Relationships
Happy Birthday, Mom!
Today is my mom’s birthday. I’ve pretty much hit the jackpot in the mom department, as much as I’ve stunk it up in the dad department. My mom is my best friend, my biggest fan, and someone I spend 90% of my time with. She’s an amazing woman so I thought I would share some memories I have of her.
Remembering…
- …the time when she walked into Sports Fan Attic during the holiday season to buy my brother a Michael Vick jersey. The only ones she saw were for the Atlanta Falcons but she knew my brother’s favorite team was the San Fransisco 49ers. Confused, she asked a worker if “there was a Michael Vick who played for the 49ers.” My brother and I still have not let my mom live this one down, and we constantly tease her about it.
- …the time when the three of us were playing “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth-Grader?” and she was asked the question: “What has a lot of sand, but very little water.” Her answer: a sandbox. (You can tell she taught preschool for a bajillion years! Also, she’s going to kill me for this getting out. Hehe.)
- …the time when the three of us were walking back to our apartment during the holiday season and saw a bunch of kids acting crazy with shopping carts. We were all annoyed, only to laugh hysterically when my mom burst out with: “I hope they spend Christmas in jail!” This is her best one-liner yet.
- …the time when the three of us had just moved into a condo, months after she left my dad. She was stressed over the move and dealing with a lot of other issues and my brother could be a bit of a pain. We were sitting down, eating dinner, and I’m not sure what was happening at the time, but I do remember my mom telling my brother, very calmly and patiently, “Mark, get in your room before I say something I regret.” Not 5 seconds later, she bursts out, “Mark, get your ass in your room.” (My mom does not curse and still gasps when something pops out of my mouth, which makes this all the more funny.)
- …the time when she made the hardest decision of her life: leaving my father. To this day, it’s the best decision she ever made. She has done so much in her life since divorcing him, while my dad has continued down a downward spiral.
- …the time when she received a hand-me-down, but beautiful, bedroom set which included a queen size bed with headboard and two nightstands. Not even thinking of herself, that she had been sleeping on a lumpy, daybed and could definitely use (and deserved!) a new bed, she gave it to me. She kept it as a surprise until I came home on Christmas break from college and I was shocked beyond belief. And she is still sleeping on that lumpy daybed.
- …the time when she completely changed her life, and managed to lose 80 pounds doing so. She sometimes gets down on herself because she still falls back on old habits and it’s not any easier now than it was 3 years ago, but she’s managed to keep most of it off, save 10 or so pounds. She’s such a different person than she was in 2006 and an inspiration to so many people. (She’s also the unofficial Weight Watchers expert at work. I told her she needed to start having meetings & charging her co-workers!)
- …the time when she decided to change careers. She was burned out from teaching preschool and needed a change. So she took action over her life and did it. She didn’t whine about how she hated her job and wanted something new. She did it. While I still think the preschool world lost an angel when she quit, she’s doing something she enjoys and is good at.
- …the time when I made the decision to change majors, even though I was 75% with my schooling to become an elementary school teacher. When I made the decision, I was scared about what my mom would say. I knew she would support me, but I also knew I was asking a lot out of her. And when I told her, I received nothing but love and support. She has never made me question my choice of switching majors, but has shown me it was the best decision for me.
- …the time(s) that she has pushed me, over and over again, to show me that I can do it. She has given me all the love she has in her heart, all the support she has, and all the dedication. Never once have I doubted she loves me. Never once have I doubted she would support me. Never once have I been afraid to talk to her about problems.
Happy birthday, Mom! You are amazing and epitomize what a mother should be.
The End
If you’ve been reading my blog for any period of time, you should know about my dad. In September, I wrote about missing him. In December, I wrote about how I felt I was cheated out of a father. In January, I wrote about his first contact with me since November 2007 and how I needed to let him know how much he had hurt me through the years. And on February 8th, I posted the letter I sent to him.
The letter was written in a way nicer tone than he deserved. While I let him know how much he had hurt me, I still left the door wide open for reconciliation. And with his reply later that month, he slammed the door shut, locked it, and threw away the key. In his e-mail back to me, all he seemed to do was take the parts he didn’t like and dissect them down. And, once again, all the blame fell squarely on my shoulders. He’s the best at twisting words around and making you feel like you did something wrong.
