When I was younger I had a mother complex, I always clung to her side, I felt safe with her, and I wanted to keep her safe. My favorite part of every night was saying goodnight to my mother, she’d kiss me on the lips and put on my radio. Sometimes in the middle of the night she would come into my room and rub my back, her nails sending chills down my spine, but the good kind. I’d always wake up but I pretended to be asleep so she would keep going. She never said anything when she’d come in but she would sit next to me for about 10 minutes before she would leave again. My mother was everything to me, when I’d go to my dad’s house for weekend visits I’d pray to God that he’d return me to her. I had her picture on my dresser; I’d hug it and cry because I hated my dad and
being away from her.
Those days probably had to be my purest, my mom was almost like a God to me,
I wanted more than anything to see her happy. At that time I thought the love I had for my mother was the most love anyone could feel for another person; I wanted to marry my mother. It wasn’t perverse, I was only 5 when I decided that I was the only one that could keep her safe and that every man on the planet was out to hurt her. More times than I can count I’d wake up screaming and crying because I had a dream that she died or left me forever. When I was young that was the worst thing she could’ve done to me.
My mother has always been a very beautiful woman, she went through so many
men; sometimes it seemed like these men were our meal tickets when we had no where else to go, but just because these men loved my mother doesn’t mean they were good people. One man I can remember actually felt like my father; he made me laugh and treated me like his daughter; it pains me to say this but he was just as bad as everyone else. He was a paranoid vet, he locked me in a room away from my mom and he’d hit her but we kept coming back for the longest time. When times were good they were great but when they were bad I always felt like it was my fault. This happened again and again with different guys but none of them felt like he did in my heart.
Today he’s dead, my real father told me over dinner. It had been years since I’ve
seen or heard from my mom’s ex but the last couple times I did see him he was happy to see me and he had just had a kid of his own. I don’t know why my dad told me but I feel it was to get a reaction out of me; this man had died 3 years ago and I had no idea. I met his father, I met his infant son just 8 years ago and I am supposed to believe he’s dead. I spent the rest of lunch trying not to cry.
Back to my mother, my love for her never dulled as I got older. I wanted her to get
married and find a man worthy of her; I grew resentful of every guy she dated. Just as I did when I was younger I jumped at any opportunity to spend time with her but it seemed like every time I was awake, she was asleep and every time I was asleep she would go out. So I started waiting for her to get home, this got me into a little bit of trouble; she never yelled or hit me, she would just smile and walk me to bed.
She always went all out for my school projects; I remember waking up countless
mornings to see something she made just for me to take to school. She showed me a pair of bell bottoms, made a big hat for Dr. Seuss day, and sometimes just to get me up she’d get us burritos from Jack’s. Those were simpler times.
Throughout my childhood I made so many excuses for my mother all for the sake of keeping safe. She asked me to lie for her countless times and for seven years it was just me and her and no other family. Sometimes I’d get home from school and she’d lock herself in the bathroom and I wouldn’t see her until the sun went down. The was one time I came home from school and she was hugging the toilet bowl, throwing up. I tried to get close and help her but she said “Shut the Fuck Up, Fuck you [REDACTED]” so I went to my room and minded my own. Now I know she was drunk and not sick by any medical standard. All those times in the bathroom and when she went out at night, she was doing drugs. She has been doing drugs since before I was born.
It all started to collapse around Christmas time, once again I didn’t have my own
bed so I was sleeping with my mother, I was only 12 at the time but I woke up at 5 am to go to the store, when I got back my mom was worried and gave me the typical parent speech of telling her where I was. Little did I know, less than a month later she’d be arrested and I went to go live with a friend. My mom was let out and put into rehab so she would occasionally visit me with her new boyfriend. He seemed nice at the time, not like the other drug addict losers she dated in the past.
being away from her.
Those days probably had to be my purest, my mom was almost like a God to me,
I wanted more than anything to see her happy. At that time I thought the love I had for my mother was the most love anyone could feel for another person; I wanted to marry my mother. It wasn’t perverse, I was only 5 when I decided that I was the only one that could keep her safe and that every man on the planet was out to hurt her. More times than I can count I’d wake up screaming and crying because I had a dream that she died or left me forever. When I was young that was the worst thing she could’ve done to me.
My mother has always been a very beautiful woman, she went through so many
men; sometimes it seemed like these men were our meal tickets when we had no where else to go, but just because these men loved my mother doesn’t mean they were good people. One man I can remember actually felt like my father; he made me laugh and treated me like his daughter; it pains me to say this but he was just as bad as everyone else. He was a paranoid vet, he locked me in a room away from my mom and he’d hit her but we kept coming back for the longest time. When times were good they were great but when they were bad I always felt like it was my fault. This happened again and again with different guys but none of them felt like he did in my heart.
