If Your Mother Was Always There for You and Always Loved You No Matter What, This Is Not the Post for You
Sunday, May 10th, 2015
Now Playing: Greek Tragedy - The Wombats
Riding to New York for an interview that I have in Harlem tomorrow. Designing a lesson plan but needed a break from over-over thinking. It's only when I feel the pressure of being observed that my plans don't flow as naturally as they regularly do. The worse part is, they're only giving me 30 minutes to execute the lesson. I'm going crazy over here.
So, I log onto Instagram and view what seems like millions of Mother's Day posts. Blahhhhh - is the only word that sums up my reaction. I just feel blah. And I know I'm not the only one who feels this way today.
In my lifetime, I've both met and/or read about many types of moms: Those that are amazing - flaws and all, those that can't be there for their children because of various uncontrollable circumstances, those that passed away, and those that neglect their children, leaving them motherless.
The latter is the type mother that I was born with. Hence, the reason why I look at my timeline like, blahhhh... I would be fake as hell to post a Happy Mother's Day tribute to a woman who did not raise any of her children. I look at my grandmother's hand on my mother's womb, as she was pregnant with me. Those same hands beat my ass on many occasions that I did not deserve. But truth be told, neglect and abuse are what made me the woman that I am today: crazy, brilliant, and resilient, to say the least. I hope my tone does not exude anger or resentment. Over the years, I have matured enough to be nothing but grateful. Not only do I forgive them, I accept them and understand that as a result of their own traumatic childhoods, their definition of love and methods of expressing/showing love are very different than mine. Most importantly, I accept the fact that nothing that I went through was because of them. They had nothing to do with it. Nothing was ever personal. Everyday, I grow and realize, it was all a divine plan, purposely designed to make me-ME. Today, I am victorious because of my struggle. Not because of my looks or my degrees. Turmoil is unequivocally what I believe molded and shaped me as a woman. Each and every hardship was merely a lesson that allowed me to gain strength, wisdom, determination, humility, and empathy, all of which I cannot wait to pass on to my future children and grandchildren.
I wanted to post this on Instagram and Facebook, not just to get it off of my chest but to let the many people that probably feel exactly like do know that they are not alone - that they must let the mistakes of their parents be their motivation, not their misery... but I was nervous. I was so torn about it that I showed the freckle-faced sista sitting next to me and asked her for her thoughts on it.
"It's great but are you ready for the feedback that you might get from this?" She was very articulate. I was instantly obliged to consider her opinion.
"What do you think they will say?" I whispered as if "they" were right there, listening in on our conversation.
"There are going to be many people that read it and think it's amazing but then there will be people that might take it personal and give you a bit of backlash... Especially because it's Mother's Day."
"So.. Should I wait and post it tomorrow?"
"No.", she said with an abrupt conviction. "Stand strong in your voice."