Mother's Day is upon us! Its my first Mother's Day as an incoherent writer trying to make it, so this could get fun. But here we go. My Mom, will ALWAYS be one of a kind. I am truly her son, the same person, in a much quieter form. A very street wise survivor who has been through it an back, and unfortunately, never got any help for any of it. We have come a long way as Mom and Son, a very long way. Lets see how short I can make this one. To all the Mothers of crazy Children. This is our story. It may be the last Mother's Day we celebrate together, so lets get to it!
My Mom is by far, the smartest person I know, always questioning, always wondering, always ready for a challenge with the right motivation. She faced a lot growing up, a lot of things I heard of, but never chose to talk about. She was pretty quiet about the situation, so I left it that way, I understand because someone violated and ruined my childhood too. Not things you want to wear as a badge of honor. But when the situation warranted, she could talk with the best of them. Still can, but, like me also, she is a firecracker of unpredictable timing, never EVER violent, but always making sure we are heard. Its the one trait I carry with pride from my Mom, I may be very quiet and reserved but if someone won't let me speak, I will be heard anyways. I never encourage situations, but I never walk away from them either. I may not have a lot of pride, but I got a hell of a lot of fight in me. I know what's right, and I fight like hell for it, we took separate paths down that road for a lot of years but, came together on our views in an acceptable enough way. Seeing eye to eye isn't a plan for our future, ever, but there's also nothing to learn from resentment. She kinda taught me to be that way, without trying.
For along time it was me and my mom against everyone. Even though we had people there, we were head strong on being known as loners. We did everything together, I even had to go visit her at work. When she met another man I remember exactly how I felt. I was so scared of losing my Mom that I wouldn't let her even date without me. When we moved here, she was the first one I ran to when I got into trouble as a kid, she was always a big hugger. She did everything and went way beyond means to make me happy. Even though there was another man around, it was still me and my Mom as a unit, I was happy, things were going well. She focused on her Son, and her Niece who she took in just as much as my Grandparents, whether she lived with us or not. Then, after 7 years of being a loner with my Mom, my Sister was born. I was excited to be a real Brother, but I kind of already was a Brother to someone. I had adapted to the life I lived, now it was changing. I had a hard time adjusting to not being able to just talk to my Mom anymore, or play, she was ALWAYS busy. I had to give up my bedroom, and everything I knew. I guess it was really my first signs of unhappiness. I love my Sister to death, but selfish old me got used to having my Mom with me, supporting me, and focusing on me. It was all about to take an unfair change.
2 years later we put my Grandfather to rest, a year later, we said goodbye to Nicky, and the year after, my Grandmother followed behind them. This is about the point you can cue the cyclone. We were hit in the gut time after time after time and everyone was leaving us out of anger and resentment because, apparently, from the stories I hear, that's what happens when someone dies... its a terrible fucking tragedy. I watched a cloud come over my Mom, the person who saved me from everything. She had always been harsh with words, because she is pretty good at talking her way into getting what she wants. She holds no shame in that fact. and uses words as a weapon. There had been plenty of moments that were uncalled for before this but, someone had broken my Moms heart and she turned it into concrete towards the world. At home it was different, we had become more sheltered, and she held us very close. Too close, she really used the word Family as talons to rip into your shoulder. We were supposed to do everything together, and if we didn't she did what she could to end my friendships. I have realized, overtime, they were not the best friendships, but not harmful, she just wanted me home. I rarely went to functions, I didn't start going to concerts until my teens and even that was rare. I learned most of my social cues from living amongst my family, and school. So I became... a ghost.
It had also been noted a few years earlier that my Sister tested high on the spectrum, which, she does. I knew that something was also very wrong with me. I was NOT a normal kid, we all knew it, but ignored it. To my Family I was just a product of them time and we were all hyperactive. I started to suffer severely in school, not because I wanted to, I just couldn't compute. There were so many things I was trying to speak on that I felt at the time and it always narrowed down to me just not wanting to do anything. I didn't get real help, I saw a psychiatrist once and it was figured out that because, I wouldn't talk the first time, it wouldn't work and we had said "At least we tried." Being ignored inspired so much rage, and I was already sad, and it created and Atom Bomb like effect. I had warned everyone for years it was coming. They all knew how I processed the small things, and reacted to emotions. They chose to use it against me, all of them. It did not go as planned, it in return, opened a wound that is still healing to this day.
