Laying it Down at the Cross

I recently went to a women’s retreat up in Prescott for 3 days. This women’s retreat is different than most retreats. The best way I can describe it is an intense, intimate weekend with God. I had already attended the retreat as a first timer, so I was back to volunteer on the team. Every time I have gone, I somehow manage to come back loving God even more. My job on this retreat was to give a talk about Christian Leadership to these women. Saturday was the day I was speaking. I woke up very early Saturday morning to see that God had given me a gift. At least I thought it was only for me. I went to bed with it being cold and a chance of snow. However, there was no snow. I woke up at 4:30 on Saturday morning and immediately went to the window in my cabin. My eyes looked upon a glorious site, something I hadn’t seen in 14 years, snow! Okay, I have seen snow since then, but it’s always been on a mountain, or I catch the last remnants of it melting away. There was a lot of snow, it had snowed at least 3 inches while I was sleeping and the snow was coming down pretty hard. I hurried up and got ready so I could go outside. Everything was beautiful, white, fresh and very quiet in the early morning hours. I stood in the snow and just let the flakes fall on me, watched them melt on my hands. I just kept thanking God silently in my heart. I felt so happy and I knew it was going to be a good day. Little did I know exactly how the entire day would go.

I talked about what it meant to be a leader in the Christian world. I also talked about how I didn’t feel very equipped to be a leader because I was so flawed. I have always struggled with being transparent, I’m a very private person and tend to shut people out of my life. I have gotten better, but me standing up there talking about my imperfections was nerve wrecking. But, I knew in order to effectively speak to these women, I had to open up. I talked about how I struggled with depression and suicidal thoughts. I talked about my anger issues. I only touched on a little of my mother and her death and had not intended to add any more to the talk. The night before I was to speak, I knew I had to add a little bit more about my mother. I explained to them that forgiveness was something I really struggled with. Through Christ, I had forgiven my mother for not being there when I was growing up. I broke down in tears as I explained to them how my mother was gone now and that she had lost her life in a domestic violence situation. Barely able to speak through my tears, I also told them that I wasn’t ready to forgive the man who took her life. I knew I needed to, but had chosen to hold on to it for almost 2 years. And there was a part of me that hated him immensely for taking her life and taking her away from me. Although my relationship with her was not perfect and I hadn’t spoke to her in awhile, I still felt he took something away from me.
After my talk, I still felt nauseous. I was unsure why. The upset stomach lasted all day. God was up to something big. That night at dinner we heard a prayer about forgiveness for all the hurts in our life. Me, being the person not wanting to show any more emotion than I had already shown for the day, tried to hold in the tears as I heard the words of the prayer. I was at that moment fighting God about what was going on. I knew what was going on and even at a retreat I choose to fight God. That’s just my nature, I always want to fight. But He always wins, no matter what. I don’t know why I still keep fighting after all this time, but I do.

After dinner we went to the Chapel. I had to run to my room for something and arrived late in the chapel. There in the chapel was a wooden cross laid down on the ground with hammer, nails, and paper. One of the women spoke about leaving your burdens at the cross, giving them up to God. I sat there just thinking about my life and how holding on to hating my mother’s husband was not doing me any good. It seemed like an eternity that I sat there with that blank piece of paper in my hand, just staring at it. I finally worked up the courage to ask for a pen. The lady I asked was in the middle of writing something. I pleaded with her quickly that I needed that pen and I needed it now. Hands shaking, I wrote one word on that paper: BOBBY. My legs felt like they weighed a million pounds as I walked up to that cross. I felt that every eye was on me. Two bangs of the hammer, his name was nailed to that cross.

As I sat back down, I was still feeling like I was going to throw up. Silently pleading with God, I was asking what more did He want? I guess I just expected this immediate response and my burden lifted. But my shoulders still felt so heavy. I was emotionally exhausted and just didn’t know how much I could handle that day. Another person got up and spoke about how those things on the cross are covered by the blood of Christ. I didn’t hear a lot of what they said. I was still silently talking to God, very focused on this conversation I was having. The only part I heard was the person talking about how the healing process is now starting and if people choose to share what they wrote on that paper, they were welcome to, that we were all believers in Christ and we hold each other up. At that moment I knew why I was still nauseous. And of course, I was still fighting God. I know, I’m stubborn. Blame my father’s genes for that. Silently in my head I’m saying, “I’m NOT getting up there and speaking about what I put on that cross.” I just felt God saying, “Trust Me. Trust Me.”

