Unconditional Mom

[janbear]

Message
bluidkiti
Administrator



Age: 44
Joined: 01 Dec 2005
Posts: 7079


Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2005 2:28 pm
Unconditional Mom

I was a rotten teenager. Not your average spoiled, know-
it-all, not-going-to-clean-my-room, getting-an-attitude-because-
I'm-15 teenager. No, I was a manipulative, lying, acid-tongued
monster, who realized early on that I could make things go my
way with just a few minor adjustments. The writers for today's
hottest soap opera could not have created a worse "villainess."
A few nasty comments here, a lie or two there, maybe an evil
glare for a finishing touch, and things would be grand. Or so I
thought.

For the most part, and on the outside, I was a good kid. A
giggly, pug-nose tomboy who liked to play sports and who thrived
on competition (a nice way of saying: somewhat pushy and
demanding). Which is probably why most people allowed me to
squeak by using what I now call "bulldozer behavior tactics,"
with no regard for anyone I felt to be of value. For a while,
anyway.

Since I was perceptive enough to get some people to bend my
way, it amazes me how long it took to realize how I was hurting
so many others. Not only did I succeed in pushing away many of
my closest friends by trying to control them; I also managed to
sabotage, time and time again, the most precious relationship in
my life: my relationship with my mother.

Even today, almost 10 years since the birth of the new me,
my former behavior astonishes me each time I reach into my
memories. Hurtful comments that cut and stung the people I
cared most about. Acts of confusion and anger that seemed to
rule my every move -- all to make sure that things went my way.

My mother, who gave birth to me at age 38 against her
doctor's wishes, would cry to me, "I waited so long for you,
please don't push me away. I want to help you!"

I would reply with my best face of stone, "I didn't ask for
you! I never wanted you to care about me! Leave me alone and
forget I ever lived!"

My mother began to believe I really meant it. My actions
proved nothing less.

I was mean and manipulative, trying to get my way at any
cost. Like many young girls in high school, the boys whom I
knew were off limits were always the first ones I had to date.
Sneaking out of the house at all hours of the night just to
prove I could do it. Juggling complex lies that were always on
the verge of blowing up in my face. Finding any way to draw
attention to myself while simultaneously trying to be invisible.

Ironically, I wish I could say I had been heavy into drugs
during that period of my life, swallowing mind-altering pills
and smoking things that changed my personality, thus accounting
for the terrible, razor-sharp words that came flying from my
mouth. However, that was not the case. My only addiction was
hatred; my only high was inflicting pain.

But then I asked myself why. Why the need to hurt? And
why the people I cared about the most? Why the need for all the
lies? Why the attacks on my mother? I would drive myself mad
with all the why's until one day, it all exploded in a suicidal
rage.

Lying awake the following night at the "resort" (my pet
name for the hospital), after an unsuccessful, gutless attempt
to jump from a vehicle moving at 80 miles per hour, one thing
stood out more than my Keds with no shoe laces. I didn't want
to die.

And I did not want to inflict any more pain on people to
cover up what I was truly trying to hide myself: self-hatred.
Self-hatred unleashed on everyone else.

I saw my mother's pained face for the first time in years -
- warm, tired brown eyes filled with nothing but thanks for her
daughter's new lease on life and love for the child she waited
38 years to bear.

My first encounter with unconditional love. What a
powerful feeling.

Despite all the lies I had told her, she still loved me. I
cried on her lap for hours one afternoon and asked why she still
loved me after all the horrible things I did to her. She just
looked down at me, brushed the hair out of my face and said
frankly, "I don't know."

A kind of smile penetrated her tears as the lines in her
tested face told me all that I needed to know. I was her
daughter, but more important, she was my mother. Not every
rotten child is so lucky. Not every mother can be pushed to the
limits I explored time and time again, and venture back with
feelings of love.

Unconditional love is the most precious gift we can give.
Being forgiven for the past is the most precious gift we can
receive. I dare not say we could experience this pure love
twice in one lifetime.

I was one of the lucky ones. I know that. I want to
extend the gift my mother gave me to all the "rotten teenagers"
in the world who are confused.

It's okay to feel pain, to need help, to feel love -- just
feel it without hiding. Come out from under the protective
covers, from behind the rigid walls and the suffocating
personas, and take a breath of life.

By Sarah J. Vogt from Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul


_________________
AA gives us an opportunity to recreate ourselves, with God's help, one day at a time. --Rufus K.
"No matter what you have done up to this moment, you get 24 brand-new hours to spend every single day." --Brian Tracy
God says that each of us is worth loving.
We stay sober together - one day at a time!