The Challenge

The Challenge of not letting my mother destroy me started at an early age. The crazy making moments of never knowing when my world would change to pain or be charged with sharp words. The fear of facing each day without knowing if she was going to be in a good mood or bad and the knowledge it could all change at the drop of a hat.

It’s not saying that I don’t have good memories of my mother along my journey because I do. It’s just saying I did grow up in an abusive past with a mother who has serious undiagnosed mental health problems. It took a long time to no longer blame her for the issues she caused in me. Years of therapy to help reverse or at least deal with the pain she passed along with her cruel words and actions.

I watched carefully, always with one eye or ear keeping watch on her whereabouts. Sometimes I could hear the blow coming or see it in her eyes and manage to duck away. It always made things worse but I did it anyway. The avoiding flinch was always uncontrollable. I never knew what sneaky hurtful thing she would do next. The abuse continued on into adulthood until I was finally strong enough to say no more.

I ran away a few times, trying to escape stinging hits that left deeply embedded purple marks and the horrible words that cut me deep into my soul. Words of how I ruined her life and how I would never look beautiful or amount to anything. The words always hurt worse than the actions and the running never stopped the pain in my heart or her voice in my head. I still hear it to this day. The struggle is to keep it at bay and not let it win.

It took me years to finally realize, blood is not thicker than water and it’s okay to get rid of those who abuse me. Regardless of the hurt, the pain of finally saying goodbye to my mother still hurt. The sadness that she could not love me as a mother should, hurts in wounds so deep they are left oozing, yet unhealed.

I still find myself lost at times, wondering if there was possibly another way. But when the doubt creeps back in and I hear her voice once again, I know I did the right thing. To be happy and healthy means being without her. So while I love her and miss her, I don’t miss the pain, the hurt, the lack of caring and the mean actions of selfishness. I don’t miss the not knowing if today will be a good day or bad based entirely on my mother’s whims.

Instead, life is how I make it. I am strong enough to do this without her because I am good enough and I am important and I do have the right to love and be loved. I get to choose and live up to the challenge because I am not letting my mother destroy me.


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