I don’t know how long I sat there, but I was one of the last people to get up. Again, my legs felt so heavy and I felt that all eyes were on me. My words went something like this: Just a few hours ago, I said I wasn’t ready to forgive the man who took my mother’s life. But by holding onto it, it’s not making me a better person and it’s just eating and eating away at me. Through tears, once again, I managed to say his name is Bobby and I put his name on that cross.

After that, the upset stomach went away and my shoulders felt lighter. I am on the road to healing and it feels…just awesome.

Bobby Martin, I forgive you for taking my mother’s life.

“When you hold resentment toward another, you are bound to that person or condition by an emotional link that is stronger than steel. Forgiveness is the only way to dissolve that link and get free.”

~Catherine Ponder

Domestic Violence Hits Home

One year ago today, my mother lost her life in a domestic violence situation. I try not to make a habit of saying she was killed. It makes me cringe to say that. I feel like the word kill is such an ugly word. But the truth of the matter is that this whole situation is just ugly and saying she was killed is nothing but the ugly truth.

For reasons unknown to me, her death is still under investigation. Everyone knows what happened, her husband took her life, and he had been abusing her for so long, we all expected to happen. It hurt still beyond words when the moment came and she was gone. I keep saying I just want closure, I just the investigation to end, justice to be served, and for it to be all over. Kristine says that maybe me not knowing what happened in the last minutes of her life are a form of closure for me. I am not okay with that answer right now, maybe one day I will be.

I’m pretty proud of myself for being able to “keep it” together today. I’ve not shed one tear today. Granted its only 1:00, so the day is still young. Truth is I’m not okay today; I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping a wall up and keeping my emotions in check. I can’t sit here and say that I’ve forgiven myself for walking away from her when I did. Sometimes I hate myself for not being there for her. Could I have saved her? I don’t know. I try not to spend my days dwelling on the woulda, coulda, shoulda, but it still crosses my mind frequently.

I can’t sit here and say I’ve forgiven him either for what he has done, and I truly hate him. Hate is another ugly word, isn’t it? Hate and anger go hand in hand. Not only do I hate him, I am still very angry at him. He killed my mother 5 days before her birthday; he took away her precious life. He took away her watching my nephew grow up, or the chance to see her children get married, or the opportunity to smell another flower, see another sunset, laugh at a joke, everything. He took the opportunity away for her and I to ever have another chance at a relationship. All that we take for granted in our lives, he took that away from her. She told me numerous times that he loved her. He even told me he loved her so much. One phone call with him, I couldn’t take it anymore. I told him if he had any kind of love for my mother, he would not be putting his hands on her. And yet he continued to abuse her till the very end. One day the anger and hate will fade away and I’ll be able to say honestly that I’ve forgive him, but now I can’t. It’s too fresh in my mind.

I changed my picture on Facebook to a purple ribbon. October is Domestic Violence Month and since her anniversary is today, I decided to keep that picture up till November 1st to not only honor my mother, but to spread domestic violence awareness. I am also wearing a purple ribbon today on my shirt at work for my mom. I wanted to do something for her and that is what I came up with. I was giving $ to the Michigan Coalition against Domestic Violence, but had to stop lately due to finances. She can still be remembered, with or without money.

I can’t stress enough that if you are being abused or you know someone being abused to get the proper help. There are so many ways to get help, if you just seek it out. Women who think a man loves them by abusing them, they think that nothing will ever happen to them, and they don’t seek help will probably end up like my mother with her life taken from her all too fast. I don’t want someone else to be a statistic; my mother is hard enough to swallow.

I miss her desperately, just knowing she’s not around gives me an empty feeling.