Today he’s dead, my real father told me over dinner. It had been years since I’ve
seen or heard from my mom’s ex but the last couple times I did see him he was happy to see me and he had just had a kid of his own. I don’t know why my dad told me but I feel it was to get a reaction out of me; this man had died 3 years ago and I had no idea. I met his father, I met his infant son just 8 years ago and I am supposed to believe he’s dead. I spent the rest of lunch trying not to cry.
Back to my mother, my love for her never dulled as I got older. I wanted her to get
married and find a man worthy of her; I grew resentful of every guy she dated. Just as I did when I was younger I jumped at any opportunity to spend time with her but it seemed like every time I was awake, she was asleep and every time I was asleep she would go out. So I started waiting for her to get home, this got me into a little bit of trouble; she never yelled or hit me, she would just smile and walk me to bed.
She always went all out for my school projects; I remember waking up countless
mornings to see something she made just for me to take to school. She showed me a pair of bell bottoms, made a big hat for Dr. Seuss day, and sometimes just to get me up she’d get us burritos from Jack’s. Those were simpler times.
Throughout my childhood I made so many excuses for my mother all for the sake of keeping safe. She asked me to lie for her countless times and for seven years it was just me and her and no other family. Sometimes I’d get home from school and she’d lock herself in the bathroom and I wouldn’t see her until the sun went down. The was one time I came home from school and she was hugging the toilet bowl, throwing up. I tried to get close and help her but she said “Shut the Fuck Up, Fuck you [REDACTED]” so I went to my room and minded my own. Now I know she was drunk and not sick by any medical standard. All those times in the bathroom and when she went out at night, she was doing drugs. She has been doing drugs since before I was born.
It all started to collapse around Christmas time, once again I didn’t have my own
bed so I was sleeping with my mother, I was only 12 at the time but I woke up at 5 am to go to the store, when I got back my mom was worried and gave me the typical parent speech of telling her where I was. Little did I know, less than a month later she’d be arrested and I went to go live with a friend. My mom was let out and put into rehab so she would occasionally visit me with her new boyfriend. He seemed nice at the time, not like the other drug addict losers she dated in the past.
After 6 months of living with my friend I went to live with my dad, still visited
my mother as much as possible but I just wanted to go back to how things were. I wanted to live with her and her boyfriend; maybe we could be a family. That finally came true after my first year of high school. I moved into their place, with my new babysitter. She had a baby while I was away, I was happy. Every morning I would take care of her, she was a new ray of light in my life. My mom would wake me up with an iced coffee and hand me the baby to watch until her and my sister’s father got back.
my mother as much as possible but I just wanted to go back to how things were. I wanted to live with her and her boyfriend; maybe we could be a family. That finally came true after my first year of high school. I moved into their place, with my new babysitter. She had a baby while I was away, I was happy. Every morning I would take care of her, she was a new ray of light in my life. My mom would wake me up with an iced coffee and hand me the baby to watch until her and my sister’s father got back.
My mother was happy, I could see her adopting the housewife lifestyle right before my eyes, I was happy for her. This was my new life; the cutest baby sister, a happy and sober mother, and maybe a father. My sister’s father and I got along well, he’d tickle me and rough house; he even watched my favorite shows with me. Everything was perfect, even the neighborhood we lived in looked like it was ripped right out of a TV show, but nothing good in my life ever seems to stick around.
My sister’s father started to touch me; my butt and my chest until he finally
exposed himself to me on his phone. I felt sick, I couldn’t stop shaking. So many
thoughts were racing through my head; I needed to get out of there but I also needed to keep my little sister and mother safe from him. I was only 15.
“[REDACTED], was it okay that I shared a art of myself with you? You’re so bad....”
Even thinking back on those words make me tremble in fear once again, I feel like a little helpless girl. That night I got as much of my stuff, my mom’s stuff, and my sister’s things packed into a backpack that I hid in the garage. I texted my grandma to meet me and my mother at the local highschool; my mom was gonna enroll me the next day so I felt it was the perfect time to run. The next morning I wrote down on a piece of paper what happened to me. Once we were at the school district I felt awful, my mother looked so happy, she had the brightest smile ever; and I was the one who’d have to ruin it. We met my grandma in the parking lot; my mother looked confused, then I gave her the note. She started to cry and so did I.
We drove back to the house with my grandma following behind and she offered to go get my stuff and I instead told her about my plan. She went and got my sister; not to leave with me but to say goodbye, she told me I would see her again.
While on the road she texted me about talking to my sister’s father about the “Misunderstanding”, once I said that I never wanted to set foot in that house again, everything changed. My life, my childhood, it was all ripped away from me.
