The writing prompt I chose from this week's Moma Kat's is "Ten things my mother taught me." When I initially saw the prompt, I thought it read the things my mother taught me, as opposed to ten things. I don't know if I can think up ten things. You see, I suppose most people might think this post is going to be a sentimental and sweet dedication to my mother, but it's not. My mother, quite bluntly, is not anyone to get sentimental or sweet over. Parents like John Locke's (LOST) father and Behrooz Araz's (24) father, do exist. They're very much like my mother; I was, and will always be, expendable to my mother - literally. And unfortunately, so was, and is, my son - her grandson.
By being a horrid mother, she taught me resiliency and strength. Somehow, without love from any of my family, I kept on. I have no idea why. I suppose I was born with a strong soul, but through my childhood, I became stronger and more resilient.
She also taught me creativity and imagination, because to escape the reality of my childhood, I went inward. I created a world in which I was an adult and actually had choices and love. My fantasies and daydreams were always based on reality, so they were/are quite believable. No flights of fancy here...except maybe in my crafting. :)
I was also taught independence. I couldn't count on anyone; no one had my back, so to speak. So I pretty much go it alone. Oh, I'd love to work on a project or goal with a group of people, but for some reason, I end up doing it all myself. Not sure why. Maybe I choose busy or lazy people, so I create a self fulfilling prophecy of always feeling alone? Not sure.
She taught me how not to be a mother! I did go through some therapy so I wouldn't pass on a bunch of baggage to my son. I'm not a perfect mother, but I have to admit - finally - that I did a good job. I also distinctly remember the day in therapy, when my son was playing on the floor, and the therapist asked him a question. I can't even remember what the question was now, but I remember crying as soon as he said his answer because it was a very significant answer. (He was around eight years old at the time). The therapist looked up at me and smiled. She said, simply: "You've broken the cycle."
I also learned to be very nurturing - but not through my mother's example. I had to mother myself, and sometimes I had to be her mother when she'd have yet another pity party or ranting and raving, saying how I should've never been born and how much trouble it is to be a single mom.
Those are positive things my mother taught me. There are, of course, negative ones. I tend to be a loner because I've had to be. I tend to not want to be a bother to people, so it's easy for me to jump to conclusions since I had to always be hyper aware of my environment and try to be as invisible as possible.
I learned how horrible words can hurt and how just as horribly emotional abandonment can hurt as well.
While she was a horrible person - and still is - I'm glad she was my mother because I became a stronger person for it.