A Cold Truth

Habit.

When I pick up a book or now my Kindle I rarely get far before I want to write. It’s weird but there must be a link between the two within the brain which seems obvious I guess. It’s never the other way around though.

I’ve just had a thought. I have this wonderful opportunity to make a person’s life a happy and secure one. Forget what you know of me. Forget what I know of me. I have this strength and determination to make Eva happy. It comes from my own childhood. This thought actually derived from the novel I’m reading which is yet to prove itself. It’s written it first person which, to me, usually sounds wooden. It was a simple line and it hit a nerve ‘I did text them both when I first got home to reassure them it went well but they won’t be placated until they’ve actually spoken to me’ that right there is what my life has always been missing. My parents have never really had a good relationship with me, I believe they’re missing the parenting/nurturing gene. My mom has never really been concerned about me. She has never cared about my education, she’s never known what subjects I liked and where I fell short. She couldn’t name a single teacher who taught me. She never cared if I failed or succeeded. I’ve never been pushed to excel. She didn’t ask about my day. She rarely got involved in my life. I was jealous of all of my friends because of the love exuding from their families.

So here I am in all my average, unloved glory. 

I did gain something though, I gained a strength. I also gained the desire to make my daughter’s life a better one. I will be that parent who knows all about her life. Being a kid can be lonely, especially when you’ve fallen out with your friends. I don’t want Eva to ever feel that she can’t talk to me. I want to be a hands-on parent because I wish I had had that. I wish my parents had been real parents. They fed and clothed me, sure, but that’s all they ever did. They were never emotionally available to me. I might of mentioned this before but it’s relevant to our current relationship, during the last hours of labour and the hours preceding my mother fell out with me over something so insignificant. She wasn’t allowed to see me due to it being out of visiting hours but I was looking forward to seeing her and my sister on my way through one ward to another as I was being wheeled on my hospital bed. My mom threw gifts onto my bed and snapped at the staff member carting me around. She didn’t look at my baby, she left without a kind word. There it went… that special moment I was looking forward to obliterated in seconds.

Very recently my mom has yet again fallen out with me and blocked me. I’m at a loss as always. I don’t need to go into that story. I don’t care how poisonous she is about me. I’m a good person, I don’t deserve her hostility. If I’m completely honest I don’t like my mom. I don’t forgive the years of emotional neglect. And I don’t forgive the years of her bullying. Every year I struggle to select a Mother’s Day card because she isn’t ‘an amazing mom’ she hasn’t done all these things that most cards list. She’s neglected and bullied me possibly my entire life. I honestly don’t know how you can say such awful things to your kids. She can bitch about me until the end of time, I have a story of my own.

I won’t be that monster to Eva. I’ll be everything that a mother should be. I’ll keep that girl close and I’ll be supportive endlessly.

People yarp on about life being too short, it is but why should I waste mine on a person so hateful? A person who cannot control the evil that comes out of her mouth. I’ve let things go but I will never have the parents that everyone deserves. The two people who you can’t disappoint because of their overwhelming love for you. The two people who will worry about you when you’re 40. The two people who will happily listen to your crap at 3am. If you have those two people, you are lucky. You should cherish them. If you only have one, you have a hell of a lot.

My daughter will have that and my parenting will be the opposite as the poor job that my parents did.

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