Forgiveness...
I realized something earlier today while walking in the tunnel (for all you non-Disney workers, it's the area below Magic Kingdom where all the employee crap is stationed.)
For years, I've been completley bitter towards my mother for never making an attempt at treating me like a daughter. I haven't seen her in years, and back when I did see her, all that was there was a hollow and empty pit of broken promises she fed me. It was hard growing up with the knowledge that my mother - the woman who carried me in her womb for 9 months - didn't want me. Needless to say (and understandibly so, I believe), I hated the woman. Even more than that - I loathed her.
But... like a ton of bricks, I was smacked in the face with reality this afternoon.
Everything happens for a reason. I now believe that more than ever.
My mother gave birth to me - brought me into a world that is cruel, but ultimately beautiful. I'll always be grateful to her for that, but she gave me a gift that was even more precious than that. She walked out on me. That sounds cruel, but I promise I don't mean it in that manner. Let me fully explain before judgement is passed.
For the most part, I grew up into an awesome person (yeah, yeah... ego... I know... but, keep reading and stop rolling your eyes). I don't do drugs, and its a rareity when I drink. I respect my elders, I'm more polite than I should be, I'm a sweetheart, and I'm starting to grow out of my "hate-the-world" phase. I'm intelligent as hell - I have a good head on my shoulders. And... to be honest, I don't think I would have ended up who I am today had my mother been there.
I'm a broken soul... but, it's easy to patch up a few cracks. Had she been around, I probably would have ended up shattered. I look at my brothers - the three most amazing men ever, whom I love more than anyone or anything on the face of this Earth - and as sickening as it makes me to say this... my mother destroyed them. Their scars are too deep to mend with patchwork. They will forever be damaged... all because my mother played a part in their lives. I'm more lucky than I realized to not have her in my life.
I use to claim that I had it just as bad as each one of my brothers did - at least she was there for half of their lives... but looking back now, I have to bow my head at myself and admit that I was treated like royality when compared to them.
It's taken years, but... I think I can finally forgive my mother for walking out on me so long ago. In fact, I'm very grateful towards her for doing it. She gave me life... and by walking away... she allowed me to keep it.
For years, I've been completley bitter towards my mother for never making an attempt at treating me like a daughter. I haven't seen her in years, and back when I did see her, all that was there was a hollow and empty pit of broken promises she fed me. It was hard growing up with the knowledge that my mother - the woman who carried me in her womb for 9 months - didn't want me. Needless to say (and understandibly so, I believe), I hated the woman. Even more than that - I loathed her.
But... like a ton of bricks, I was smacked in the face with reality this afternoon.
Everything happens for a reason. I now believe that more than ever.
My mother gave birth to me - brought me into a world that is cruel, but ultimately beautiful. I'll always be grateful to her for that, but she gave me a gift that was even more precious than that. She walked out on me. That sounds cruel, but I promise I don't mean it in that manner. Let me fully explain before judgement is passed.
For the most part, I grew up into an awesome person (yeah, yeah... ego... I know... but, keep reading and stop rolling your eyes). I don't do drugs, and its a rareity when I drink. I respect my elders, I'm more polite than I should be, I'm a sweetheart, and I'm starting to grow out of my "hate-the-world" phase. I'm intelligent as hell - I have a good head on my shoulders. And... to be honest, I don't think I would have ended up who I am today had my mother been there.
I'm a broken soul... but, it's easy to patch up a few cracks. Had she been around, I probably would have ended up shattered. I look at my brothers - the three most amazing men ever, whom I love more than anyone or anything on the face of this Earth - and as sickening as it makes me to say this... my mother destroyed them. Their scars are too deep to mend with patchwork. They will forever be damaged... all because my mother played a part in their lives. I'm more lucky than I realized to not have her in my life.
I use to claim that I had it just as bad as each one of my brothers did - at least she was there for half of their lives... but looking back now, I have to bow my head at myself and admit that I was treated like royality when compared to them.
It's taken years, but... I think I can finally forgive my mother for walking out on me so long ago. In fact, I'm very grateful towards her for doing it. She gave me life... and by walking away... she allowed me to keep it.