Domestic Violence

This time of year, you start to see a lot of pink. Pink clothes, pink utensils, pink packaging on products we buy, pink ribbons, pink everywhere. All of this signifies Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Although, I feel this is something we should constantly think about, not just when October rolls around. October is the month to educate people on this issue.

I think Breast Cancer is a serious issue, I know people who have dealt with it. However, October is also known as other awareness issues. For my job, I always have to look up monthly awareness things for a newsletter I put together. Every month, I do to do a "theme" with my newsletter. My newsletter this month was "Tackling Hunger" month, which is also something that takes place in October.

But there's still one more awareness issue that hits to the very depth of my soul. October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Last year, I was attending college at the main campus and in the library, there are all these wooden cut outs of people who are painted red. These cut outs have no eyes, no distinguishing marks. But taped to each of their chests is a story of someone who has lost their life to domestic violence. I remember seeing them last year and my heart just aching as I ran my hand over a stranger's story. It ached because it was something my mother was experiencing in her life.

She's gone now. She's been gone about a month and a half. Her death is probably being ruled an accident. However, my sister, myself, and anybody else who knew her, knew her situation knows it wasn't an accident. Maybe it was, but she was fighting with her abusive husband when it happened. My mother has become one of those faceless women that is plastered all over my college. A constant reminder of her sufferings.

Here are some chilling stats for you to soak in, taken from http://www.azcadv.org/, although they aren't too current. I'm sure the statistics have risen. :

• An estimated 4.5 million physical assaults are committed against U.S. women by intimate partners annually.
  
• Eight-five percent of domestic violence victims are women.
  
• Violence against women is present in every country, cutting across boundaries of culture, class, education, income, ethnicity, and age.
  
• On average, more than three women are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends in this country everyday.

If this is happening to you, get help. There are resources out there to help you get away, help you start a new life. Don't think this person loves you, even though they are beating you. They don't. No matter what happened, my mother wouldn't leave him. She did once momentarily, but went back to him. She once told me that he beat her up so bad one Christmas, that she thought she was going to die. From that point forward, she told me she never celebrated Christmas because she always remembered that one beating.

My mother swore her husband loved her, swore he didn't mean to hit her. He, himself, told me how much he loved my mother, how much he loved God. I told him if he loved my mother as well as God, he wouldn't be beating my mother. She never got help. Now, she is dead...

I never expected to care

I never expected to care when I heard the news. It had been years since I had any type of contact with her. My life was going great, I was moving on from the hurt and pain she caused and realized I was better off without her in my life.

The her I am referring to is my mother, whom I affectionately refer to as her first name, Pam. And our relationship (or lack of) was an odd one. We didn't have a relationship. But not having her in my life has affected me more than I can ever begin to explain. But my mother was a severe alcoholic and was in an abusive marriage. She had no intention of getting help for either one. And so, I couldn't help her. We reconnected for a short time, but I eventually realized that I couldn't have a relationship with her. I was always the one keeping in contact with her, I was always the one working to keep the relationship going. She always used the excuse that she wasn't a good communicator, but my thinking was that if she cared at all, she would make the effort. It came to a point where I couldn't handle her or her situation any more and pushed her out of my life. It didn't take much, she made no effort to stay in my life.

Every day, there was a part of me that expected the news of her death. I always said I didn't know what would kill her first: the alcohol or her husband.

I had a great day on Friday. Kristine had a football game for school to attend. That left me and her son to hang out for the evening. Kristine took a nap after school so she would be refreshed for the game. She woke up discombobulated and I could see she was clearly out of it. She didn't tell me till later, that she felt something was wrong. Her son and I went to Tempe Town Lake to view the 9/11 Memorial. It was a good evening and we had a good time. So far, my day is still going good. Justin and I get some dinner and I help him look up something on the Internet.

In seconds, my world would change. I came into my room and logged into my email to find that my mother had passed away on Thursday. It didn't register at first, I had to re-read the first line of the message again, "Your mother died last night." The walls of my chest closed in again and I was struggling to breathe. I stood up and braced my desk. Moments later the tears fell. And they continued to fall for quite some time. She's gone, she's really gone. My mother is dead.

