I’m happy that I don’t have the memories from when I was younger
A little background… my mom married my dad when she was sixteen, he was nineteen. Well, twelve years of marriage and 4 kids later, she had an affair and ended up leaving my dad and her kids for the other man. My dad took the four of us and moved to Vegas. I was 6 at the time. I have a few memories from before they were separated, but don’t really have memories between the time I was six until was twelve. I subconsciously blocked out all the crappy stuff and all I know that went on during that time frame is what my family and close family friends have told me. Both my mom and my dad got remarried. My dad married a beautiful, smart woman who was a wonderful mom to her 2 kids and an amazing step mom and role model for us. My mom, on the other hand, married the man with whom she had the affair on my dad. He was an alcoholic. He was a druggie. He was always mad. He was never happy; nothing was ever good enough. He was abusive. He didn’t care about his own 4 children, let alone my mom’s kids. She never said a word when he would abuse her. She never said a word when he would abuse us.
So when I was 16, she finally decided to leave the asshole behind. He and his four kids moved out. It was just her and I in our humble abode. For the first time ever my mother was actually standing on her own two feet. She went from her parents to my dad to her second husband, but now she was starting to do this thing called life on her own. Things were actually starting to get better. Then Alex came along. The divorce was not even finalized before my mom was “in love”. He moved in. He was an alcoholic. He was a druggie. He didn’t care about his own two kids, let alone me. My mom started spending all of her time with him or doing things for him. She didn’t care where I was, when I was coming home, or if I was coming home. I would stay out some nights with friends just waiting for her to call me. I wanted to know if she cared. She didn’t. I never got the call. After about a month, I was practically living at my boyfriend’s house and called my mom about once a week to let her know I was alive. The phone conversation never lasted longer than five minutes.
Not long after he moved in, he was arrested and expedited to California for violating probation. Where did that leave my mom? Where did that leave me? I moved in with my grandma, she quit her job, and she was off to California to live with his mom while he sat in jail for an unknown amount of time. I remember the exact thought that went through my head when she left: I can’t believe she is abandoning me again.
She slipped right back into the drugs, alcohol, and abuse. After living with my grandma for about 3 months I moved back to Vegas with my dad. She never cared to call. She never cared to visit. Not even for holidays or birthdays. After a few years, they moved back to Arizona. That was just last year. I was 19. She landed a few trips to the hospital from “accidents” and “clumsiness” before she pressed charges and he spent a few months back in jail. She is still married to him to this day. She calls from time to time. It’s my turn to not want to call. It’s my turn to not want to visit.
I’m happy that I don’t have the memories from when I was younger. I wish that I could forget the memories from the past few years. For me it was easier to forget than it has been to forgive. I still haven’t forgiven her. I don’t think I ever really will. But when she was here for my brother’s graduation, when she randomly shows up at my house, at my grandpa’s 80th birthday, at my grandparents 50th anniversary – when I am forced to be where she is, I pretend that I forgave her. My family is very religious. They used to always tell me how wrong I am to hold it against her. I’m wrong to hold a grudge. Two rights don’t make a wrong. Everything that is so easy to say when it wasn’t you that sat on the porch and watched your mom leave you for a man that treated her like shit. I got sick of it, so I let everyone believe that I have forgiven her. The truth is I haven’t.
The problem is that I don’t know if I can’t, or if I won’t. Is there a difference?
Signed,
The Daughter you don’t know hates you
Las Vegas