“What does his dick look like then?”
“You’re a slut! Bitch! Liar!”
“No one will believe you”
Never in my life did I imagine my mother betraying my, I was actually afraid that
she would try to fight him; I was so stupid back then. I cried for many nights, I still cry.
I went to go live with my Dad’s family again, they treated me nice. My
grandparents treated me like their daughter but at that point it was too late; no one will ever feel like my mother or father. That was my rock bottom, that man had taken my mother and sister from me, and somehow it felt like my fault.
While living with family I found out so much about my mother, how she treated
the family, how she treated me. Ignoring how bad my childhood was, it wasn’t out of the norm for her to leave me home alone when I was a baby. I know why my aunts avoided her now and just how cursed my existence is.
I had to go pick up some stuff from my mother’s house but when I got there a man answered the door telling me that my mom had been arrested months ago. It was
happening again, she was using; it was my fault. Soon I would start visiting her in prison, she was nice to me, but she never apologized.
I remember when I was little I would tell her all about my dream sweet 16, we planned it together. She wasn’t there, so I went to visit her again but this time in my sweet 16 dress. I can’t remember the last birthday I spent with her.
I used to love it when people told me that I looked like my mother, but now I know it’s a curse. I am a constant reminder to my family that my mom has been hurt. My existence is cursed. Sometimes when I am with my aunts I wonder if me being there hurts them. I wonder all the time if my existence is hurting people, this face isn’t mine. In a sick way I can’t help but to claw towards my mother’s likeness, I trim my eyebrows like hers and in my senior year of high school I won homecoming queen just for her. Right after I won, I called her. I was blocked. In front of everyone I ugly cried, a crown on my head and snot dripping from my nose; nothing like a queen.
During winter break I received a call from my mother. She had gotten in a car wreck with my sister. I drove 2 hours to the hospital she was at to see her. When I got there she was in a hospital bed unable to move. My sister was okay; I was gonna take her home with me and care for her until my mom got out of the hospital. I hugged my mother goodbye and she kissed me like old times. This time I flinched away. I didn’t want to kiss her on the lips but she grabbed my face.
I took care of my sister for a couple days, it felt like she was my baby. I did everything to keep her happy and I held her close to me every night, but then the social worker came. This was the first time I’ve seen my sister since she was a baby; I begged the social worker to let me keep my sister, but I was just a kid in high school. They took my sister away from me the night before Christmas. My mom called me that night as well, asking to talk to my sister. I had to tell her through my tears of anguish that they took her. My mother wasn’t mad, but she cried a lot over the phone.
Making this chapter shorter I will summarize; My mother was sent back to rehab, my sister was put in foster care until my mom was proven competent by a judge, and my mother was still with the man who hurt me. I visited my sister while she was in foster care.
Another couple years later my mom got my sister back and they both started appearing in my life more. She was still with him. Years of crying and begging the universe for my mother to come see me had worn off by then. I still felt love for her but I couldn’t look her in the eye, and anytime she said my name or touched me I felt hollow. I felt nonexistent.
My mother never broke up with him, he left her. She called me crying and begging for forgiveness. I had been waiting for that exact moment for 5 years, this was the moment that was supposed to deliver my soul. Make everything better. Instead I felt nothing but sadness, what was this all for? Was an apology ever gonna make this better? She asked me what she could do to make it up to me and I said that she already had. That was a lie, a lie to protect her because I love her.
I just don’t know if she ever loved me. I don’t know who my mother really is, my whole life she’s been a ghost. At night when she’d come into my room and rub my back was she thinking of how much better she would’ve been if she had gotten an abortion? It's almost like I don’t feel like myself anymore. When I think about it, I don’t know the last time I felt like myself.
The more I write the harder it gets to write but the more I write, the more I have to write about. It’s like a sickness permeating through my entire body. I swear, I love my mother, I just can’t be around her. I don’t feel anything but love for her; that’s why I am disgusted. I am someone who can be constantly used and abused but still want to protect her while her hands are squeezing my neck. I’ve lost who I am in all this mess as well. I know for a fact my younger self would yell at me for being so heartless. The younger me would look at me with nothing but disdain and disgust. I don’t know who I miss more; whether it’s my mother or myself.
Even thinking back on those words make me tremble in fear once again, I feel like a little helpless girl. That night I got as much of my stuff, my mom’s stuff, and my sister’s things packed into a backpack that I hid in the garage. I texted my grandma to meet me and my mother at the local highschool; my mom was gonna enroll me the next day so I felt it was the perfect time to run. The next morning I wrote down on a piece of paper what happened to me. Once we were at the school district I felt awful, my mother looked so happy, she had the brightest smile ever; and I was the one who’d have to ruin it. We met my grandma in the parking lot; my mother looked confused, then I gave her the note. She started to cry and so did I.
