The Mom That Didn’t Want Me. “I have spent the last 10 years of my life
tolerating the fact that I have you, can you stop making my life more difficult than it
is right now?” That was the statement that changed my life,
and I heard it right from my mom. I grew up in the beautiful state of New Jersey,
and my childhood was not anything I liked to remember or talk about. I knew since I was 10 that my mum didn’t
want me. I was young and I barely understood what that
meant. But I knew I felt so much longing and want. I couldn’t place those feelings, but they
were there especially on those cold nights when I had no one to cover me up with a coverlet
if I slept off on the couch, or on the nights I stayed alone wondering what it felt like
to have a family to wear matching pajamas together during Christmas or siblings to celebrate
Thanksgiving with. I imagined many things I didn’t experience
as a child. When I grew older, things didn’t get better. When I became a teenager, I wondered if God
had favorite children. I remember how I used to see Isabelle and
Linda as two of God’s favorite children. We grew up together in the same neighborhood,
and every day I saw the life I wanted in them. They have mothers who loved, wanted, and adored
them. They were princesses. It was difficult to believe that I was loved
by anyone especially the woman whose love I craved so much. This woman, my mom, was like a life-sized
doll. She was a very pretty woman whom I felt life
wasn’t kind to. I think I came from a lineage of people who
felt life was very unfair to them, and most of them took it out on innocent people like
me. My mom grew up with a single father. Her father was mean to her when his wife left
him for another man who had more money to spare. I remember how my mom used to say she didn’t
grow up with love, so she had no love to give. Her father had no love to give her, so he
gave her hatred. Deep hatred. He blamed my mom for all of his woes, and
he showed her how much he loathed her. When my mom found love outside the home, she
held it tight. She called what was not love, love because
she didn’t look closely. That love took her innocence and her purity
away. When she got pregnant at 19, she realized
that her life was going to be worse off than ever. The man that got her pregnant claimed never
to have met her in his life. He told everyone that my mom was a confused
teenager that needed help. That man who denied ever knowing my mother
was my dad. So technically, I never had a dad from the
start. The second time my mom tried to trust a man
was when she married my stepdad when I was 15. Not that she had ever cared very much about
me anyway, but it became glaring when she met Robert, my stepdad. She moved in with him, and she rarely came
home to see me. Once, I tried to go over to see her at Robert’s,
and I couldn’t forget the cold reception she gave me. She made it clear that I was never welcomed
in her new home because she was trying to find happiness for the first time without
having to remember her past. That day, the hurt in my heart was renewed. I suddenly realized that what I meant to my
mom was “the past" which was why she tried so much to avoid me. She didn’t want to remember the past. I was stubborn, so I didn’t give up on my
mom. Again, I called my mom several times when
I was home alone and sick. I could have called the hospital, but I called
my mom. I craved her response so much that I didn’t
realize how many times I had called without any response. That day, I thought I was going to pass away
quietly without the knowledge of anyone. I cried so much, and my whole being simply
cringed. Thank God for the quick response of the ambulance,
I might not be here telling this story. The plot twist happened when I woke up at
the hospital to see my mom beside me and a team of doctors. “You need to keep a close eye on her, her
blood pressure is too high for her age. She could have a stroke!” Those were doctor Tessa’s words to my mom. That warning changed the trajectory of things
for me as I had to move in with my mom and my stepdad. I didn’t know my health was suffering while
I was busy with worries, tears, depression, fear, and all that I had to go through. When the doctor said I had to stay on drugs
for a long time, I felt God wasn’t fair to me, again. It wasn’t my fault that I had to worry and
live in depression, so why did I have to develop high blood pressure at 15? To be honest, I liked it when my mom and I
didn’t stay together, I just wanted us to hang out occasionally, but not to stay together! Would you blame me? The only emotions my mum communicated to me
were hatred and contempt. At some point, I felt there was more to how
she treated me. I saw the love in her eyes when she looked
at my stepdad and his son, Luke. But I saw the hatred in her eyes when she
looked at me, her child. And then I asked “Why? You claimed you have no love to give because
you weren’t raised with love, but you dish out love to your husband and his son in large
proportion while I stare in pain, why mom?” I broke down in such a way that I had never
done before. My whole being shook as I asked those questions. My mom looked at me intently, without any
glint of remorse. She made for the door but stopped abruptly
because she obviously had one or two things to say. “No matter how hard you try, I can never
esteem you highly. I never wanted a child because I knew I wasn’t
capable of loving one, but you came. Even when I took different things to get rid
of you, you still came” she paused to breathe hard “ Because of you, I lost Rock. Rock was too scared of my father, so he denied
me and he denied you. Everybody called me a failure because of you…” “Stop mom, stop! I yelled” I didn’t want to hear no more. Since then, it became clearer that I was that