At that point in time, I was so wrapped up in school and my internship and just trying to keep my head above water. I didn’t have time to deal with replying to him, although I knew I had to reply. So I kept putting it off until I decided to send him an e-mail back on Father’s Day. (Spiteful? Yes.)
But he beat me to the punch by forwarding the e-mail to me Thursday night. I wrote the letter Saturday morning. I got up early and just wrote and wrote and wrote. Every time I would glance at the e-mail he sent me, my blood would boil and my hands would start shaking. The things he said in there were just plain awful and he showed no remorse or love for me.
On Monday, he sent me an e-mail with the subject header: “Where’s my phone call???????” This is what his message contained: “Well, I have not heard from you and I figure you were so pissed off you probably don’t want to speak to me. Well, I’m trying to move on. I’ve BEEN THROUGH A LOT these past 10 years and all my fault.”
Yes. He was moving on from me. I read this on my way out the gym and couldn’t stop the tears from falling on my way back to my apartment. To be quite honest, I’ve never really let myself cry over him. As open as I am on this blog, my emotions and feelings are locked up so tight to the outside world. I don’t talk about my problems with other people and even my mom has a tough time getting me to talk. It was the first time I let myself cry over the loss of my father.
I called my brother when I got home and read him the e-mail. He talked me down from the ledge. He’s really the only person in the world who can understand what I’m going through and he’s helped me to see that Dad is wrong about me and that I am special and worthy. After talking to my brother, I added a few paragraphs to my letter and sent it off to my dad. I haven’t received a response and I hope I never have to speak to him again. He has been the most negative force in my life and I’m better off without him. Now I just have to figure out how to go about that, how to put my dad in the past, and live my life without his nagging voice telling me I’m not good enough.
I’ll probably be blogging about this more, because it feels like my dad just died. In a way, he did. Our relationship died. I felt sick after sending the e-mail, but also empowered because I said what I wanted to say and didn’t back down from anything.
For your viewing pleasure, here’s some of what I said to him:
Being loved and having unconditional love are two completely different things. There were times I felt your love. I hold on tight to those times because they were few and far between. When I was younger, you were awesome. It was only as I grew older that I realized what I needed to do to grab your attention and keep your love. A child should never feel like they should have to do a dance to get a hug from their parent. I felt like I was walking on eggshells around you, trying to do my best to impress you but always falling short.
It was in spite of you that Mark and I never touched a cigarette or a drug. It was in spite of you that we didn’t turn into alcoholics. It was in spite of you that I’m not the mother of multiple children. It was in spite of you that Mark has managed to have a normal, functioning relationship with his girlfriend where he has never even thought about doing things you did to Mom. (He’s only 23 and he’s double the man you will ever be. One of his goals in life is to be nothing like you and he’s doing a damn fine job at that.)
Mom has been more than a mother and a father to Mark and I. She has been our sounding board, our support system, and our friend. She has done everything she can to make us happy. She has taken out loans to keep us afloat when you weren’t giving us child support. We moved into a two-bedroom house for 3 years where her “room” was the living room. She gave up so much for us that to even think of you trying to take credit for how we turned out makes me want to vomit. You didn’t help at all. You hindered. And it was only by her love and support that Mark and I grew up to be functioning members of society. We have never been to jail. We don’t have a criminal record. We don’t drink or smoke or do drugs. We both have steady jobs. We are doing everything in our power to not turn out anything like you.
I can’t even fathom telling a child of mine I’m “moving on” from them. You have to be a pretty screwed-up person to think about severing the relationship with your own flesh-and-blood. And, sure, your life hasn’t been easy. (But who ever said life was easy?!) But YOU are the one who stole money from your mother, abused women, gambled away every penny you made, stole money from your brother, attacked your brother, stole his car, etc. You play the victim card so well but YOU DID THIS TO YOURSELF! Stop being such a victim and start taking control over your life. Be a man for once.
I’m ready to move on from this relationship, but it’s still hard. It wasn’t easy writing these words and it was even harder pressing the “send” button to give it to him. But he needed to read these words and I needed to say them. This is one story that won’t have a happy ending, but in time, I hope to discover and explore my own means of finding a happy ending.
A Letter… {part 2}
In February, I wrote a letter to my father. This is a different sort of letter. A letter to the woman I am so proud to call my mom.
