Tame My Tongue, Humble My Spirit

I could have been a dumpster baby.

I could've been sold for a dime bag or lost in the foster care system. But I wasn't, and I am eternally grateful for my mother's discernment and morale when deciding on what was best for my life. I know it couldn't have been easy.

When asked the question, “What are the most significant lessons your mother taught you?", my answer is "nothing". But if you ask me what I learned, well, that's a different story; it goes a little something like this.

My mother wasn't around much. I saw pieces of her, fragments. She made cameos like guest appearances on a sitcom. She's the "hear her before you see her" type. Loud entrances and even louder exits, a crescendo if you will. She makes her presence known and her absence felt. Her words of wisdom come in the form of catchphrases and remixed versions of bible verses. She is quite the character.

I was told that her absence was due to drugs, and the term "addiction" was often coupled with it. I didn't know what it meant, so I looked it up. Addiction: a disease in which a person finds themselves unable to stop using a substance or engaging in a behavior despite the negative consequences because that involvement is or was pleasurable. Dependency. Craving. At the age of 10 or 11, I thought to myself, "this is pretty serious".

I was angry for a while, but I honestly felt I had contracted those emotions from my older siblings who transmitted their ill feelings for my mother quite often. When I realized that those feelings didn't belong to me, I decided to build my own relationship with her so that I could develop a better understanding.

The transition

Although brief and infrequent, I looked forward to our phone-calls and sometimes we even wrote letters to each other. We learned that we both enjoy the soulful sounds from Maxwell and Babyface to Mary J. Blige and Yolanda Adams. We would sing some of our favorite songs together, followed by a few chuckles at how terrible we sounded!

Overtime, I no longer saw a drug-addicted person, but a lighthearted, childlike soul who missed a few hugs growing up, being told "I love you", and kisses on boo-boos. She was just lost in a substance induced state of conscious.

This was my intro class to compassion and empathy. I was raised by the same woman who raised my mother, so I may not have taken a walk in her shoes, but I at least wore her socks (sounds a bit gross but, you get the point). I could understand how she felt and was able to make the connection as to why. This is likely what led to my career path in social services.

It's not pity that I feel, but a deeper inner standing of life and the fact that it just hits some people harder than others. I can connect with my clients on a human level and not just throw textbook jargon at them and pat them on the back. I meet mothers, daughters, fathers, sisters, friends; I meet humans. Beautifully, flawed characters. Connecting with my mother has taught me how to relinquish judgement which allows me to perform better at my job and be a better person overall.

During those phone-calls with my mom, she would openly tell me parts of her story and often apologized for her absence. "I wanted to be there", she would say while in tears. "I just couldn't do it, but I love you and I've always loved you; I need you to know that".

I didn't really know what forgiveness was, but I knew what it meant to be human and make mistakes, no matter how big or small. I knew that it was unfair to continue to remind her and punish her for those mistakes. I knew she deserved for her story to be different, and I am one of the main characters that plays a role in making that happen. With each conversation and interaction, I chose to let go, little by little. I learned how to forgive.

If you can't find a way, make a way

My mother does not understand the word no.

Earlier in this story when I referred to her as a "childlike soul", I was also referring to her sometimes childlike behavior, and by no means do I mean that in a bad way.

When my mother wants or need something, her determination and persistence is stronger than Arnold Schwarzenegger and "The Hulk" combined! I remember the times I'd spend the day with my mother, and she would say she didn't have any money. She knew everyone in the neighborhood and would make several phone-calls asking for money. I'd even witnessed her make her friends stop dead in their tracks to ask for five dollars. After a few objections, they would give in to my mother's relentlessness. and peel off a few bills. Somehow, by the end of the day, she would make sure we go to the store to get my fruit rollup, flavored water, nacho Doritos and cheese sunflower seeds and have plenty of money left over. When she came to visit, she would arrive on foot and leave in a car. To me, she was a magician.

These may seem like simple examples, but to my mother, life really is that simple. If you want something, you go for it, and never accept no as the final answer. The spirit of a child.

"Tame my tongue and humble my spirit"

I'm not really sure where my mother got this phrase from, but it sounds like a remixed bible verse!

The relentless, childlike spirit my mother has also includes "never backing down". She is very vocal and will always speak up against any wrongdoing, whether it be against herself, family or a stranger. However, she isn't always confrontational. When approaching an uncomfortable situation or a possible conflict, she will say aloud "I ask God to tame my tongue and humble my spirit". This is her way of showing she's exercising self-control and avoiding conflict. From this, I have learned that not every action needs a reaction and sometimes, some things just don't need to be said. This has helped my transition into adulthood and still does. Whenever I encounter conflict, I listen to my mothers' voice in my head.

A different way of teaching

The lessons I learned from my mother didn't happen in a traditional way. There were no words of wisdom spewing from her mouth as we baked cookies on a Sunday. No talks of self-love and pride as I sat between her knees as she braided my hair. No, this was more like going to an art gallery: you stare intently, make observations and develop your own interpretation of what you see.

In an ideal world, things would be different. My mother could've been a doctor, a high school principal, an accountant or the manager at Wendy's. She could've been a hard-working mother of 6, showing up to our sports games and dance recitals, plan family trips and make sure we all had gifts under the tree every Christmas. She could teach us how to drive, how to tie our shoes, how to dance, how to make the families secret recipes, safe sex practices, don't do drugs, how to save money and properly do laundry. It didn't quite happen that way. And I'm grateful that it didn't.

I am grateful that despite all the challenges, the ridicule and guilt my mother has gone through, she chose life. She chose a life without substances and reconnected with her children to mend relationships and create new memories. I am grateful that she has remained consistent in our relationship and has been the most supportive, loving, present mother that I have always wanted and needed. She has truly taught me what unconditional love is.