accident that should never have happened to my mom. I was that regret that she would carry to
her grave. As hard as it was to accept it, I had to accept
that I was never going to be that daughter. Time moved fast, and I moved with it. At 17, I was off to college on a scholarship. I was a grown woman, and I had stopped beating
myself up for what I couldn’t change. I stopped looking for love where it doesn’t
exist, and I learned to love myself very much. Well, my mom and I couldn’t share what we
didn’t have, so we never shared love. I had to intentionally drop everything that
looked like love for her. To be honest, I gave her what she gave me-
hatred! I was no longer jealous of the love she showed
Robert and his son, Luke. I used to be very jealous of Robert and Luke. Especially Robert. I have never seen my mom in such elegant display
affection of love to anyone before. I didn’t know how he did it or what he did,
but he showed that he was capable of controlling my mom in ways I couldn’t fathom. My mom wasn’t that woman to be “controlled"
so I was dazed to watch some of the scenes that played out between them before I was
off to college. To be honest, something about Robert made
me scared. There was something fishy about him that looked
dark that he tried to hide. At first, I was worried because of my mom,
then again, I remembered that my mom didn’t need my sympathy even if I had a lot to spare. Even though Robert was a big shot, I knew
my mom didn’t come for his money, but since he had a lot to spare; I knew she would spend
it with him! Sometimes, I wondered why my mom chose Robert
who was always bossy. He had so many people who came around him,
and most times, his words weren’t kind. Once, he caught me standing by the doorway
when I gazed intently at him and the young people who visited his house. He didn’t hesitate to warn me sternly. He told me to stay out of his business before
he throws me out of his house. That was the reason why my mom slapped me
on a summer Tuesday. She reminded me once again that she would
not hesitate to throw me out of her house if Robert had any negative things about me
again. That day, I knew that that “love" she protected
with everything she had was going to be the beginning of her doom! And I wasn’t wrong! I was in my sophomore year in college when
I got a call from home. At first, I was confused as to why I would
get a call from home. I never get calls from home. Oh, I was startled by the voice at the other
end. The voice was shaken, broken, scared, and
scarred. My jaw dropped when the voice said “I need
your help" I was startled! That voice had never needed me for anything! Why now? Mom? I called to be sure. “I need your help, Daisy,” she said
For the first time in 18 years, I had to admit that the hatred that had transcended generations
in my lineage flowed through me also. I couldn’t really say when I began to hate
my mom, but I knew the hatred began to grow in spite of myself. On the days when I tried to fight it, my mom
didn’t make it worthwhile for me. I spent 18 years of my life seeking a mom
that never wanted me, and then right in the middle of nowhere she sought my help. There was a swell of emotions inside me. Those emotions weren’t born of love or hatred,
they were born of revenge. There was an urgency in my throat to tell
her to go to hell, but I contained myself. I was going to allow my actions to speak what
was in my throat. Weeks later, it was revealed that my mom’s
husband and his son were drug lords. In America, you can’t survive on crime for
a long time; I guess they should have known better. I was told that the police raided Mr. Robert’s
home and arrested him alongside my mom and his son. Well, when you get married to a drug lord,
it is easy to believe you are one. The craziest part of the whole scenario was
how Mr. Robert insisted that my mom was an accomplice. “My mom? An Accomplice?” I was startled to hear that. I knew my mom could be anything bad, but not
a drug lord. Her father was involved in so many shady deals,
and he was a drug addict. I knew how much my mom hated drugs and anything
associated with it. The only witness my mom had, was me. Then, suddenly, out of the blue, my mom knew
she had a daughter. I had long accepted that I was never going
to be that daughter to my mom, and it was difficult to switch all the love I had to
deep resentment and hatred. I had lived life all alone because she refused
to break a generational trend. And then she needed my help. I wasn’t going to allow her to reap where
she did not sow. No matter how many times she called, I knew
I was never going to be that daughter who would stand up for the mom that never wanted
me. That was enough revenge for me. There was not much she could do to save herself. Robert had used her bank account several times
to transact, and she had accompanied him to execute his shady deals so many times. Robert had pictorial pieces of evidence. I wondered why my mom was careless with Robert. I found it hard to understand why Robert was
bent on destroying my mom. I guess it was how much he spoiled her with
his money. My mom had anything and everything she wanted. She cruised on private jets to beautiful islands
across the world. As far as she was concerned, life was being
kind to her for the first time. She never asked how or where Robert got his
money from. Despite everything my mom had to enjoy, not
once did she make me a priority. I was the bad pill she wanted to get rid of
or avoid. I struggled to stay financially afloat in
college while she traveled the world. I took on multiple jobs just so I could pay
my bills. Time was ticking, yet I didn’t budge an
inch. The trial was fast approaching, yet I refused