Dear Mom,
If I ever needed to know what unconditional love looked like, I only have to look at you. You have shown me complete, unconditional love from day one. You are one of the strongest women I know, and I hate that you don’t see yourself this way. Because you are. There’s nobody in the world could have gone through the circumstances you have gone through and emerged out as such a winner.
Growing up, it was tough living with you and Dad. The fights were intense and frequent. I remember watching Dad hold a knife to your throat when I was just a child. I remember thinking, “Mom, please stop!” when you continued to fight with him, but then so proud that you could hold your own. I remember walking on eggshells around Dad and feeling the wrath of his anger. I remember the sweet relief I felt when you sat me down one night when I was in fifth grade and told me we were leaving my father.
Leaving your husband of almost 13 years was no easy feat. You had to become a single mom to a 12-year-old sullen boy and a 11-year-old scared-of-her-own-shadow girl. You had to move back in with your parents. There was nothing easy about what you did, but it was necessary. “I didn’t want your brother and you to see our relationship and think this is how a marriage looks like,” is what you say to this day of why you left my father. It didn’t just show me that, it also showed me what it means to be a strong woman.
We weren’t always good friends. I wrote “I hate my mom” on my dresser in middle school. I was embarrassed to walk around in the mall with you. I thought you were old-fashioned with your Christian values.
But now you are my best friend. You are someone I go to for all my problems. We have our moments of utter silliness where we giggle like we’re in middle school. We have our moments of extreme seriousness where we talk about our problems. And we have our quiet moments where we just sit in complete, comfortable silence.
You have supported me every step of the way: through my awful education internships, losing weight, my decision to switch my major, some terrible jobs, and you were there to pick up the pieces every single time my father broke my heart. I know I can talk to you about any problem and concern I may have and you will listen.
We have been through a lot together. I was with you as you lost 80 pounds. I was with you when you left my dad for the final time. I was with you as you struggled with extreme depression, after leaving my father.
You are an amazing woman. You raised two amazing kids on a limited budget. While Mark and I never got a car for our 16th birthdays, we received more in love and support from you than a car could ever give. You taught us about responsibility, courage, and honesty. You taught us about forgiveness as you sent us off to my father’s house every other weekend, knowing he was going to spend the majority of the time bashing you. You have taught me about love, a selfless love, that keeps on giving and never grows weary.
I am so glad to be your daughter. While I may have bombed in the dad department, I got the pot of gold in the mom department. You are amazing, beautiful, and so much fun to be with. I love you, Mom.
Love,
Stephany
Why MY Grandma?
Last week, my grandma started her first of 12 rounds of chemotherapy. After surviving 2008 and beating Stage IV colon cancer, her cancer came back in 2010. A small amount of cancer was found in her lung and she would have to endure chemo once again.
I remember what my grandma was like in 2008, especially towards the end of her fight. She morphed from my plump, squeezable grandmother to a frail, small woman who I was scared to hug too hard for fear I would break her. I remember the fear we all felt and the fear my grandma tried so well to keep hidden.
But then she beat the cancer and spent 2009 recuperating. She was healthy enough to go out to lunch with the family on Mother’s Day, cook Thanksgiving dinner, and return to her normal self. She was feeling great, getting plenty of exercise, and baby-sitting her great-grandson a few days a week. Her energy level was high. She was back to being my grandma again.
And now I’m scared. I don’t want her to return to that frail woman again. I don’t want her to have to deal with the side effects of chemotherapy, the constant beeping of her pump during the nights she has poison racing through her body, the inability to drink anything but room-temperature water, the disappointment when her blood count is to low to go through chemotherapy for that week, the exhaustion so bad that turning over in bed seems like a chore.
I don’t understand why she, out of everyone in my life, has to deal with this. Why does my grandma have to go through this pain? She’s faithful. She’s giving. She’s sweet. She’s everything I could ever ask for in a grandma, and in a woman. She doesn’t deserve this. My grandma and grandpa are dealing with enough on their own. They have to deal with her cancer, too?
I have anger. I’m not directing it towards God because that’s misplaced anger. If anything, God is the one we all need to lean on during this time. I guess I’m just angry at the situation. I don’t think it’s fair that she’s the one who has cancer again. Life isn’t fair and I know this. But I’m still upset about it.
