Kyla

From an early age we can identify basic things that we have in common with our mothers. Things like similar taste in music, or liking the same deserts. And for some of us, that story is a little different. For a better part of my life I was told that I was nothing like my mom. Living with my father and stepmom, I didn’t have the chance to have a relationship with my mom. I was only able to see her a few times a year and we barely spoke on the phone. Keeping in mind she lived seven hours away, but nonetheless it was hard. It was like this until I was thirteen years old and then I wasn’t even allowed to speak to her let alone see her when I was supposed to. Knowing not much about her except for the lies I had been told my whole life, I didn’t think we were anything alike and what could I possibly have learned from her?

Seven long years went by and I was no longer living with my father, for reasons that take too long to explain, and I was finally free. After a few weeks and some real thought, I reached out to my mom. Very hesitant at first because after not speaking for so long I thought she hated me. After that first day of talking again, we talked almost everyday for hours and hours on end. And then finally my whole life made sense.

Growing up in a house like I did there was no room to have your own opinions or to stand your own ground. But there was something in me that wouldn’t allow me to stay quiet. I never once got walked all over. I thought it, I said it. There was no time to allow it to filter. Most people tell me I don’t have a filter. I get that from my mom. In high school it never fails for a teenager to feel self conscious about the way they look. Not me. I mean sure I didn’t like some of the clothes I was made to wear but that wasn’t something I could control. But I never really cared about what people thought. If they didn’t like something, I told them not to look. I wasn’t there to impress anyone, and I got that from my mom.

But at the time I didn’t know where any of this came from, nobody taught it to me. Nobody told me I had to be that way it’s just the way it was. So seven years later when I started talking to her again I finally saw where it came from; where I came from. Even when she wasn’t around, my mom was the reason for so many things I had learned in my life because I got them from her. Even now that I live closer to my mom and we have a relationship, I’ve learned so many more things from her. She’s one of the strongest people I know. Even through some of the worst times in her life, she’s made sure her kids never struggled. Or when she’s having a bad day, she still reaches out to make sure her kids are doing alright. She’s also one of the most selfless people I know.

And these are the things that’s she’s taught me.

Like when I had the worst morning sickness in the early stages of my pregnancy and I didn’t even want to move let alone eat. She reminded me that my baby needed me to eat. So I’d wake up feeling gross and I’d still eat. Or when past friends of mine would manipulate stories of situations against me and others would become angry at me. My mom reminded me that them twisting stories was against their character, not mine. And that their opinions of me based on lies were invalid. My moms taught me to stand up for what I believe in, even if it’s against the majority. And that the choices I make are not to impress other people, but to improve my life. So I shouldn’t allow others opinions of my choices make me feel as though I should change them.

Quite honestly I don’t even know if this sums everything up. When your mom has taught you basically everything you live by, it’s hard to break it down into a piece of writing or a few measly points. Because the easiest way to say what my mom has taught me and done for me is to say “She’s the woman that made me, me.”