to make my intentions clear to my mom. I had vowed to allow my actions to speak instead
of my voice. On the eve of the trial, I came down to New
Jersey to witness the trial from afar. My mom had gotten a lawyer who had arranged
one or two witnesses for her. Still, I knew the only witness that could
say the entire truth about my mom was me. Even though I didn’t want to do it, I managed
to sit with my mom to talk. That was the last talk I owed her. I told her point blank that I wasn’t going
to be that daughter that would stand in that witness box to speak a word or two for her. My last words to her were “I have waited
all my life for you to call me daughter. I waited mom, I really did!” I told her I stood up from the waiting sit,
and I wasn’t coming back. Luckily for my mom, her prison terms weren’t
as long as that of Robert and his son. Thank God for a good lawyer. As I watched my mom file out of the courtroom
with her other “accomplices" I became worried. I worried about the hatred in my heart and
the fate of the next generation of our family. The story I’m about to share happened a
few years ago. I was in high school and that was when I still
had a crazy vindictive attitude with me. Cross me at that time to your own detriment. I’m way better now, (but I still go berserk
sometimes), But I tell you. That time was so insane, that I almost ruined
the relationship between me and my older sister M. For real. She didn’t talk to me for months when she
got into college. What did I do to make her hate me so much? Well, I glued her mouth shut while she slept,
because she told my parents a secret that she swore to keep with her life, (After I
paid her of course). But before I continue, let me start at the
top for context. I grew up in a conservative household. My parents weren’t super religious or anything,
although we go to church Sunday. They thought us the importance of good morals
and expected that we follow their teachings without questions. Well… for me, a fifteen-year-old rebellious
kid with cheese for brains, it was tough. I was the black sheep of the family, and I
couldn’t go a week without getting in trouble for one thing or the other. One time in middle school, I stole my mom’s
body spray, and my dad’s lighter and I took them to school. Then I made a fire and used it to simulate
the sprinkler system. Why? Well mostly because I wanted to skip the fourth
period. (i didn’t do my math assignment, and I was
going to get in trouble). Also because I wanted to sneak out of school. My best friend Lucas had just gotten a new
video game, but because I was grounded for something I did earlier that week, I wasn’t
allowed to go to his house to play the game. So the only time I had was during school hours. Anyways, when the sprinklers started to work,
we were instructed to get out of the school building till the source of the fire was inspected. Lucas and I took to our heels and went to
his house to play some games. We made sure we got back before sthe chool
closed though. My plan was foolproof, until one of the kids
in class who was present when I started the fire, decided to tell on me. I really can’t remember why he did that,
but I think it has something to do with a prank I played on him or something. The next day, my parents were called, I got
a week of suspension, and I was grounded for another two weeks. I still had two weeks left from the previous
punishment, making it a full month. Anyways, when I got back to school, I got
my revenge on the boy who told on me. One day after the gym, I waited till he was
in the shower, then I stole all his clothes and his them in the lost and found section. The gym was before the lunch break, so he
had to wait for all naked in the locker room, till the lunch break was over, before he could
go out to the lost and found section to find something to wear. That was pretty much my life during most of
the middle school. When the seventh grade summer holiday started,
my parents decided to set me straight by sending me to summer camp. The initial plan was for me and my sister
M and to spend the holiday with my grandparents (as was tradition), but they decided that
I won’t be allowed to have a good vacation till I learn to stop causing trouble. So after the summer holiday, in a bid to please
them, I decided to try my best to stay out of trouble. I was on my best behavior during eighth grade. I didn’t skip school, I did well in classes,
and I turned in my assignments early. My teachers had only good things to say about
me when my mom came over to discuss my progress. So during the eighth-grade summer holiday,
I was given back my holiday rights. But as they say, people don’t really change. One week into freshman year of high school,
I had an altercation with a new kid in school. Let’s call him Dan. Dan’s family was new in town, and he didn’t
do middle school with the rest of us. He had a huge frame. Bigger than the other high school freshmen. And because of that, he was kind of a jerk. The first day in school, and he had already
gotten a fellow freshman to give up his lunch money. I found that surprising because I felt like
new students are usually shy, or at least gentle during their first week. Anyways, I tried to stay clear of him in the
hallways, because I was still trying to be on good behavior. Turning a new leaf and all. But then a week later, during lunch break,
he walked up to me. I was talking to my friends, Lucas, and the
others, so I didn’t notice him at first. But when he tapped my shoulder, I turned to
look at him. I was kinda frightened at first. Or… not frightened. Let's say startled. We weren’t having the same classes, so there
was no way he could have known me. So why of all the students in the cafeteria