The details to her death are haunting me and will for some time. Her death is under investigation and for respect of Pam, I'm not going to write what happened. As of right now, I still don't know her death was caused by her drinking or her husband.

I tried to save her from the live she lived.

I tried to get her to stop drinking.

I tried to get her to leave her husband who was abusing her. I even had the phone number of a police station near her as well as a battered women's shelter for when she decided she was ready.

I tried to get her on a plane for a visit in Arizona. But I knew I wasn't going to let her get back on the plane to Michigan. She never came, instead she ended up in the hospital.

I tried to tell her about Jesus. I bought her a Bible, she said it was a nice book and looked colorful on the bookshelf.

I tried to have a relationship with her.

I tried, I tried, I tried. And now she's gone and it's too late.

I have experienced a lot of things in the 32 years I have been alive. Different kinds of pain. Both of my grandparents who raised me have died. But the pain I am experiencing is a whole new level that I have never felt before.

The pain of losing an actual parent. It hurts. It hurts really bad. It hurts like nothing I have known before. Yesterday at the doctor's office, the nurse asked me if both of my parents were still alive. I hestitated and swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat and said, "No. My mother just died."

I never expected to care so much about the death of woman that I really didn't know. I never expected to grieve for losing her twice (once for our relationship and now her death).

She was 55 years old and is no longer suffering from the life that held her captive.

Dates that stick in your head

I'm one of those type of people who pretty much remembers dates. I keep up on birthdays, anniversaries, etc. I do admit to putting everything in my Yahoo calendar, but when I get the reminder about a birthday, etc., coming up, I say to myself, "Yep, I already knew that." Because the date is literally engrained into my head. I'm very odd like that. How about this date, 11/8/2006, that was the day I came down with Dengue Fever. Yes, seriously...I am a maniac when it comes to dates.

Then there are other dates you remember:

The date someone you knew passed away.
The date your animal passed away.
The date that the planes hit the World Trade Center, Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania.
The date Kennedy was shot.
The date you got something you really wanted, etc.
The date Martin Luther King Jr. gave his famous "I Have a Dream Speech".
The list could go on and on. In 12 days, it will be September 15th. I was going to make this a future post, but decided to go ahead and post it now. As of right now, I have no clue what this day is going to bring. It could be a monumental day in history, it could be another day. But looking at my life, this is what September 15th means to me as of 9/3/2008. In 12 days, many people will be celebrating a birthday. September 15th is Pam's birthday and Pam would be my mother. Even though I have no intention of celebrating this day, nor do I plan on calling her and wishing her Happy Birthday, it's a date that I can't seem to get out of my head. I honestly want to forget it...

For those of you who don't know...let's just say my relationship with her is odd, and that is putting it very lightly. I don't intend on going into extreme details about my relationship or lack there of on this blog. If you know me...you're a close friend of mine, then you've heard this story before. You know I have serious "mom" issues.

It's been over a year since I've spoken to her. That's actually a short time seeing at I went a good portion of my life (15+ years) without ever hearing from her. My life is so much less complicated without her in it. I don't do complication very well. I've come to realize that I don't have a mother and the only mother I have was my grandmother who is now deceased. Sure, Pam gave birth to me, but does that earn her the title of mother? I don't think so, every time I called her mom in recent years...I cringed. And I only said "mom" because I knew it was something she wanted to hear. She wasn't there when I had my first kiss, she wasn't there to kiss my sores when I fell off my bike, she wasn't there when I went to my first formal, she wasn't there to discipline me when I got out of line, she simply was not there. She literally had absolutely no hand in raising me at all.

Most of my friends are close to their mothers, very close. All the more reason for me to have issues. I find myself getting so jealous of their relationships with their moms because I never had that mother bond you experience. In cases of my friends moms usually one of these things will happen: they immediately "adopt" me as one of their family members or I "cling" to them in hopes that they will be my stand-in mother. Unfortunately because of so many mother figures in my past not being there for me when I needed a mom figure, no matter who takes me into their family, I will push them away, little by little.

