Saved by the love of a good woman
I don't want to give the impression that I feel I had a horrible childhood. On the contrary, I know I did not. Sure, my father was different than other dads, but I did not really see that until much later and ignorance is bliss. What made my childhood happy was without a doubt my mother.
My mother has been my strongest and most consistent ally throughout my life. She took my brother, sister and I everywhere. We always spent time outside whether it was canoeing, or creek walking. We were encouraged to read, to think for ourselves. And the affection we received was always from my mom and it was plenty...so much so that I don't think we noticed that we didn't get it from my father.
Existing in an alcoholic family is difficult, but it was made more tolerable by the unspoken agreement we all had: do not tell dad. My father traveled a lot and when he was away, the mood in my home was almost festive. Mom stopped telling him the trouble we had gotten into while he was away, and would handle it herself...because his punishments were harsh and sometimes even cruel.
My memories of being a child with my mother are so many. As absent as my dad was, my mother was very present and it was not always easy for her to be. My mom had three children, a menagerie of animals, my paternal grandfather with dementia living with us, her own father with cancer, and an alcoholic husband. And later, a full time job. It was alot. Still, through everything, she was there, giving her all to being a parent.
I remember going to my grandfathers farm and feeding the chickens with her, and my mom bent over my homeowrk,or latest school project with me late into the night helping me, of our garden, which I only found out as an adult was my mom's therapy. I remember confiding in my mom, much as I do today. I remember feeling loved.
My problems started manifesting themselves early on. At first, both my parents were involved, though it was my mom who ultimately followed through. They took me to therapists to try to figure out what was wrong. When that did not seem to be generating the desired results, my mom tried to help me with diets and by encouraging every creative pursuit I followed. Mostly though, my mom loved me. I always felt loved and cherished. I never questioned that.
In short, my mother has never given up on me. Through all the hell I put her through (which was PLENTY) she loved me. She has seen me through my first marriage, my illness, my fathers death, etc. She has given me so much of herself, and taught me so many valuable lessons on what love really is.
I am so fortunate to say today that my mother is one of my best friends. There are so many things that only she knows, that I only feel confortable confiding in her. And its so very hard being physically 300 miles away from her, but I also feel her and the place where she resides, where she has and will always reside, in my heart.