Mum.
*TW:abuse, mental health.
If you've had a really great mothers day and you're on a high, maybe skip this one, come back to it if you want. Or don't, that's ok too :)
I wasn't planning on posting something so soon after my first one, I don't think I have that capacity, in both amount of things I can write about or mentally, but waking up today, mothers day in Australia, rather than just wallowing in what I feel, I thankfully have this new outlet.
I'm going to start by saying the things I wish I could say to my mum. She's not dead or dying, but we haven't spoken in 18 years, more than half my life, despite me still visiting my dad (who is still in a loving marriage with her) at every opportunity I get.
Mum, I love you. Despite everything, I do. When I got married (God, that feels like an age ago.), around 4 years ago, and we hugged for the first time in 14 years, I cried harder than when I saw my bride at the time walking down the aisle. I felt like everything I missed out on washed onto me in an instant. I saw how much it felt to dad, to my sister, to my brother, and it was, looking back now, one of the more beautiful moments of my life. I genuinely wish nothing but the best for you. I don't know if you feel the same way, and I don't know how much if at all this whole situation is hurting everyone else, but I'm not ready, I don't think I'll ever be able, let alone ready, to forget what happened, despite forgiving it, and it seems like you arne't either. And that's ok mum. Just know, in my own way, I love you so much, and I'll never be able to repay everything you've done for me, but I'll appreciate it for the rest of my life.
Now you might be wondering, what happened? Well, here's as succinct as I can put it without sending myself into a spiral.
One night with dad at work, my older sister living with her boyfriend and my younger brother asleep upstairs, I heard my mother was returning to the Philippines for a couple of weeks (where we were both born). She would always take me and we would always go as a family, but in this case she was only returning to help my uncle with a health issue. I had a visual arts exam that I was absolutely dreading (I was a straight A, never got below 85% in an exam time kid), I had been worrying about it for weeks and heard the only way to get out of it was "being sick or in a different continent". Perfect, I thought, I'll ask mum if I can go with her, of course she'll say yes. She didn't. I freaked out and said some very hurtful things. I don't know if she was having a bad day or not, but she freaked out, took the knife that she was cutting up potatoes with, and jogged towards me with it, screaming and swearing at me and what an ungrateful piece of shit I was, she had it held in her right hand above her head, knife pointing down, with her left hand trying to grab at my shirt. I pushed her away and ran into my bedroom. In pure unadulterated shock.
That feeling of loss and confusion was beyond anything I have ever felt or I think I ever will feel. I remember sitting against my bedroom door imagining she would try and bust it down. I sat there with the house phone thinking about who to call, but I didn't want to burden anyone else with this (more on that later, my friends, family and even my boss at my performance review last week all call me "the martyr" LOL).
I didn't sleep that night, I stayed under my bed the whole night. I bundled up my blanket and moved my pillow in such a way that, when dad came home at 2am to check on me, he'd see that I was asleep and not worry.
Afterwards, my emotions ran the natural course for an adolescent male without guidance or learned fortitude; rather than feeling the immense sadness I let it turn into immutable hatred. How could she do that to me?
I immediately tried to tell dad, my brother, my sister. None of them believed me. And I don't blame them, honestly, it sounded crazy for lack of a better word, and one way or another, they probably could not or did not want to believe that she would do something like that. I'll never take that away from them.
So, I internalised it all. An intense, voluminous negativity. It inevitably manifested itself in a lot of ways that I regret. I already wasn't a happy kid, I got sent to a school counsellor at the age of 11 after asking a friend of mine what's the point of being alive lol. My parents got involved and it was really embarrassing to me at the time. So, after nobody believed me, I wouldn't tell anyone. I kept it within me and tried to live with it, I didn't want to tell anyone in authority in case it became something big that would hurt people. And I didn't want to do that, why allow my negative experience to spread and hurt others? Just so I would feel better? No chance.
I was not innocent in this situation, and I acknowledge that. I wish I was better and I wish I did better.
I was 14 years old. It nearly all ended there soon afterwards, were it not for a chance bystander walking through a park calling an ambulance after finding me, just in time.
So I've lived with it for 18 years. We lived in the same house from when I was 14 to 24, she would still make dinner for me, we'd sit around the same table, she would pack my lunch for school and wash my clothes and clean my room, I would help her lift things or bring the shopping in, fix her tech like a good son would. But we didn't say a word to each other. We couldn't look each other in the eyes. 10 years we lived together that way. My siblings and dad would try and intervene, but my mothers stubbornness, clearly passed onto me in whole, was immovable. I'm sure it hurt my family, and knowing that still haunts me. But it's something I couldn't do, even for them.
I probably shouldn't have held it all in so tightly, looking back. Sometimes I'd go into school and spend whole days not saying a word. To anyone that knew me from age 11-18, reading this, I hope you understand now why I was such a "weirdo". I wasn't taking the medication my therapists wanted me to take, despite funding it all privately without my parents knowing through my job at McDonalds. I loved that job, I worked as much as I could do afford my therapy appointments, I didn't want it showing up on my medicare card (despite myself separating from my parents one) or anyone knowing what I was doing. I tried to listen to them, but I struggled to find a therapist I connected with. And I did not want to take the meds and alter my mind. I didn't want to surrender control of the only thing I had left to control.
I want to take a short break to thank and appreciate myself for not allowing that negative experience to turn into a woman hating manosphere type, and to thank my dad for showing me every day that love and sensitivity makes the truest man there is.
Anyway, we weren't always like that, obviously. She always loved me, and I believe she still does. She loved her children fiercely, like a proud lioness.
One day driving home from a haircut I think, I was around 10 years old sitting in the front seat and a van didn't check it's blind spot and nearly rammed into us, on the side that my little brother and I were sitting in. Mum was so mad and yelled "MY KIDS ARE IN THE CAR" and swerved into the side of the van in an attempt to try and drive him off the road. Attempted murder? Maybe. Did she do it through a blind rage induced by the potential harm to her child? Possibly. Was it just she was angry and had a short fuse? Probably. But that memory stuck with me.
I loved my mum so much. I was a big mummy's boy. You couldn't get me away from her. She was the light in my world, she was my safe space, she would always side with me even when she probably shouldn't have.
And after everything, I don't harbor a single negative feeling towards her. I don't think I'm any better than she is, I am half her after all. I guess that's a testament to the intangible love that exists between a mum and her child.
Now? I remember around 10+ years after that event, one of my ex's brought me lunch to my desk while working from home, and I collapsed into tears. I had to leave my meeting lol. I couldn't believe how nice that was. My mum would sometimes bring me food if I was busy studying or working.
I'm so lucky to know so many amazingly strong, intelligent, sweet, kind, caring and beautiful women in my life, a lot of you filled that void in my life, and I thank you for that.
To anyone reading this who might somehow be in a similar situation (I pray that you aren't, I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy), if you take nothing else away from this story, take this: Love your mother and allow her to love you. Forgive her. This is probably hurting her just as much as it is you.
Anyway, Somewhere Only We Know by Lily Allen is playing now and now I'm crying even more.
Love your mum, let her love you, appreciate her today and every day and protect her from every evil there is in this world the same way she did/could/would/should for you.
If, like me, you can't do that today, love mother nature, love your grandma, love your work mum, love your friend that has kids, love your neighbour who might not have kids that can/do visit her, or wanted to have kids but couldn't.
Just love somebody, do it every day, you don't need a day or an excuse to do it :)
I didn't expect this to get this long, I'm late to mow my lawn...
Love, D.
Reach out - I'd be happy to chat or share, about anything :) E: JustKeepTyping@Protonmail.com