for that.