I am very fearful of my heart being hurt and the love I never felt from my mother was one of my biggest hurts my heart has felt. I'm afraid for someone to love me, but more afraid that they will make me feel the same way that Pam has made me feel. Which by the way, is a way I NEVER want to feel again in my life. Have you ever experienced the feeling of your own parents not loving you? It hurts beyond comprehension and unless you have gone through this, you really can't begin to understand how deep the pain hurts. I'm 31 years old and that woman and the way she made me feel unloved has affected my entire life.

Jason's mom, Kristine's mom, Becky's mom have all offered to love me and try to be my surrogate mother as much as I will let them . And I can sit here and say that NONE of them have upset me and they will all be there in a heartbeat if I needed them too. But, there's that little part of me is very afraid something will happen and another piece of my heart will be broken. I don't require a mom figure 24/7, I'm an independent woman, and I've been on my own for a long time. But sometimes....I just need a mom, an older woman to love on me, to give me advice. I need that person to make me feel... not so alone. Because many times, I feel so, so alone in my world. Usually, I feel as though I'm a bother by telling them I need them. And so...most of the time, in fact almost all the time, I don't say anything to them. I know that's not right, they are there willing to help, but it's me pushing them away, crawling into my little "I can deal with this" hole.

I know it's not a way to deal with things, but it's the way I am, the way I am wired. I guess because of my past history and my serious trust issues, the only way I know to deal with things is to go into my room, shut the door, pray that God would shed some light on the situation, and cry myself to sleep. It seems to work for the most part. I don't tell these women, who are ready to help, that I need them..somehow I move past whatever issue I'm dealing with. I just can't seem to 100% open up to them.

But I can't help to feel a void...a mom void.

Oh mother

So, Sunday is Mother's Day. Not really one of my favorite holidays. As most of you know, I have "mom" issues, so I don't really even celebrate this day. Mother's Day will mark one year since I have spoken to my mother. My last phone call to her on Mother's Day last year consisted of her asking me what I wanted when I called, my response was "Uh...Happy Mother's Day?" She promptly told me that she was busy and hung up the phone. Okay, so I haven't spoken to her since. She's pushed me away, even though I tried not to let her, and honestly my life is less complicated with her in it. Now, you don't know the whole story, and I'm not going to go into it, so don't assume you do know and give me issues about not speaking to my mother anymore. Sorry, if I am coming off rude, but it's the truth. Very few people actually know the entire story, most can see why I don't talk to her, some can't. In the time she was in my life, I would try to be the good daughter and send her cards for this day, her birthday, Christmas or just because. Yesterday as I was glancing over the Mother's Day cards for my "surrogate" mom, I was brought back to a place where I would try to find a card for my mother during those 4 years. It was a bittersweet moment as I won't be sending anymore to her, but I also remembered how hard it was to find a card for her. The good ones always said something like, "Mother, you've been such an inspiration to me." or "Mother, you've raised me to be a wonderful woman." or "Mother, I don't know where I would be if it weren't for you." You know...things I really can't relate to and would always settle for a generic card. I hated buying cards for her, I really did. Sometimes even buying cards for my dad became grueling, although he was somewhat in my life growing up. Hallmark should have a section for me and other people, titled "There's a Little Disfunctional Family in All of Us", I could even write cards for them. I bet I would make money,lots of it!!!

In the past year, I've been slowly learning about how to let my friend's mom love me, be my mother figure, learning to open up to her more. It has not been easy for me, due to my part and being stubborn, and desperately wanting that affection from my actual mother that I was getting from her. Reazling that I will never receive the affection from my mom that I receive from my surrogate mom. And learning to accept that, be grateful for that, realizing how blessed I am by God to have her in my life, here in Arizona. And when I don't see my friend for a few weeks, I really miss him, but you know what, I really miss his family as well, especially his mom. I made myself a part of the family whether my friend wanted me to or not. I mean seriously...she's got a house full of men (hubby and two sons with another son out of state), she needs another woman around as her daughter in law lives out of state as well, to help balance out the family. Every once in awhile we have some girl time and just go to As You Wish and paint. We both love that. That reminds me, we are so overdue for a girl day.

