This is for all those mamas who didnt get what wed call a good example of mamahood when they were growin up. The mamas who were left with childhood scars and a parentin playbook of how NOT to be a mama. The mamas who parent in spite of what they experienced, always second guessin, lookin for ways in which their terrible childhoods might encroach on the families theyve created in the here and now. This is for you, dear mama friends. And this right here is for me. When College Girl was a high school sophomore, I was steady screamin at her. I could pretend now that I dont remember the hows and whys of what happened, but I do. I remember every detail of this moment. I was carryin on about how she couldnt do her own hair. We were leavin for a percussion ensemble performance and, Im ashamed to say, I was lettin loose on her like she killed my dog and owed me money. I was screamin at College Girl the way my mama used to scream at me. My mister stepped up and stepped in. He snatched a big, ole knot in my mama chain. He looked at his oldest babygirlchild, cryin in the bathroom and he looked at his wife, the mother of his children, and he said to me, he said, Stop. And I did. My mister got right up in my face and he asked me a question that brought me to my knees. He said, Beth, shes only gonna be with us for a few more years. Do you ever want to see her when she grows up? Do you want her to want to come back home? I started cryin, but my mister, he knew what he was doin and he kept right on with this parentin intervention. He said, If you keep treatin her like this, if you keep screamin at her and demeanin her, shes never gonna want to come back home. I had a choice that day. I know itll sound like bullshit, but its just the truth. I wanted to stay home while everyone else went away to this performance. Everyone else minus me could function like a happy family. I was the poison. I was the one contaminatin this gorgeous family. I wanted them to leave so I could runaway or get drunk or die. But I didnt. I cried off and on all day, but I went with my family. I said I was sorry and I went on and acted as right as I could given what I had. See, I didnt parent all my babies with that level of screamin banshee business. Just College Girl. Just my first one. I didnt do it all the time. The yellin only happened every now and again, but when it did, it was absolutely terrifyin and destructive. All of us heard it, lived in it, felt my malice, my mental illness, my rotten roots. I got back in therapy after that, cause see my mister told me something else that day. He told me that if I didnt get help, he was walkin and he was takin our babies with him. That right there was the absolute hardest thing this mama has ever, ever heard. And it was the greatest gift my mister ever gave this family. Things got better at home. I changed what I was doin, but not what I believed. I was mindful of my tone when I spoke with my children. I parented in spite of my childhood, so I was always lookin back while tryin to move forward. Yeah, I couldnt see where the hell I was goin. I just knew I was gonna make the changes that needed to be made so I didnt lose my family. Fast forward to my most recent therapist. Yall know him as Bob Hoskins cause thats who he looks like to me. When we first started our sessions, I disclosed to him that I screwed up with my first kid, with College Girl. I yelled at her and belittled her. I was so much like my own mama monster that an intervention was needed. I hung my head in shame even though I had been on point for several years now. Weve been workin on pullin the child I was out from underneath her bed where she hid from all the fightin and abuse. Im doin a mighty fine job of that. Not just doin something different, but I feel it, too. I dont feel like Im contaminated anymore. I feel pretty freakin amazeballs, if ya really wanna know. My therapist was remindin me of that today. Of how I only look back when Im in a shit storm on accounta how thats the only connection I have with the past. Good times take me forward. Theres no connection to the past. And heres how I know thats a truth. My therapist asked me today if I could compare the joy I felt over the holidays with anything in my childhood. If I could liken this joy, this messy joy of a family with any memory, anything from my past. And I tried. I tried hard, but it was no use, yall. My past is nothin like my present. My family is nothin like what I grew up in. And Im not my mother, my poor, broken, exhausted, mentally ill mother who, bless her, just couldnt handle the family she made with lovin kindness. As I sat there today, in my session, I thought of College Girl. Bob Hoskins, he asks me if College Girl came home for the holidays and I tell him of course she did. Where else would she go? And he reminds me of how I said shes the one I screwed up with all my screamin and fussin. He reminds me that she came home. I say, Well, that could be because she wants to see the rest of our family! And he says, Beth, if theres one asshole in a group of people, youre gonna avoid that whole group of people. And I say, So I would be the hypothetical asshole here? And he says, But youre not because your daughter comes home. And I cried and I cried cause its the truth. College Girl comes home. She loves me. We can talk openly about how things used to be and what scars her psyche may have suffered. I changed paths and I sought help. My therapist says, And this is the kid you think you screwed up? The one who comes home? This is for all the mamas who have to navigate past battles while on active duty with the families theyve created. This is for all the mamas who see glimpses of their rotten childhoods in the bright and shiny present. This is for me. I rescued that little girl I was. I pulled her out from underneath her bed and you know what? I didnt put any of my own children back there in her place. I broke the cycle of abuse.
Posted on: Wed, 07 Jan 2015 22:55:44 +0000
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