I wasn't raised that way

If there is any group of words that probably unglues me more, this would be it. "I wasn't raised that way."Not because  of the words themselves, but the source from which they came from. I have been watching Dr Phil this morning as a beautiful young girl is sitting on his stage. Alone. I will repeat: Alone. Her mother sits in the audience, unwilling to take a seat next to her daughter up on that stage, crying - fighting for her life.  Dying from an eating disorder.

The courage this girl had, not only to write a letter to Dr Phil, show up, walk up on that stage, sit in front of  an audience of people, while scared out of her mind.  In the end, she took the help he offered her. I felt so happy.

I could relate so much to this young girl. She was so open, trying to  express herself. Her mother, just sat. In the clips from home she just sat once again, saying that if she showed  her daughter love - this would - fill in the blanks. Makes you feel all warm and cozy inside. (She had many reasons why not to.)

That is when I looked at Ray and said I am writing a story. It doesn't matter if it is on eating disorders, drugs, drink, molestation, pick your poison. Feeling unwanted, alone, frightened when not supported, takes it's toll. My world too was sitting on that stage alone- trying to figure things out as a girl, as a young woman. As a result I made many mistakes, it took me a very long time to forgive myself. Having children of my own helped me understand the learning curve. What it takes - especially with guidance, direction, support, love.
When as an adult I asked my mom why she would not do any of these things for me, she responded:
 "I wasn't raised that way".

My level of forgiveness for my mother comes in stages. I will get there. Her world -Religion, Politics, and whether her children are going to burn baby burn disco inferno ( that would be the conversation of whether we are going to hell or not.)  It is her way or the highway. Hmmm....


That lone stage I sat on for so long, in the end made me into the person I am proud to be today. Along the way, did I think I would survive? No... I thought I would shrivel and die and curl up into a ball of nothing. I wanted my mommy, I cried for her for so many years, I cannot tell you. She did not come,  would not come, could not come.  Even if she could, she was not going to. That was the hardest part for me to accept.  The work she would have had to do, to uncover the pain in her life. It was so much easier to point the finger at her youngest daughter ( that would be me) and heap on helpings until overflowing, until  I couldn't see straight. I took it... I believed it. She was my mother. I trusted her, I loved her, I needed her. I wanted nothing more in life - but her love.


I did everything in life to try to prove I was a "good daughter," worthy of her love. To my detriment, to my families. This would prove to be a bottomless pit. Only pain would come of this, loathing, disdain, loss of self respect. I had to build myself a new human. The old model was broken. I did. It seemed to take an eternity.... still working on it.

I am sorry that the woman who brought me into this world  is so empty, angry, feels so gypped. Hides behind God, religion.... I wish her peace. I wish peace for my siblings and myself. We have carried heavy hearts for long enough. It's time for a new mantra....because "I was raised that way".