Story Of My Life
Matter
550

MY INSPIRATION

Am I not suppose to love my mom due to the fact that she’s the one who caused my struggle? Repeatedly I have asked myself that question, unsure how to answer it. Unquestionably, my mom is the one who brought me in this world, but how should I feel about the fact that she is the one who has hurt me the most?

12 years ago, I was forced to leave my mom and start a new life without her. I was six years old, innocent, and did not know how to speak up for myself. My mom was in jail, dad was in jail, and my heart was disconnected like puzzle pieces. I have learned in life I have to go through a lot of struggles to reach my destination, pain was created, and obstacles were hard to jump over because my mom decided to sell dope, and get locked up in order to feed me — that was just the beginning of the race.

The first day all I could smell is old ass wood and dirty laundry. My guardian said “once you get settled you can eat your food.” She called McDonalds food. But I guess I had to accept it so I wouldn’t seem rude. The fries were cold and unseasoned by the time I was done unpacking. So I had to put salt on my fries with my happy meal. The best part about the meal was the pretty, short, purple haired white doll in the box. I ate my fries quickly so I could get it over with, next was the cheeseburger. The cheeseburger was actually good until I had to go to the bathroom. Fast food never really last long in my stomach.

Later that day I walked into my white box my guardian called a room. It had two beds in it; I was sharing the room with my auntie the one who snores and makes you have bad dreams at night. I was so annoyed by it I just stayed quiet, rarely speaking to anyone for two days. And of course that was being rude. I earned my 3rd real woopen.

I forced a smile on my face and pretended like everything was ok… but it was not… While looking for the missing puzzle pieces to my heart, I finally realized when I was eleven years old , that the only missing piece was my mom. I was forced to become an adult young, having younger brothers who are now 12 and nine was not easy, especially when they would ask questions that I would not even be able to answer for myself.

As a result, my brothers asking me questions caused me to ponder some of my own. Did my mom want me? Did my mom make this decision to give me away on purpose ? Did my mom even love me ? All of these questions wondered in my head, but never getting answered to the point where I began to believe that my mom did not want me, and I was a mistake. I would see people in the mall, on the bus, in pictures with their mothers, I believe that hurt me the most, still till this day. I would dream of being with my mom, but it only took me waking up to realize that it wasn’t real. Sometimes I would have flashbacks of my mom’s round face, where her dimples were deep every time she smiled, her long braids in her hair sometimes flourished over her face when she would put her head down, her huge gap between her teeth made her unique, her giggly baby fat, after my brothers were born, and the sound of her voice, which made people take her seriously when really she was a very down to earth, and a silly person.

The ten years away from my mom, especially when I was young, impacted my life because I was taught to be mature, act like a lady and provide for my brothers, emotionally. I stressed about things that my elementary friends did not have to think about because compared to mine their lives were perfect. While they would be thinking about going outside to play with their friends, I would be thinking about the next book I wanted to read and the age that I would have to be in order to start my first job.

Unlike my friends, I was advanced in reading and writing just because I sat down and wrote how I felt everyday, not knowing that my struggle made me who I was then and now. To help me cope, I joined the choir young and music became my life. It was something that helped me express myself in a unique way, such as writing poems and singing songs.

A mother is a person who has a bondage with their child, a person who wipes away your tears and comes to your rescue when you need them, a person who checks the closet and under the bed to make sure there’s no monsters there, a person who unconditionally loves you and will forever and always care.

I must admit I have a mother, though she has caused my struggle, I have learned that every struggle teaches a lesson. I learned that no matter how far away or how many planes you have to take to get to them that no matter what their and my love won’t change. My mom is the one who impacted my life. But whether I was with her or not, she was always there in my heart. While I do not live with my mom, I do have a relationship with her, which I cherish especially because I know that she has made me who I am today.

Think about it your mom held you for nine months, embraced labor pain, and gave birth to you. Don’t neglect her, hate her all you want, but always love her.

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