A Childhood Lost, a Love Denied

My childhood memories are a tapestry woven with loneliness, a stark contrast to the carefree joy most children experience. Simple pleasures like playing in the mud or by the creek resulted in harsh punishments. Toys, meant for exploration and imagination, were kept pristine on display shelves, untouchable.

My mother fulfilled the most basic needs - a roof, food, and clothes - but emotional connection was absent. No hugs, no playtime, no whispered "I love yous." While seemingly well-provided for, I felt a deep emptiness.

As a teenager, the truth of my situation became painfully clear. My mother had poisoned my relationships with my extended family, painting a picture of me as unlovable and unworthy. Years were spent mending those bridges, but some connections were severed forever.

My father, an alcoholic, offered a different kind of solace. He loved me unconditionally, but his affection fueled my mother's resentment. She manipulated his drunken rage, turning it toward me. Bruises became a constant companion, hidden with long sleeves and makeup.

The authorities were called numerous times, but the cycle continued. My mother painted me as the problem, reinforcing the self-doubt that gnawed at me. I was too ashamed to ask anyone to help me. I felt like nobody cared because that is what she had always told me.

Even after marriage and starting my own family, the abuse continued. We were evicted from our home, which belonged to my parents, and faced false accusations and threats. The constant stress led to anti-depressants and crippling anxieties.

The final betrayal came at my father's funeral. While I grieved, my mother showered affection on a troubled boy she took in. This pattern repeated with another troubled individual, all while she ostracized her own grandchildren. She refuses to acknowledge them even on holidays and birthdays, using me as her excuse. "It's always my fault."

She has stolen opportunities from me that could have helped me in so many ways. She has taken money that my family desperately needed. She cheated me out of my inheritance, but most of all she stole my innocence. She denied me a childhood, a life that every child deserves to have.

The question that echoed throughout my life: Why? Why couldn't she love me?

Years later, as my mother's health declined, I tried to reconcile. But old patterns resurfaced, leading to more pain. Finally, after an immense internal struggle, I had to prioritize my own well-being and let go. I haven't spoken to her in years, yet I still love her in a twisted and confusing way. Sometimes I wish that I could hate her, it'd be so much easier.

The judgment stings, the knowledge that she'd rather see her belongings lost than benefit me. Yet, amidst the scars, a flicker of strength remains. I have built a life filled with love, a stark contrast to the one she offered.

It's been a long journey, 48 years to be exact, to understand that her actions were not a reflection of my worth. She carries her own pain, one that manifests in cruelty. I may never understand, but I can choose to heal.

And heal I have. I've learned self-acceptance and self-love, something she can never take away. This journey of rediscovery allowed me to find that scared, lonely child within and finally embrace her with the love she deserves.

I have done something amazing, I became a published author and won several awards for my writing, yet my mother has never read a single word that I have written. The voice that should be cheering loudest remains silent. But that's okay.

Published author, award winner – seemingly everything a writer could dream of. But the question lingers: will my mother ever crack open a page and see the world I've created? Or will these achievements remain unseen, unheard, a story untold to her? A single reader's absence cuts deep: my mother. Her silence speaks volumes, a constant undercurrent in my symphony of success.

I may always live with the physical and mental scars that she has left me with. I may always wake up in the middle of the night crying, and I'll probably never understand but I have found myself and nobody will ever hurt that little girl (still alive within me) again.

For everything that she has taken and stolen from me, I will replace it with something stronger and better.