I Thought My Mother Was My Best Friend - I Was Wrong
"Agghhhhhhh" my mother screeched in pain, trying to hold it together enough to make it to the hospital for delivery. A little head falls right into the vaginal canal, ready to burst out at any moment. The cloth seats sink in terror, knowing full well what's about to happen to their brand-new, squeaky-clean upholstery. "Faster, *Dan! She's about to come out on her own! I'm not gonna make it!" Dad screams from the front, "I'm going as fast as I can, Brenda! Calm down and stop yelling at me, for Christ's sake." Even in utero, I was impatient, never wanting to miss a thing.
My mother had just been to the hospital earlier that day, telling them she was in labor. However, she was dismissed and told that it was just Braxton Hicks. Well, she hopped into a warm shower not long after she'd gotten back home, and pop! Her water broke right then and there. Well, so much for her cramps just being Braxton Hicks - she was in active labor and quickly running out of time to get back to that hospital for her doctor, a good 20 to 30 minutes away.
Surprise! I didn't wait. I came shooting out like a slip-n'-slide covered with soap right in the parking lot of the wrong hospital. I was promptly whisked away from mom, just so they could make sure I wasn't contaminated from the environment I arrived in. That birth set the stage for the rest of my life - I was different; a problem child. To add insult to injury, I was also an infant who was difficult to console. It's likely I had colic and acid reflux, but that wasn't as well-known or understood like it is today.
I also found out within the past couple of years that I have both ADHD and Autism, which would have been wonderful to have known before age 34. It also would have explained a lot, including my family's incessant need to misunderstand me in every way physically possible. My mom got frustrated with me a lot as a small child and constantly overcorrected in response. Same with dad - he has always been much more violent, and much less likely to give a shit when he hurt me.
Nevertheless, I was attached at my mother's hip. I didn't want to go anywhere, be anywhere, do anything - without her. I would bawl when she left me with my sister, panicking about whether mom would make it home safely or I'd be one parent down, and then it'd just be dad...Oh, god, was that thought terrifying. He never tried to understand me, and he never will. He doesn't care enough to. He has his golden daughter and her children, and that's all he needs.
I thought my relationship with my mom was different. Was she abusive, too? Absolutely. Was she - seemingly - more willing to hear me out, understand where I was coming from? Also yes. At least, I thought. My mom and I have had some really great times together, with some really amazing bonding experiences that I will always be grateful for. We had girls' nights, days when I'd give her a manicure, play with her hair, do her makeup, watch a movie...whatever we decided didn't really matter. I was just happy to spend time with her.
As much as I love my mom, she's also always been very negative about anything I do, with the exception, maybe, of my veterinary medicine career. I think everything else I had done was 'just a job' to her, not exactly 'successful.' I think I finally made my parents proud for once with my vet med career. That all changed when I got in my car accident. Then, instead of being supportive, she became negative all over again.
In the time that I've been out of work, relegated to weekend duties once a month, when able, I've done a lot of soul-searching and reevaluating my life. I've had no choice but to do so, because my body likely won't be able to handle being a vet tech ever again. I've also come to be able to tell my mom a lot of the things I had been terrified to say - I'm not religious, being one of them. That didn't go over well, and she started telling people, including my niece, that my daughter is going to go to hell. Who does that? To a teenager, no less?
It was my mother being taken to the hospital without my knowledge, her nearly dying without my knowledge, and then her not standing up for me after the fact when I was hurt, having been left out of the loop for nearly TWO days. First, she understood why I was mad and agreed with me, then all of a sudden, she swapped her opinion on me. Dad made me out to be the bad guy, told me I was going to end up sad and alone, all because I sent him a text that simply told him not to "ever fucking leave me out like that again."
This man cusses like a sailor, but decided me using the f word in that moment was just so disrespectful - nevermind him and my sister leaving me out of the loop entirely. Apparently, that's not disrespectful. He just wanted to be a goddamn victim, as usual, instead of taking accountability for anything ever. All I wanted was an apology. That's it. He could admit he was wrong to my mother, but not me. Still not a word to me, other than a text saying Happy Birthday on June 18th. No "I'm sorry I left you out. I'm sorry I brought your daughter into this by guilting her. I'm sorry I didn't apologize because I'm too narcissistic to admit when I'm wrong."
No, that'll never happen. Instead, he brought mom to his side, maybe even using her hemiplegic migraines and their effect on her brain - they are like mini strokes every time, according to her doctor - to manipulate her. Either that, or my mom has never been who I thought she was, and she has never been my friend at all - never even loved me. She sealed the deal on our relationship recently by trying to accuse my husband of trying to murder me, as payback for me being honest about how I felt about the abuse both as a child and an adult.
That man would never harm a hair on my head. He's not got a violent or murderous bone in his body. She just wanted to sow doubt in my mind about my marriage, the one thing I have always been sure of, and the one thing that has made me the happiest and given me the most wonderful daughter. Lucky for me, I know my husband and what he's capable of. He isn't capable of trying to kill me by putting pills in my frozen Slurpee. I was overmedicated and having major psychological reactions at the time, and my husband actually took that cup away from me. He had told me about it...a couple of years ago, maybe?
I likely either put them in there because of the medication or I accidentally dropped them in there...or I was trying to off myself. I was incredibly depressed, looking for answers and diagnoses but getting none. If she had truly been my best friend, she would have notified my husband of what was happening when he was at work so that he could step in and get me help. Instead, she let me essentially put my daughter in danger so that she could have my daughter to herself. I'm not a fucking idiot. I know damn well she thinks I fucked up raising her because she's not religious, she's gay - and no, mom, that's not a phase - and she's me made over. Not sure what she expected...
In the process of her and dad's bullshit, they've managed to do nothing but push my daughter away. Texting her about how awful I am, how I just hate them, and I just lie about how they've treated me is not the way to win her over, considering I make myself an actual parent who makes myself approachable with absolutely anything. I may have been told I could tell my parents anything, but all that got me was getting called a whore.
I actually provide a safe space for my daughter, and I will provide friendship when appropriate - when she's an adult and doesn't need her mom as much anymore. I have given her the space to be herself without shaming her for it, because there's nothing for her to be ashamed of - there was nothing for me to be ashamed of, either. There still isn't, and I refuse to be backed into a corner and made to feel guilty for spending the short period of time I'm given on this earth to live the way I want to, not the way I'm told to.
A true best friend would have always been supportive and gentle, even when telling me I'm wrong. A true best friend would have never tried to make me turn my back on the partner she spent decades raving about. A true best friend wouldn't tell people I'm going to hell behind my back - same for my daughter. A true best friend wouldn't still be making me the black sheep of the family at the ripe old age of 35. Thanks for ruining my birthday, by the way, if you're reading this. Doubt you are, because none of you even read the article I asked you to. What a surprise.
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