Soaring

Prologue

"Yes, Mother I understand." I nod"Good. So remember. Watch your mouth, be a lady, and stand straight and tall." Nagged my mother.

Context

My mother and I spend almost every second of every day together. She wants nothing more than for me to be a better person than she was at my age. It didn't matter if that age was five or fifty-five. She expects me to be better than she was.

I can appreciate that she wants what's best for me and for me to grow and learn far more than she had, though sometimes that means judgment from her. And that means a lot of things to me. That means it's going to get uncomfortable.

Being so judgemental that she makes me extremely uncomfortable. So judgemental that when I forget to read through my every word about to come out of my mouth mentally, I get frightened of the lecture afterward.

To someone on the outside, this sounds ridiculous. To me, it's a frightening experience I've lived time and time again. That's why it's so terrifying to me. I've lived a long enough life with my mother to know I never live anything down. She will find a way to remember your slightest mistake and use it against you later.

It sounds as if it's a miserable experience for people who don't know my mother. It is not necessarily that. Everybody loves and adores my mother. She just has her way of thinking that can be damaging. Damaging to herself and others around her. Though unintentionally.

Growing up, she had her family in her ear. Telling her when she could shower when she could eat, when she could sleep, and when she could drink. Almost like prison guards.

I didn't get to meet her mother, but her father I did get to know for a short period of time. I always heard that he was just the one that had to enforce the rules. If he did not, his wife was coming after him as well. It was not his fault.

If he had not been the enforcer, he would have been the silent victim. His wife would gather whatever weapon she could rather it was a hot spatula, a wooden spoon... Whatever she could find to fit into her hand. If he did not enforce the rules around her house, he fell victim to cruel punishments.

I have a lot of respect for my mother. She still manages to love her mother. Even knowing her mother forced her father into abuse. Into treating the kids like some kind of show dog. Except for show dogs get pampered. My mother during her childhood was anything but pampered.

My mother did not know what it felt like to be kind to children growing up. She was taught to be grateful for the shirt on your back. Be grateful for the shelter that you have. Never complain.

As well as the adult is always right. The adult is superior. The adults will not apologize to the children, as that is just foolish. Children are to be seen not heard. Just as women were when their parents were young. That you should be grateful they even acknowledge you. Let alone shelter and clothe you.

If you took these things for granted, you were just biting the hand that fed you. Did you get hurt playing outside? Good. The teacher gave you welts? Good. The neighbor's mom smacked you in the face? Good. That is how her parents thought. So I'm lucky to have what I have.

I don't have to put up with being abused and bullied by the one person who loves me most. I do not have to worry about my mother smacking me with a hot cooking utensil, as she does not believe in that, due to her childhood trauma. I'd much rather have a ton of judgment, than a lack thereof respect for my well-being in my home.

At least I have a mother who is always looking out for me and want's the best for me. With good intentions. Even if sometimes those intentions can be frustrating. I'd much rather that than have grown up around such abuse and toxicity.

Not just that, but my adoptive sister Makayla is from a similar situation as my mother: Abuse, neglect, no love, and lack of respect in the household. Although my mother is not Makayla's biological mother, she does call her mom. Since my mother is the only mother figure she's ever had that was respectful towards her and loved her unconditionally.

Just like traditional mothers and daughters, Makayla and my mother have had their ups and their downs. As well as times when Makayla felt as if our mom was overreacting or being extremely overprotective.

Soon, however, Makayla had a baby, and she and I both became the mothers of that baby. Realizing how right our mother always was. Even though we would never admit such a thing to her face! Just thinking about admitting this to our mother's face gives me a want to chuckle.

We could be a handful sometimes, but we were her handfuls. My dad, however, was not a fan of the mischief Makayla and I were capable of. He felt we should behave and always be quiet. For most of our teen years, we could remember my father acting like a grumpy old man.

We knew he did not do this intentionally. He has bone problems from his many years of construction, causing him endless pain. As well as a strong cough from years of smoking. Not to mention his ongoing headaches since childhood.

It makes him miserable and unbearable sometimes. Unfortunately, anger issues run in our family as well. So sometimes he chooses to have a continuous attitude with everybody around us. Again, he admits it is not intentional.

Which is why my father and Makayla sometimes don't get along. Due to nobody getting along due to their opinions.