Thank you, mother

The story of the relationship I possess with my mother is quite complicated. I have perhaps learned more in its nonexistence than in the moments and memories shared together.

It is my mother’s absence that has taught me the most valuable lesson of all: to endure.

Beginning from as early as I can remember my mother has struggled with addiction. Around the age of three, my father received full custody of me- a strict verdict made which banned any unsupervised contact between the two of us. I do not believe I have to elicit or illustrate the feelings that ensue when a child is separated from her mother.

In my youth, there was constant despair, disillusionment, and feelings of low self-esteem. How could she not want me - would echo the chambers of my mind and etch its fingerprints onto my young soul.

Through adolescence, however, the mirage began to become a bit clearer. Sheltered from the truth of her affliction I would briefly notice semblances of her inability to be there. She would disappear – even from phone calls- for days, sometimes months.

If there was a trip planned for her to visit me, with my father as a chaperone, she would not come- but worst of all she would not call. This cycle endured for many years causing separation and loneliness not only between her and I, but also my father alike. Trying to bridge the gap between a mother who constantly disappoints and a daughter who desperately seeks out her love and affection I can imagine was a tough brunt for a single father to bare.

In my adult years, my family was finally candid about her addiction. With time, the questions of my youth began to become answered. Soon logical questions became replaced with emotional and existential ones.

How could she have become addicted after having me? Was her love for me not enough to quit completely? How could she not miss me? How could she continue to put something before her desire to be a part of my life?

Often when addiction is discussed, it is illustrated from the perspective of the addict. There is little outlet or access for a young crying girl to understand the severity of her mother’s condition. There is also little discussion of the secondhand victims of addiction- deeply hurt, helpless, often alone.

As I’ve grown older our relationship is still quite strained- many would say marginal. The lessons and struggles of life have taught me the importance of understanding and acceptance.

Finally, being able to accept that the relationship I so desperately craved to have with my mother would never exist. Not wanting children, myself, I also had to accept the brunt of the fact that a mother- child relationship in a traditional sense is something I may never experience in this lifetime.

Age has also brought wisdom and forgiveness. I cannot say I have completely absolved all feelings and pain attached with the disappointments of my youth. But I can say I have forgiven enough to take stride in the lessons I have learned from my mother.

No matter how many times addiction may clench her by the heels and lead her back to its crutches, in her heart she does not give up.

She may disappear, she may falter, but I have seen her struggle and fight for sobriety all my life and each time she is just as committed and courageous.

The ability to fight is one of the greatest lessons she has ever shown me. The ability to endure is one I will hold onto forever. Thank you, mother.