One of my many hurtful truths that I have come to learn on this journey, is that change may require separation from those you love the most. A lot of people are unaware of my distant relationship with both of my parents. In fact, I’m sure that most people assume that we are really close. My father has never met my five year old son, and my mother and I have opposing views on life. My graduations, child births, or most of my accomplishments have been celebrated without them. For many years, I have worked on building this ideal mother daughter relationship that apparently is nonexistent for me. Or not the way in which I expected. This I have come to terms with. I have respect for the both of them and the choices they have made, but refuse not fight for my dreams. One of the last conversations I had with my mother was about my dreams and what I planned to do. I told her how I wanted to travel more, especially with my son and speak to women across the country. That day may have been a bad day for her, but she responded in a way that brought me back to my childhood. My mother has been hurt, but has yet learned her role within that pain. Most women fail to realize the self sabotage of unhealthy relationships. My father was a heroine addict and alcoholic. I was a product of their lack of self love. Their pain ran through my mother’s womb and into my veins. My upbringing was the icing on the cake. I grew up feeling unworthy, cared for physically neglected emotionally. That day on the phone, she brought out the little insecure girl within me that needed to be nurtured and understood.
“Do you know who you are?” She would repeat over and over. “I know who you are, I gave birth to you. Your black. Take yourself off of that high horse of yours. Black people don’t travel unless they are in the service. You think your cute. I pray your dreams come true, but if they don’t, don’t get upset.” I was appalled at her response and knew her statements weren’t true. I could hear her pain, but I just didn’t have the energy to empathize. I had to instantly disconnect. I realized as an adult how fucking powerful I am, to have fought bullies within my home and within society. Most people have a mother and father that stand by them no matter what. I have seen parents defend their son or daughter in things they knew they were in the wrongdoing. Shit, if the world doesn’t love you, at least your mother or father does. But what is love from a parent that never learned to love themselves? It is a pass down of pain and forgotten dreams. It is a love that is emotionally unstable. I couldn’t get mad because how can someone who gave up on their dreams believe in me? I always wonder how many people fall in the generational chapter of repeating there parents mistakes. Going through the same pain as their parents only to either repeat or make different decisions. As much as I love my parents, I cannot allow them to curse my dreams. Their words are powerful and affect me more than an outsider, even more because of their role in my life. I never have thought and don’t think I’m better. I want and deserve better for both me and my son. I have finally turned the pages of the book, removed myself from the chapter they remained stuck, and began writing my own story. If choosing to make and have a better life requires me to leave some loved ones behind…then so be it. There are cemeteries full of dead dreams. I prefer to remain on my high horse until the day I die, the air is better up here!