The Struggle is Real

I am having this recurring pattern of thought lately. Anyone who has known me my whole adult life would have certainly gleaned that I feel like I lost the parenting lottery as a child. I am sure a lot of people feel like this at certain points of time growing up and then as an adult, reflecting on the past. Dealing with parental disappointment is not unique...and sometimes it is not fair because, as parents, we all seem to try our best with the skills we have.

I discovered at 8 that my step dad, Don, was not my real dad. He and my mother married when I was 3 and divorced when I was 13. I was told (in the most least child friendly way) my real dad was named Gordon. I met Gordon briefly for about an hour when I was 8. He was friendly, he taught me a yo-yo trick (it was 1978 or 1979), he had a blue/white budgie that really impressed me. Then - I never saw him again. I think I got a phone call once after the meeting...and a polaroid photo of him. That photo was destroyed during the teen angst years when it became overtly clear he was not interested in being a father. Nothing screams the truth louder than apathy.

I went on to develop a real aversion to male figures. I had an abusive step father for 10 years...then another one after that one (briefly), named Larry, who was a drunk, silent asshole. He never laid a hand on me but his silence permeated my life. To this day I cannot conjure the sound of his voice in my head, he spoke so little. Unnervingly so.

My mother married Larry without notice or warning and made me live with them, even though I was desperate to live with my grandparents on the coast. After months and months of me begging (harassing really) my mother to let me go live with my grandparents, she would not relent....she adamantly refused to ever allow this, even though in the past she had on 3 occasions passed me off to someone else to live with when it was convenient for her - I had accepted my fate...I was stuck in this trailer with these 2 assholes until I left home on my own accord. Something must have happened and it resulted in Larry telling my mother that "either she goes or I go" - and BOOM! My mom had me on a bus so fast my head was spinning. This is no exaggeration. That is exactly how it transpired. Within days I was going west, on my own, another lonely bus ride, I was relieved but the heaviness of what it meant was hard to ignore. That feels like it was "the" moment for me and my mother...the point of no return. The absolute last abandonment I was going to tolerate and forgive. I was 15. This all transpired in about 4-5 months.

Bless my dysfunctional grandparents for taking in this cretin teen at the time in their life they should have just been resting and enjoying retirement. That was in 1986 so they were in their late 60's...but I cannot articulate how incredible it was to be taken in by them. They were so important to me - I do not know what would have become of me if they had refused. Honestly. I feel like it could have had very dire consequences the way things were going for me. I had already narrowly averted being taken from my mother's care and put in foster home before I was sent off on the bus to my grandparents house. 

I lived with them for grade 9, 10 and 11 and then in grade 12 moved in with Aunty Pam so I could be in town. Those 3 years with them are some of the most warm, memorable times. I wish I could turn back the clock and go back and really appreciate the time I had with them. My Grandad died in 1995 and Granny in 1998. They are happy ghosts for me - gone but never too far from my mind on a very regular basis. For all their own personal demons and history and life fuckery they somehow managed to give me a soft place to land when I needed it most.

Being fatherless was always this loud but unspoken drum beating in my head. Sure, my mom was awful and did not think twice about leaving all of her 3 children to suit her own needs - but hey...I DID NOT HAVE A FATHER. That was my personal narrative. That became the heaviness in my psyche. At some point around 30 I decided to look for Gordon. I sent a postcard and he got it.

I never did hear from him directly though. Apparently upon getting my postcard he handed it off to his then 16 yr old daughter, Sara, so she could reply. Sara wrote and we got to know each other a bit...the age difference was substantial and I will not lie - I felt massively jilted - he did not even have the courage to just reply and say he did not want to do this. My narrative of fatherlessness hit a peak with this rejection - not only did I not have a father - I had officially been told, in no uncertain terms, that he did not want to be my father. Ooof. As it played out with Sara over the years I felt like I dodged a bullet...he was not a great father and did not even sound like a great person really, personal bias aside. I settled into thinking he was a useless coward who was not even that great to the kids he sort of raised. That was almost the end of it.

Over the years, conversing with Sara (she has 2 brothers as well but we never talked) I never felt "kinship" with her, she is a nice person, very friendly but something was missing, I am sure she felt it too...I had other maternal half siblings who I was very attached to despite not living with them after 1983 - I think I expected some type of familiar spark...it never happened. Nothing in common, not even a little...and I felt like I did not look like any of them either. Gordon, Sara and his sons all had this similar look, long face, the same eyes etc....nothing like me and I did not look exactly like my mom either so... (insert foreshadowing here)

In 2017 I asked Sara to do an Ancestry DNA test for me - she agreed....she did it...and guess what. NOT A MATCH. We were not half sisters. Gordon was not my dad. When this came out he told Sara he never thought he was my dad...gee, thanks for clearing that up for me in such a timely manner fuckface. I was 46/47 and just realizing I had no idea who my biological father was.

