Tuesday, August 7, 2007

My Real Mother and the Truth

I have told her that I love her. She has shown me that she loves me. I have told her that I wished she raised me; she has told me that she's glad I had a good life.

Good life -- for the first time in my life (I think) I am remembering so much of my childhood; from not being allowed out until senior year of high school to hiding in the bathtub so my father would not kiss on me with his whiskey breath; from driving to school with smoke blowing into my face; to my mother yelling at me when I was more than 2 minutes late out of class: trying to find my jacket, backpack and lunchbox in order NOT to get yelled at. I could never win.

I remember being embarrassed when she would go on field trips with me because she would always make a scene; while all other parents had fun, she would have us single file, like robots, not allowing us to stop and see the secenery, which was the point of the field trip.

I remember my dad would sometimes find me in the bathtub and pull me out and give me those kisses anyway. I would remember he would tuck me in and tell me about the birds and the bees and touch my chest while telling me how someday I would grow "breasts." I look back now and I see abuse; though he would never admit to it.

I dreaded either of my parents being or coming home. My mother stayed home and most of the time there she was as I would walk into the house. I recall never, ever, being good enough for her. Nothing I could do was good enough. My grades were perfect, but I was still not good enough. I remember sitting at the dinner table with a home cooked meal sometimes and just wanting to throw it all up, because being there made me feel sick.

Most of all, I remember my father coming home filthy drunk, the smell of his breath still with me. God, how I wanted him away from me. God, how I wished he wouldn't even come home.

A good life. A better home. A loving and married couple. As opposed to what? As opposed to my beautiful mother with a loving step father and gorgeous siblings? Maybe the beginning for them was hard; I know it was. I know they had very little money and the kids' presents on Christmas were even wrapped with re-used wrapping paper for Kieran I hear, so maybe they didn't get the newest craze that I did. But they were loved. They were cherished. Now money isn't even an issue that I can see. Their one bedroom apartment was left for a pretty, and roomy home. The kids are happy. My brother is in college, courtesy of them. They all feel loved and they all ARE loved. They don't have a single complaint about the way they were raised, other than that she was a bit over protective, probably a fear since losing me.

I realize that I hadn't had a good life. This hurts some because I've denied it my whole life, but it also hurts because I don't ever, ever, EVER want to hurt her feelings. I am scared to death to tell her life wasn't a piece of cake. I am scared to death to tell her that adoption was a mistake. That I long for her love like a small child, that I long for her to hold me and love me forever. I am scared to awaken her to what she would never want to hear. At the same tme, I want her to know ME. I want her to know MY life. What I've been through, just the same as I long to hear her story.



suz said...

I would tell her. As a mom, I would want to know the truth. Chances are the truth is manifesting itself somewhere in your relationship. It may be sad and hard for her but you both deserve to be you authentic selves - and that includes all your foibles and shadows and hardships. Its very obvious to me that my daughter is holding a great deal back. Dont assume your mother doesnt feel it as some level.

Andie D. said...

I'm with Suz.

I tried to hide the same from my my mom, but it came out eventually. I told her that I would always tell her the truth, and it's been hard, but good.

You'll do the same when you're ready.

Ashlee said...

Thanks for signing my guestbook Nicole, you aresuch a strong person.

Betsy said...

I followed your link from my comments section of my blog, and I am so glad I did. What an incredible young woman you are!

I've read your blog from beginning to end - what a story you have to share!

You have so very much to give - my prayers are with you for a very healthy recovery - the world needs someone as beautiful as you.

pam said...

Hi. I found your site in Ashlees gb and I thought I would come by and say hello. I will keep u in my prayers.

Nicole said...

Hi Nicole, I found you thru Betsy. I too am a Nicole. I just wanted to tell you how much I admire your honesty with yourself about your feelings. It seems that honesty most likely came from your Mom. I say tell her, I think she'll love hearing it! I will be praying for you!

Julie said...

Tell her. You need to, for you. I tried to tell mine and she fought hearing it. She was 67 when we met, and not all that well. She died 8 years later. I never got to tell her. But I needed so badly to tell her, to cry on her shoulder, Mommy, I didn't have the good life you wanted me to, I was so alone and so hurt. Please just hold me while I cry.

Your mother is young and strong. She is loving and empathetic - look what she did when you were in the hospital, coming anyway and sending you daisies and girl stuff.

Tell her. I truly believe it will help to heal you both. She is wounded too, from losing you.

I'm lighting two candles for you and one for her.

- Julie