We drove back to the house with my grandma following behind and she offered to go get my stuff and I instead told her about my plan. She went and got my sister; not to leave with me but to say goodbye, she told me I would see her again.
While on the road she texted me about talking to my sister’s father about the “Misunderstanding”, once I said that I never wanted to set foot in that house again, everything changed. My life, my childhood, it was all ripped away from me.
“What does his dick look like then?”
“You’re a slut! Bitch! Liar!”
“No one will believe you”
Never in my life did I imagine my mother betraying my, I was actually afraid that
she would try to fight him; I was so stupid back then. I cried for many nights, I still cry.
I went to go live with my Dad’s family again, they treated me nice. My
grandparents treated me like their daughter but at that point it was too late; no one will ever feel like my mother or father. That was my rock bottom, that man had taken my mother and sister from me, and somehow it felt like my fault.
While living with family I found out so much about my mother, how she treated
the family, how she treated me. Ignoring how bad my childhood was, it wasn’t out of the norm for her to leave me home alone when I was a baby. I know why my aunts avoided her now and just how cursed my existence is.
I had to go pick up some stuff from my mother’s house but when I got there a man answered the door telling me that my mom had been arrested months ago. It was
happening again, she was using; it was my fault. Soon I would start visiting her in prison, she was nice to me, but she never apologized.
I remember when I was little I would tell her all about my dream sweet 16, we planned it together. She wasn’t there, so I went to visit her again but this time in my sweet 16 dress. I can’t remember the last birthday I spent with her.
I used to love it when people told me that I looked like my mother, but now I know it’s a curse. I am a constant reminder to my family that my mom has been hurt. My existence is cursed. Sometimes when I am with my aunts I wonder if me being there hurts them. I wonder all the time if my existence is hurting people, this face isn’t mine. In a sick way I can’t help but to claw towards my mother’s likeness, I trim my eyebrows like hers and in my senior year of high school I won homecoming queen just for her. Right after I won, I called her. I was blocked. In front of everyone I ugly cried, a crown on my head and snot dripping from my nose; nothing like a queen.
During winter break I received a call from my mother. She had gotten in a car wreck with my sister. I drove 2 hours to the hospital she was at to see her. When I got there she was in a hospital bed unable to move. My sister was okay; I was gonna take her home with me and care for her until my mom got out of the hospital. I hugged my mother goodbye and she kissed me like old times. This time I flinched away. I didn’t want to kiss her on the lips but she grabbed my face.
I took care of my sister for a couple days, it felt like she was my baby. I did everything to keep her happy and I held her close to me every night, but then the social worker came. This was the first time I’ve seen my sister since she was a baby; I begged the social worker to let me keep my sister, but I was just a kid in high school. They took my sister away from me the night before Christmas. My mom called me that night as well, asking to talk to my sister. I had to tell her through my tears of anguish that they took her. My mother wasn’t mad, but she cried a lot over the phone.
Making this chapter shorter I will summarize; My mother was sent back to rehab, my sister was put in foster care until my mom was proven competent by a judge, and my mother was still with the man who hurt me. I visited my sister while she was in foster care.
Another couple years later my mom got my sister back and they both started appearing in my life more. She was still with him. Years of crying and begging the universe for my mother to come see me had worn off by then. I still felt love for her but I couldn’t look her in the eye, and anytime she said my name or touched me I felt hollow. I felt nonexistent.
My mother never broke up with him, he left her. She called me crying and begging for forgiveness. I had been waiting for that exact moment for 5 years, this was the moment that was supposed to deliver my soul. Make everything better. Instead I felt nothing but sadness, what was this all for? Was an apology ever gonna make this better? She asked me what she could do to make it up to me and I said that she already had. That was a lie, a lie to protect her because I love her.
I just don’t know if she ever loved me. I don’t know who my mother really is, my whole life she’s been a ghost. At night when she’d come into my room and rub my back was she thinking of how much better she would’ve been if she had gotten an abortion? It's almost like I don’t feel like myself anymore. When I think about it, I don’t know the last time I felt like myself.
The more I write the harder it gets to write but the more I write, the more I have to write about. It’s like a sickness permeating through my entire body. I swear, I love my mother, I just can’t be around her. I don’t feel anything but love for her; that’s why I am disgusted. I am someone who can be constantly used and abused but still want to protect her while her hands are squeezing my neck. I’ve lost who I am in all this mess as well. I know for a fact my younger self would yell at me for being so heartless. The younger me would look at me with nothing but disdain and disgust. I don’t know who I miss more; whether it’s my mother or myself.