I know I have told her this, and I will tell her again and again: Kathy, you're the best mom and I love you! I can't begin to explain how you have helped me this year, helped me grow, helped me find myself a little more. You believe in me and encourage me and inspire me to be a better woman.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms!

Quotes of the day: "Being a full-time mother is one of the highest salaried jobs...since the payment is pure love." ~Mildred B. Vermont

"A mother's love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible." ~Marion C. Garretty

Can I get an order of mom with a side of dad please?

Happy Monday everyone! How are you doing? I’m pretty fantastic! It rained all day yesterday and although I’m quite fond of the rain, I just couldn’t seem to get warm yesterday. Alma School in Mesa is flooded again. I’m sure there will be people, who will drive through a flooded area, and they will get stuck and the police or fire will have to rescue them. Ladies and gentlemen, that is what we call the Stupid Motorist Law. It actually exists here in good ol’ Arizona. My dad just called to see if I was okay, said he saw Arizona on the news all the way in Florida because of the rain. He just told me not to be stupid and drive through water. Oh Dad, you’re so caring. I told him I’m not that stupid, but there are people who are.

So, yesterday J and I hit up Poiema Church again. I have to be honest in saying, I was a little anxious about going again yesterday. We haven’t been in two weeks and just because we had an awesome first time experience there, doesn’t mean we would have another one. I just didn’t know if I could handle trying to look for another church. I’m the type of gal who needs stability and I really don’t want to constantly explore other churches. But, despite the fact they had technical difficulties, everything was still awesome. I’m really enjoying it. And although I’m adult and I’m perfectly capable of going alone, I’m enjoying going with J. It’s nice to sit with someone in church, especially one of my closest friends. I don’t feel so alone.

Yesterday, I was looking for a blank CD in my room and came across letters from my mother. I have every single letter she’s written me. But I couldn’t force myself to read them, again. I just couldn’t do it. I knew I would get upset and start crying. All her letters of regret, how much she loves me, yet I haven’t spoken to her since May. I, for some reason, can’t throw them away either. She’s managed to do what she does best, push people away, push me away, the daughter she hasn’t spoken to for most of my life. I am beginning to think that I’m mentally better off without her. Life is so much less complicated without her in it. I have stated before that the 4 years she was back in my life, she caused more grief than the other 26 years I’ve been alive. My roomie told me on Saturday that I tend to cling to parental figures too quickly. Yes, I suppose that is true. She also reminded me that I’m an adult and I don’t really need a parental figure to answer to. No, I don’t really need to answer to anyone but God. However, I yearn for that affection of a parental love or getting their opinion on something, it’s a thing I haven’t felt in 8 years. And even though I’m an adult, I pay my own bills, whatever; I still deserve to have a set of “parents” that give me love and affection. The closest thing I have right now is J’s parents. And I’m perfectly okay with that, I so love them. They make me feel more loved than my actual mom and dad do. I am learning how to love my dad, his faults, everything. But it has taken me a long time to be his “daughter”, half of the time; I’m more the parent to him. This is frustrating. Yesterday, in church the pastor said something that struck a chord with me. He talked about not growing up without a father and said he’s determined that God gave you the parents he gave you to make you the person you are now. I know that’s true, I get that. Things would be so different if I had been raised by my parents. I can honestly say that I probably wouldn’t be alive right now. I probably would have killed myself or gotten myself killed. But God, gave me my grandparents, who raised me in a stable home, forced me to get good grades, disciplined me when needed, made me the woman I am today with not an influence whatsoever from my mom or dad. I had a great childhood, no regrets. I miss my grandparents terribly, especially my grandma. We were really close.