We had so many good times, especially in front of the TV, or at my Moms best friends house where we spent a lot of time. But, my Mom was in constant pain, she didn't know how to express it, still doesn't she couldn't cry out her frustration, just like I cant. A lot of times, I would end up the punching bag, in return, my sister turned my Mom into a punching bag and I feel terrible, but at the the same I can't help but say in the back of my mind that this bomb was encouraged for all of my Sisters life, she has never had to work very hard at being better. She has always just kind of rode the rails and use her handicaps as a pawn instead of overcoming the simple things. A monster was created, while another was ignored. I will never say my Mom didn't love me the best she could, this is what she knew, and she did well, I WONT say different. Sometimes, you don't listen to your kids until its too late, and I always try to remember to soak in even the smallest things. Not in an overly paranoid way, just as in "I love you so much I will never hurt you by not helping you". I know that's also what my Mom wants the most.
We Don't talk much, but I love you so much too... Thanks for being you
When I was 15, I fired the first shot that broke her heart and expressed my rage in a letter at a school I didn't belong in to begin with. I have been thrown out of two local Private School... I wear that like a badge of honor. I had found punk rock, amongst... other... things. I got into weirdos telling me that I should just openly hate everything, and made anthem after anthem of shock, or so we called it, I took in all the lyrics, and started writing out my pain in my skin. No one knew for a long time, until someone got a hole of a notebook, and the secret was out, I wasn't the happy kid I was made out to be. You know? The kid I was screaming that I wasn't? There is a lot of details to what happened next, but, in the end, I was scared to death and we sat in an ER room for 12 hours before they had a bed ready for me. My Mom held my hand the entire time. She came to visit every night, and tried to listen the best she could. Meanwhile, I was 15, Goth and had turned this into a fun time kind of thing. I was getting help, and refused to leave until they encouraged me to spread my wings, I can't tell you how many times I tried to reach out further and discuss things. Anyone who has ever been on a staycation in a behavior unit knows, how well they listen.. I got a diagnosis of ADHD and Bipolar, and away I went. A fixed kid with a magic bean to chase all the bad stuff away.
2 years after that, I worked out a nice plan in my head, and luckily, went to my counselor to fill her in. Before I knew it, I was in an ER again and this time it wasn't so heart warming. No one could understand how I could still be feeling this way. They changed nothing and neither did I, how did that formula not computer?!... Anyways, since that first time, my Mom and I became close because she thought that she had nailed my mind. I had let her down and failed miserably. And just by chance, and chance alone, my girlfriend at the time had also found her way in without me being unaware and my Mom locked eyes with her and became enraged. I was called a lot of different things for reaching out for help. But when she said I was faking for attention, my heart broke, and I always remembered it. I had done ALOT to my Mom in the past. I got into a stage where I was stealing money, and ditching home for hours to ride my bike into the city and such. My mind instantly drew back to those moments, where I was up against the worst, and in her anger, she gave me love and reasoning eventually.
The years after that are kind of a blur, I don't remember being 18, until I left for the Navy. The day I called my Mom to tell her I was discharged was the first real interaction I had with her. I came home, and she showed her first real glimpse of happiness. Leaving had woke her up to how important it was having me around. On the other hand, I had my first taste away. I became someone neither of us knew because I tasted freedom, and I needed it back. Again, I am my Mothers son and rambling is in my blood. I met a girl that moved across the country, and had fallen head over heels and nothing was stopping it. We learned so much about each other in such a short time that I had the undying need to be with her. The problem here? I was 18, and not leaving that far from home. I fought it and fought it and fought it some more. Then... I decided to act. Head right over to part 2 of this special release to hear the rest of my gratitude towards Moms. Thanks for reading so far!
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