Simply put, I come from a tainted gene pool; the very small group of them that I do know and know of are all sick and twisted undividuals, riddled with a whole range of physical and mental diseases and disorders. If I’m being completely honest, my mom is the root of most of my biggest struggles, even still today. I’ve written about it briefly in other posts, but things have happened between us that have made therapists themselves cry.
We still have a relationship currently, not a healthy one by any means, but the only reason for that, despite my many attempts and resolutions, she’s good to my daughter. Essentially every time we’re in a room together, there is some type of disagreement at the very least, and while I do accept that I’m easily baited, it doesn’t get easier with age like I hoped it would. She thinks she can still dismiss and disrespect me and that just by being nice to my daughter, that makes it all okay.
She’s the reason so many of my relationships have either blown up or ended with me feeling broken. The only silver lining I’ve been able to find after all this time is just knowing that I’ll be the exact opposite as her, that my daughter will never feel demeaned and worthless in my eyes. I’ve said this to her face multiple times and she doesn’t even try to defend herself, but why won’t she even attempt a sincere apology?
There are moments in life that never leave us, ones that molded, defined, and deeply affected who we would after become. Addressing those issues with her generally results in either her claiming it never happened, that I made it up, and acting as though she has the right to be offended for being confronted on her own actions. How do I reach a point where I’m not enraged and outraged by her response, even though I know that’s what’ll happen?
I have an older brother that I will most likely never have the chance to meet, he was given up for adoption by my mom in 1988 when he was 10 months old. He was born in Puerto Rico and I would later find out that my mom never even filled out paperwork with the family he was taken in by, and it kills me that I don’t have enough information to locate him.
I’ve spent many hours since finding out about him when I was around 10 just hoping that he had an amazing life full of love and joy, hoping that at least maybe my suffering can hurt a little less knowing he didn’t have to suffer through it. I’ve daydreamed for days on end about what it might have been like to have an older brother around to protect and guide me. I hope I find you some day.