It’s been said that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. So I guess this is why my grandma has to deal with this again. She can handle it. She has the strongest faith of anyone I know. And she has an incredible husband by her side, someone who loves her so deeply. Out of everyone in our family, they are the two who could handle this the most.
So it’s not fair. And I am angry that my grandma has to deal with chemotherapy again. I wish she was still healthy and was still baby-sitting my nephew. But she’s not. She does have to deal with this. And our entire family will be by her side to support her and pray for her. She will endure this season and emerge victorious. She did it before, she’ll do it again.
The Letter
Dear Dad,
I’m writing this letter to you because there are so many times I have wished I could have had the courage to say these things to your face. It’s a letter that has been festering in the deep recesses of my soul to give to you, so you could know how I truly feel. It’s not going to be an easy letter to write or an easy letter to read. And here is what I want you to do, for me: read the letter. And then take a week to process it. Don’t send out a spiteful e-mail right away (I’m your daughter, half your blood, so I know this is something you would do — because it’s something I would do.). Take the week and come back to the letter. Read it again and then write me back, if you wish. Do this for me, Dad.
It’s been over 2 years since I last saw you. November 24, 2007 was the exact date. I remember this because we celebrated my birthday. And I just remember how happy I was! It felt like old times — going out to dinner, coming home for cake & ice cream, and playing games. I felt like this was a turning point in our relationship. But it wasn’t. Because then I gave you a test: how long would it take my father to call me? To be honest, I was fed-up with having to call you all the time and you never really putting in the time and effort for our relationship.
But you never called me, Dad. I waited for so long until one day I just knew you wouldn’t call me back. It felt like you were finished with me.
Mom has tried her best to be the father and the mother for Mark and I. And she has done an awesome job in raising us. Neither of us has ever touched a cigarette or tried drugs. We don’t even drink. We are both successful in our own rights. We have never been in trouble with the law and I credit everything to my mom. She went through more than most single parents go through in raising us and came out on top. Not many single mom’s can say that they raised 2 great, awesome kids who never kept her up one night, worrying about where they were or what they were doing. And we still don’t.
I’m carrying a lot of baggage from my past. And most of that baggage is from you. I’m going to be blunt with you – you were never a good father to me. You berated and belittled me, yelled at me at unnecessary times and made me cry, you never showed me the unconditional love of a father. I have grown up not knowing how to respond to male attention, nor how to have a successful male relationship — because I was never shown this from my own father. And the one man in the world whom I am supposed to know loves me uncondtionally didn’t. Do you know how that feels? To grow up, knowing your dad didn’t truly love you? It causes a girl to lose total self-worth in herself, to question everything she believes in, and gives her the avenue to berate/belittle herself.
I never quite felt like I measured up to what you wanted in a daughter. I never felt that I was pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough, athletic enough, or skinny enough to be called your daughter. I constantly tried whatever I could to get your attention but always came up empty.
Our relationship was never strong to begin with. We had our moments, sure, and when I was younger, I was so proud to have you as my dad. You were the charming, funny guy that everyone felt at ease around. You played with me, acted silly with me, and made me feel well-loved. But then you and Mom divorced and it seems like things spiraled downward from there. We became an afterthought for you. Well, maybe not Mark but I know I did.
I miss you, Dad. I miss having you in my life so much sometimes that it hurts to breathe. I miss seeing you, I miss your smell, I miss your scratchy face when you have whiskers. I miss all the inside jokes we used to have. I miss hugging you. I miss watching TV and movies, curled up in your lap. I miss the fun we used to have together. I miss playing Monopoly (remember “Bankrupt on Baltic”?) and Blind Man’s Bluff. I miss your jokes and sense of humor. There have been so many times when I’ll say something funny or make a funny face and Mom will say, “That was your dad right there!” And I just get so sad, because you’re not here anymore. You have chosen not to be here anymore.
I want you back in my life. I want to see my dad again and rebuild our relationship. I want to hear you apologize and admit to your part in this failed relationship. I love you, Dad. l love you so much. First and foremost, you are my dad. You may not have been the best one but I’m your flesh-and-blood and there’s nobody else I could call my dad. I want to be able to call you dad again.
Your daughter,
Stephany