After some DNA genealogy and detective work and further tests administered to willing parties...BINGO...dad discovered. His name is Al...Al is such a great sport....it's been 3 yrs now and he still calls me on the weekends to chat and catch up, we visit (when there is no COVID BS going on) & he sends me a card with birthday money every year...it is really quite sweet. We have similar personalities, which is a bit trippy and there is a resemblance, which I find comforting. I could not have known how finally having a father & the shedding of the heavy fatherlessness cloak would affect me. It was an epic mindfuck at 1st, I went to counselling and sorted some stuff out....and THAT is when the shift started.

ARTIST: https://marijatiurina.com/

Suddenly - without the weight of fatherlessness - I was kind of floundering a bit....decades of this story I always told myself - of being fatherless, of being rejected, of being unwanted, of being unimportant to the one person who should have been there for me...suddenly did not apply anymore. My real father did not even know I existed - thus did not reject me at all! Now what? Oh don't worry....this void filling experience did not instantly erase the lifelong rejection and self esteem issues overnight but...now there was this new thing. I began to question every fucking word my mother ever said to me about history and my paternity...she had no memory of Al (and vice versa) and to be fair, at the time of my conception, she was still recovering from a pretty serious brain injury from a fall and has very little memory of that part of her childhood (she was just 16 when she had me).

Since this all came out and got sorted for me I have been struggling with the concept of forgiveness where my mother is concerned. I just can't seem to wrap my head around it. I have always had a very sour relationship with her, one where I felt like I was in some obligatory purgatory with her...as Maynard sings, "umbilical residue" fuses me to her when all I want to do is disappear. So many unsaid things, things that would just be cruel and useless to say to her...she lacks the "whatever it is" to be fully accountable for all of it and I think I lack the "whatever it is" to truly even let it all go and forgive. Plus, my true feelings would be incredibly painful for her to hear, I know this about her.

I see all of the consequences of her life choices - the ripple effects of selfishness and her lack of ability to ever put her kids first. My brother is dead, suicide - abandoned by his mother at 6, never really recovered, was always this wounded, delicate bird, desperate to connect with anyone, provided with no life tools to deal with his pain, it festered, dead at 24 yrs old...My sister, abandoned at 2, another wounded bird, abandoned but scooped up quickly by a new mom, Laurie, who made all the difference for her - I feel like my brother was too old and loyal to his mother who left him to ever truly bond in the same way my sister did with Laurie. Sadly - Laurie died when my sister was 15 & then 5 yrs later my sister would be finding my brother's dead body in their garage. You can imagine how these 2 events alone have shaped her as a person. She has no problem having nothing to do with our mom, that umbilical residue does not exist for her. I envy her in that regard. My daughter has no real relationship with my mother. I have never forced one and my mother has never tried hard enough to solidify one...so it never happened. Being that I spent the most time in my mother's care as a child I have the most and best horror stories. I don't think I need to share more examples. I think the picture is painted. Neglect, abuse, boundary issues, betrayal & abandonment combined with her odd current expectation that our mother/daughter thing is even a thing...

Now that the dad thing is sorted and turned out as well as anyone could have imagined - it is time to sort out the mom shit. She is 67 now...the same age as my grandparents were when I went to live with them as a teen. I see that she has mellowed out in some ways, much like my grandparents had with age...she now tells me she loves me whenever we are getting off the phone - I cannot reply in kind...I do not know how with her. I was not raised hearing those words and today they echo with hollow sentiment that I resent and am enraged by. I have spent a lot of time reflecting on my reaction to this new I love you thing she does, trust me...I beat myself up a bit about it but at the same time...I just don't know what to do with it. I don't know what to do with all this anger towards her. I know I am harming myself the most with these feelings...I feel so fucking conflicted...the thought of her feeling unloved by the only child she has left who will talk to her makes me feel so very sad...at the same time dealing with her causes me stress and is just unpleasant. This is very complicated...I know things cannot be resolved b/c I do not believe she is capable of what is required to reconcile it all...be it due to brain injury, self preservation/protection, whatever...I know this. I will never get from her what I need to feel like it is all in the past...my problem is - I clearly cannot accept that fully and just move on without all the resentments and anger. So here I stew.

It is the lamest, most pathetic, most selfish shit to dwell in this place...to be mad at your mom for sucking. I see it. I feel it. I know it. LIKE GET THE FUCK OVER IT ALREADY...Yet here we are. Tick tock. 

How am I going to feel when she is dead and I cannot go back and forgive her/let it go when I know I had the chance and squandered the time & opportunity? Will I feel relieved? Will I be drowning in regret? Will I feel the rage lift away or intensify? I truly have no idea...maybe all of it will apply...and at different times. 

I am surrounded by people with dead mothers and they all wish they had theirs back....and I am sitting here forsaking the one I have...even if she was a shit mom. The new dad discovery has added a layer to this complexity that feels very raw and hard to grapple. It is all completely unspoken of now between us. I assume she does not inquire about him at all b/c it is awkward for her and she would sooner just leave it alone...or she has picked up my mojo that I have 100% ZERO INTEREST in sharing any of it with her. I keep them very separate....for reasons already explored in counselling.