My Mother

So I realized that I’ve talked about Daddy, I’ve talked about Grey, and I think I’ve even mentioned my youngest brother once or twice (still can’t think of a good nickname….).

But besides a comment here or there, I’ve never really talked about my mother.

That’s not remotely fair.  She is an incredible woman.

It’s funny, the evolution of my relationship with my mom.

I remember a closeness right after my parents divorced, when we lived in that horrible house off Needmore. Two females against the world.  I remember part of why I never mentioned the abuse (besides the fear He instilled in me to never ever ever talk about it) was because I knew it would break my mother’s heart.  She worked two jobs at that time, in addition to having baby Grey.  I did everything I could to help.

Then unfortunately mostly apathy during my pre-teens years.  I think this is due a lot to the whole disassociation and constant splitting we dealt with.

During the teenage years, I know I was unfair. Especially with my fear of my dad’s anger; it was so much safer to be mad and rage at Mom. I knew- I know she would love me, even after all the things I’d say and do. Rika didn’t fear upsetting her like she did Daddy.  Mom still did special things for me. Drove me and my friends around. Helped me when the goings got tough with Daddy- and boys.

Then after Daddy kicked me out on graduation day, she selflessly let me stay in her second house- her home. For almost 5 years. I paid rent on and off- a terrible tenant I’m sure. I did pay the scary-high utilities and that sucked a lot of my meager budget.

When disaster struck the year Katherine left and I landed in the hospital- it was with no hesitation that she was the first person I called. She fought for me tooth and nail- my Mama Bear, to get out of that hellhole.

And I finally confided in her about my abuse and childhood.  I was right- it broke her heart.  But she expressed how much it meant that I told her.  That I trusted her.  And I do- to a degree.  I don’t know if I could ever tell her about the DID/MPD stuff.  I just think that would hurt her further.  And I don’t want to do that.

I love the relationship I have with her now. Getting through all the hard times has given me the best reward:
A mother who is my friend, my champion, my shoulder to cry on.

There is no sweeter victory.

I can only hope I can someday repay her. Or be even half the mother she is- if we could ever have the strength to try that again.

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