Recently, I had the opportunity to speak with some people about my book. During the course of the conversation a comment stuck in my brain. One of the women I was speaking with said something like "It is amazing that you can be so positive and understanding when you speak about your mother." I do try to present my negative experiences with my mother alongside the facts of her addictions and mental illness, but living next to the grace and understanding is rage.
Sharing stories about my childhood and shining light on some of the horrors my sisters and I endured is not something I do lightly. I have spent a lot of time praying and thinking about the best way to use my story to bring light and positivity into the world. As I have gone through the stories, I have found myself viewing my mother and her choices in two ways.
The first filter is that of a daughter. This filter colors the memories with rage, hurt, and sadness. Walking through the waters of the past I see all the times my mother never chose me or my sisters. She knew right from wrong. Still, she chose to do what would make her feel better. Time and time again my mother consistently chose momentary pleasure and instant gratification over working hard and building a better life.
So many times, my mother chose a man or a high over parenting and creating a safe environment for her children. When I let myself view things as my mother's neglected child rage vibrates through me. That rage never fully dissipates. Rage isn't always a bad thing. Rage can have a propelling effect and when harnessed rage can fuel change. Letting that rage consume and drive my decisions would be all too easy. I could sit back and say the universe owes me and spew more anger into the world. There is a market for that kind of mentality.
But there is another view of my mother that keeps the rage from taking complete control. The second view is that of a human. When I remove myself from the equation and look at the memories objectively, I can see the ways in which my mother was a victim. Not a victim in the same way my sister's and I were, but a victim of a lack of information and resource. Viewing my mother and her choices that way, as a human, makes it easier to have grace and understanding.
It's not easy to let the rage take a back seat. I can't say my goal is to spread hope and healing while allowing my rage to color my words when I share a story. So, even when the rage comes to the surface, I make the choice to push it back. I make the choice to frame the story with kindness of understanding and the knowledge that most people do not have children with the goal of abusing and neglecting them.
My rage and hurt will have an eternal existence, but it is possible for them to exist next to understanding and grace.
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