Category : Stories

Sub Category : YoungAdult

My mom was always very mean. She loved me for sure, but she never said it aloud. Affectionate hugs were saved for solely tragic situations or when I wanted to show my love for her. 

I hate to sounds cliche, but in this case I have to. My parents fought almost every night. And at the time I didn't mind. I didn't understand that premise, and the severity of the situations my mom went through. My parents argued, my dad left, and we all went to bed. Everything seemed to be alright at the end of each day. 

She didn't make meals for me and my sibling everyday. But with 8 kids in the home; was she really obligated? (4 being older than 12) My mother was beaten, and cheated on for years. She didn't believe there was a way out.

I remember when my happiness started slipping away at a very young age. I wondered my my mom didn't try to help me. Surely she knew what depression was, because I did. The thing I didn't know was she as so caught up in her own depression and delusions that she believed her own child thought she was ugly. 

Because of her dark complexion my grandmother never really accepted my mother. She never got to feel the tender  unconditional love a mother is supposed to provide. And because of that I was robbed of a mother-daughter bond I need so badly. That combined with the abuse she endured from my father drove my mother to rock bottom. She has yet to return to the surface. 

 I just pray she heals before she takes her last breath. And I pray to God the cycle ends with me.