So this past week, I did something I’ve never done before, I finished reading the entire Bible. In all my time of being a Christian, I had yet to read the entire Bible. And, I’ve done it. I’m quite proud of myself. I feel so accomplished and God has definitely shown me many things through His word. I somehow feel stronger in my faith, yet still wanting to thirst for more. With that said, I’m going to do a 90 day reading plan. I attempted to do it once, but I was doing it alone and failed. I definitely need someone to hold me accountable. So, I’m going to do it and if anyone is interested in doing it with me, here is the website, www.biblein90days.com. I will not lie when I say it’s A LOT to read and if you miss a day, you’re in trouble. Let me know if you’re interested! We’ll hold each other accountable. I’m starting February 1^st.

Anyways, gotta go. Have a great day!

Bran :)

Quote of the day:Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh?” he whispered. “Yes, Piglet?” “Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw. “I just wanted to be sure of you.” ~A.A. Milne

Oh mother

I guess I have always known this, but I'm coming to realize it even more recently, I have "mom" issues. For the past two weeks in Bible Study we have talked about things like forgiveness and acceptance. And last night, it really came about. I without a doubt have some serious "mom" issues. I know most of you can't relate to this because your mother happens to be around. This will be a long post. But here is what I am dealing with:

The only mother figure I had in my life was my grandma. She's had me since I was 4. I loved her and we were very close, but she was always my grandma, not my mom. This person has been gone for almost 7 years now. I miss her and there isn't a day where I don't think about her. She raised me and has shaped me into the adult that I am today. I thought she was hard on me growing up, but looking back I can see why she was so strict on me.

Then we have Pam, who is my biological mother. She wasn't around at all while I was growing up. I honestly went 20 years or so without seeing her or hearing from her. About 4 years ago, I decided to find her. Which is a huge praise. I had prepared myself for the worst and the best of the situation, the worst- she wanted nothing to do with me, the best- she wanted to have a relationship with me. But I DID NOT prepare myself for anything else like the fact that she's a serious alcoholic and she's married to a man who has been abusing her for most of their marriage. I honestly don't know what is going to kill her first, the alcohol or her husband. She won't get help for either situation. It's strange talking to her because she's my mother, but she's trying to find out about me and I often remember she's a complete stranger to me. I find it weird and uncomfortable to call her mom, because for so long I referred to her Pam. I am aware of the fact that I still have some anger and forgiveness issues with her. She wasn't there for the milestones in my life, it was always grandma. But she's my mother and I'm learning to love her. But she has caused me a lot of grief in the four years she has been back in my life. Probably the most grief I've experienced in the whole 30 years I've been alive.

Then there's Karen. She married my dad a long time ago. Five years ago, my 18 year old cousin was killed in a car accident. My dad was the only one who was able to attend her funeral. Karen called my dad the day of my cousin's funeral and said she wanted a divorce. Right after she did that, she called me to explain her side of the story before my dad called me. Her side? She screwed around on my father. Okay fine. I was never a big fan of Karen and wasn't upset that she wouldn't be around. I never once called her mom and can remember how much I despised that woman growing up. I kept in contact with her after the divorce for the sake of my brother and sister. I told Karen, I did not want to be in the middle of the divorce and not to down talk my dad. He's not the greatest of people, but he's my father and I wouldn't put up with her talking bad about him. She kept talking about him and I lost contact with her on purpose. So my little sister is telling me that she says I'm crazy for getting in contact with Pam. My mother and my stepmother have never met, by the way. She's also saying Pam didn't care about me when I was younger why would she care about me now as well as Karen was the closest thing I had to a mother. Whatever.

Think I'm done? Nope, there's one more, Donna. I have known her for a few years now. I went to Chile with her and Dominican Republic with her and her husband. They have decided to "adopt" me as one of their daughters. Okay, I'm cool with that. I really want to have "parental figures" that love me and care for me. But recently she has been doing what everybody else has been doing, letting me down. It has just been various things with her.

So, a combination of all these things as well as some unspoken issues with them is the reason I have "mom" issues. I don't know what it's like to have that mother/ daughter bond. I have no clue what it means when you say "I just need my mom." when something goes wrong or your sick. It's all foreign to me. And I'm honestly jealous of people who have a good relationship with their mom. I know I shouldn't be, but try to put yourself in my shoes. This post is not a "Woe to Brandy" post, but more of a try to understand what's in Brandy's head.