Growing up without a mother

I am a compassionate person on normal circumstances, but not to my own mother. I call her my birthmother as she will never be my mother. Many other woman have taken that place as they were there for me and she never was nor ever will be. My mother is a drug addict and alcoholic. She is a thief and a cheater. She is allergic to happiness. I hate her.

When I am around people and she calls, I ignore her calls. My friends get shocked by this, but I tell them she is not my mother and I hate her. I am calm when I say this because I have had 18 years of her not being in my life. She will never be my mother and never was. Even when she was in my life, she was never a mother. The first time she left I was two. She went to rehab and came back a year later in Panama. I tell my father on a recurrent basis that I wish he never did because then I would not remember her. I would not remember the pain of her leaving us.

The day she left, I was 4 or 5. I remember it like it was yesterday and it still hurts like it was yesterday even though it was 17 or 18 years ago. It still make me cry like it was yesterday. It was a weekend… I know because she always woke me up on weekends. I woke up and thought it was strange that I was still asleep at this time of day. I called out for her in our apartment. No answer. I searched the kitchen, living room and finally my parent’s bedroom. I did not see my mother there, but my father sitting on their bed looking down on the floor. I remember him looking sad. I asked him where she was and he said gone. I walked into their room and looked in the closet. His words made no sense because everything she owned was still there. How could she be gone if her dresses, her scarves, jeans were all in her closet. How could she leave me?

My world shattered at that moment. Nothing made sense. I thought I had the perfect happy family until that moment. I remember seeing her one last time. It was in a hotel in Panama before going to Karate Class. My father did not tell me why we were there. She kissed me and told me she loved me and that was that. She was gone.

While my parent’s dealt with custody, I was in Haiti. I felt broken, lost and damaged. My father finally joined me and a few years later, we moved to Israel. He never explained to me why we were moving to this place but my father was never one to explain things. When we lived there, my father was talking and emailing my mother. He told me I should help her. At the age of 7, I told him “that is not my job” and at that moment, I decided to let her go. When she would call and my father was not home, I would hang up on her. The only time I ever spoke to her was if my father handed me the phone and forced me to talk to her. In my eyes, she was gone. I wanted to forget her and live a new life that did not involve a crappy mother. She was always a horrible mother, not just because she left. When she was nursing me, she was doing drugs. She could not stay sober or bottle feed me. At 9, I found out I had ADD and I blame her for that.

When I was nine, I went to Alaska with my father and my older brother. I thought it was just a vacation. My father rented a car before my brother got there and I fell asleep in the car while we were driving somewhere. He woke me up and I asked him where we were. He said to see an old friend. A woman with long red hair appeared. I did not know who she was. It took me 5 minutes to recognize her. It was my mother. I was horrified, panicked and I did not want to see her. My father tricked me. It was a surprise– a horrible surprise. I did not want her or need her in my life. I am glad my brother was there because if not, I do not know what I would have done. I did not want to spend time with her so, I went anywhere that Harley was. I held his hand or my father’s. Never her’s. I tried to ask her questions about why she left, but could not get a straight answer.  All she ever does is lie. I did not have any communication until I was 14 years old when she signed adoption papers so that my brother could legally become my father.

She can never be part of my life. She doesn’t know or understand me. I have accepted that. Every time I try to give her a chance, she lets me down. 2012, was the year I finally accepted that nothing good will ever happen with that relationship. I invited her to my graduation and she got drunk to the point where people asked my brother if they should call an ambulance. She had chances and always lets me down. My father keeps telling me to forgive her. I have accepted who she is, but forgiveness is unreachable with her. She has done so much damage to me and my father that I am unwilling to forgive her because she has never even said I am sorry. I hold on to my anger for the both of us. My father is forgiving and loving, but I will never forgive her. She will never be a part of my future only my past. She says she loves me but the truth is, she is incapable of love. She destroyed everything, but she will not destroy me or the people I love.

I hate her because it is what she deserves. But, I thank her for giving me life and I thank my father for giving me everything I ever needed.


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