MOM

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Inside a niche I keep a scrapbook grayed of evenfalls
to muse upon the times a rambling girl bussed off to balls
and paper dolls cut out before each scheduled puppet show
while bloomed she from my mother to a child of long ago.

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You hear stories about mothers being disconnected from their children at birth.
Unfortunately and fortunately, I slid into the world with nothing but love to give and none to receive.

The older I get, the less it bothers me.
I like to reflect back on it to heal the trauma that I was forced into. Into a family with severe mental health issues, lovingly passed it down to me genetically. The only difference is that I’m aware of my thoughts and my mental health.

Mom. Mother. Beth.
Where do I begin? I knew that I was hated and doomed from the start. I couldn’t compare to my popular, perfect, athletic half sister. I am also my father’s daughter. My father’s twin.
They loathed eachother and my pure heart would always get into the middle of every single fight they went on for 13+ years.

I was told daily that I would never be anything. I was told daily that I would never be loved by anybody. I would come home from school and out of nowhere all my clothes were in trash bags. I was a kid being told I should only eat crackers because my body didn’t “fit in” with the other kids.

She didn’t care where I was, who I was with, the things I indulged in. I would hang out with older people. Leave the state for weeks at a time. Not even one phone call or text.  Experiencing things no one should ever experience. Speaking out about my assaults was never an option.

Forever scarred. Forever knowing that I could so easily forgive her but that apology never came and will never come. I’m at peace with that.

I made a promise to myself that when I become a mother, I would never be her. Heartless, soulless, and self absorbed.

Pregnant at 16. Scared shitless. I did it all on my own with no help from anybody, especially my mom. My mother. Beth. My child and i say “I love you” over 70+ times a day. I make sure he never goes hungry. I make sure he never doubts himself. I encourage him. I am his number one fan. I don’t think it’s possible to be more proud than I already am. Without him, my universe wouldn’t exist. It would be nothing but a suffocating black prism of hell.

A few years ago, I sat back and realized my mom, my mother, Beth has never once told me she loved me. She never pays any attention to me or my son. She doesn’t care enough to give us her time.

I will never be her. I hope one day she wakes up from her egotistical dream world, and realizes that her children and grandchildren are more important than meeting new guys and playing the lottery.

My son doesn’t even call her Gram, grandma, mama, mammie, or anything like that. On his own since he was about 3 or 4, he started calling her Beth. My intuitive child knew she isn’t worthy the amazing title of grandma.

I have so much love for mother’s. We are underestimated. We give our lives for our children. We give up our hopes and dreams, to make sure that our children have everything they want and need. Most importantly mothers, present mothers, have nothing but love for their children. I bow down to any mother who is a super hero to their children.

Best wishes and nothing but the best for the mothers that aren’t like that. Mom, mother, Beth. I send all the love, happiness, and good health towards you. Something that you’ve never sent to me or my child. We are full of love and happiness, and we have enough to share.

May you realize your wrongs
Own your mistakes
My home is always open to you

Many sleepless nights hearing you scream at me
Over thinking that i did something wrong
Time will eventually heal
Hurting others without a care in the world
Easy and sleezy
Running out of time

Being present only to get a photo opportunity
Eager to tell her how I really feel
Traumatized by the 7 million games you played
Hope you find what you’re looking for in this life

Mom. Mother. Beth.