Hard To Be A Good Mother When She's Stuck In A Bad Marriage
Now that I am a mother, I have a better understanding of this challenging role
I realize that my recent writing has given a bad image of my mother. She did neglect me and said hurtful and emotionally detrimental things to me when I was little. To be fair, she did her utmost to provide for me. She never forgot me and always tried her best within her economic power to take care of me materially, which I do not in any way undermine.
Since my grandmother passed away over twenty years ago, my mother and I have been getting along extremely well. She keeps helping me out, and I am thankful to have her as my mother.
Now that I am a mother, I know managing children isn’t easy. My younger daughter is like how my mother described me when I was little—a constantly crying child. However, that wasn’t the me known to my beloved grandma and uncle. It seems that I cried mostly when my mother was around.
For several years, my younger daughter was so challenging for me to handle that I also had moments when I wanted to send her away to live with another family, just as I was sent to live with my grandmother and uncle at the age of three. I don’t hold any grudge against this arrangement at all. On the contrary, I am happy about it, because I wouldn’t be who I am today if my grandmother hadn't become a de facto mother to me.
Now that I am older, I understand that circumstances play an important role in shaping family relationship dynamics.
I wasn’t born at a good time in my mother’s life. She was in a bad marriage. Her husband wasn’t a responsible husband or father. The truth is that he wasn’t a bad person. He just wasn’t present for anyone.
My father preferred his art. He really shouldn’t have married and had children if art was everything for him. Nevertheless, I must say, when I see his beautiful art, I understand him.
And, when I need solitude to write and play music these days, I also understand him.
Just as I understand my mother, who tried hard to survive in a world where only she could help lift herself out of her predicament.
She once told me she wanted to take my brother and me with her when she split up with my father, but she wasn’t allowed to. She trusted that my father would take good care of us. There was no way for her to know that he wanted us so badly, but would not spend much time with my brother and me. I suppose she didn’t know either that I would have to live with different families, like a homeless person, throughout my childhood and teenage years.
When my mother eventually managed to survive alone comfortably, she would spend some weekends with my brother and me.
Even though she and I didn’t enjoy spending time with each other, we had to learn to live with each other’s presence. She was as much of a stranger to me as I was to her. It was such an ordeal for me to be with her, albeit her company and abundant kindness to others were very appreciated by everyone I knew.
Fortunately, I finally got to know her as she’s known by others.
It’s now a pleasure for me to spend time with her.
We laugh a lot together.
I miss her.
I love her.
This article was originally published on Medium on 30 September 2024.
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I have always loved my mum who adopted me but I do remember when I was a young woman finding fault in some things that happened in my childhood. But when I had my own kids I really appreciated what great job she had done as a mother - and my admiration for her grew tremendously. I really admire your honesty in this strong piece
Thank you for being so open about your childhood and the relationship with your mother. It couldn't have been easy for you to be sent from family to family. Glad you have a good relationship with your mom now.