Growing up without a mother present seemed to be the worst thing I thought I could go through as a child. I’m sure one could picture it now – embarrassing shopping trips to pick out bras and underwear with dad, never mind the monthly ritual of picking up “feminine products” when that period started. All my friends on every Mother’s Day would ask, “Why are you making that for your dad?” or, “where is your mom?” Whenever those questions came about, I did not know what to tell them. I knew the truth, but did I want everyone to judge me by what she did? So, I simply said I don’t know and became silent.
Soon enough, that became what defined me, pure silence. If that was not bad enough, eventually I had no one to make cards for on those special days. Dad became distant, as well, first mentally, then physically. He slowly slipped away and created a mind, a life, a new beginning of his own. Again, as a child, it had to be my fault. First my mom, my best friend, then my dad, the only one I thought would stay. It would be true to say that my whole life was slowly slipping away, and it became harder and harder to get a hold of. Other children would ask why I came to school looking so messy or why I always looked as if I were on the verge of tears. Not once did I ever give them a truthful response because that was not what I wanted them to think about when they saw me or heard my name. I distanced myself from anyone who tried to come close. None of them needed to judge me, that was not something I wanted, nor could take. That was childhood me.
As I grew older and realized none of their choices were because of me, I was able to accept it. I could tell the truth without it becoming me. I could stop being embarrassed for them because they were not embarrassed for themselves. They chose to leave me behind, and if it was my choice, I would not have done anything different. Their story may not define me, but it does explain my life. Rather than giving in and letting myself be defined by their story, I adopted it and formed it to be my own. I gave it a twist and am now creating my own happy ending. Instead of following their example and getting in with the wrong crowd, I learned from their mistakes and strive not to be their fallen apple. I learned from their lessons, they passed down their mistakes, and because of that, it made me the best me I could be.
Sometimes the wrong people take a turn for the worst, but that does not mean that is how it is going to stay. As a young person, there will always be a time for change, an opportunity for success and will to do better.