that bright Tuesday afternoon did he walk up to me? Well I asked him what he wanted, and he said
something along the lines of “Well… let's start with your lunch.” We were having pizza that day, and I had just
finished getting the crusts cut off. Just the way I liked it. I had gotten attached to that pizza slice,
and I couldn’t let go of it anymore. I told him that, and maybe there was something
in my tone, but Dan got really pissed. He grabbed my hand, and I knew what was going
to come next. He had the signature move of twisting hands
till people submitted. I didn’t wait for him. I kicked him hard in the groin and grabbed
my pizza slice. Then I went to sit somewhere else. When a teacher came in, and they heard what
happened, they didn’t bother to ask who hit first. Because Dan was new, they jumped to the conclusion
that I was the one in the wrong. Some students who were present during the
incident stood up for me and explained the whole story. That was how I narrowly escaped detention. I didn’t escape getting at home though. Even though the teachers decided not to allow
the incident to become public, my sister, M took it upon herself to tell our parents. We were having dinner as usual, and after
dad spent the first few minutes talking about his co-worker Darren, and how he’s always
snagging all the muffins in the break room. Then he turned to me and asked how school
was. I shrugged and told him that it was okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. When he turned to M and asked her how school
went, I knew immediately that I was in trouble. M was a good sister most of the time, and
even though we fought a lot, we still had that unbreakable sibling bond. But the one weakness M has is that she can’t
keep her mouth shut. She talks a lot, and when she does, she says
things that were supposed to be left unsaid. You can never keep a secret with M and expect
it to still be a secret the next day. I knew that she doesn’t do this intentionally. Sometimes, she just can’t help herself. Back in the Cafeteria, when the incident happened,
I scanned around the hall hoping that she wasn’t present. But eventually, I spot her at the far end
of the hall with her friends. I made a beeline for her table, and I told
her immediately to try to keep her mouth shut. She said yeah, she wasn’t going to tell
anyone. I knew that wasn’t possible, so I had hoped
that during dinner, dad wouldn’t ask how school went. But he did. M rambled on and on, about the subjects she
did in class, and the pop quiz she aced. She went so deep into it, that at one point,
I could have sworn that she was saying something about Japanese culture. By the end of it, she turned her gaze down
to her plate and continued her pasta. I heave a sigh of relief, thinking that she
had finally succeeded in not being a blabbermouth, but before the pasta enters her mouth, she
stops and looks up. “Oh and he got into a fight in school today,”
she says, pointing at me. My parents turn to look at me, and I shoot
her a look. There was n denying it because even though
M talks a lot, she doesn’t tell lies. I didn’t even bother trying to deny it. Instead, I try to explain to them that it
was an accident, and I wasn’t entirely at fault. They didn’t listen to me, and I spent the
rest of dinner, listening to how disappointed they were in me. When they were done, I got grounded for a
week. That was the shortest amount of time they’ve
ever grounded me. That meant that they kinda believed that it
wasn’t my fault and I was only standing up for myself. (my only question is that why did they still
have to punish me if they believe that I was innocent?) That same night, after dinner, M came into
my room and apologized for not being able to keep my secret. I merely rolled my eyes and told her that
it was fine. It wasn’t really fine though. She had done that too many times and her apology
doesn’t mean anything anymore. I mean… how hard is it to just… not talk? A part of me feels like she’s doing it intentionally,
but still, her apologies are always so sincere, then it’s hard to tell. Anyways, I’ve figured out that the best
way to live with M is to just not tell her things you don’t want anyone else to hear. But this doesn’t work all the time, because
even with not being able to keep her mouth shut, M has another problem, which is called
not being able to mind her own business. Whenever she catches wind that something is
going on that she doesn’t know about, she’ll do anything and everything she can to find
out what it is. For the first time I ever got some dirty magazines
from my friends back in seventh grade, I made sure to hide them in a loose floorboard in
my room, away from sight. But when M saw me, she could tell immediately
that I was hiding something. And even though I told her that it was nothing,
she didn’t believe me. She spent the next week, trying to figure
out what it was. And one weekend, when I went to play basketball
with Lucas and the guys on the street court, M snuck into my room, and turned it upside
down, looking for what I was hiding. Eventually, she found the loose floorboard,
along with my magazine. When I got home, my parents were already at
the kitchen table, waiting for me. Let’s just say… it didn’t end well for me that day. Anyways, a few weeks after the bullying incident,
my friends and I got invited to a party. The dude throwing the party was a popular
junior, and all the cool kids were gonna be there. Lucas and I only got invited, because we had
just made the basketball team. It was a very exciting time of our lives,
and we decided that we were going to go with whatever happened. That same day, as M and I walked home, she
asked me if I was going to tell mom and dad about the party. I couldn’t play dumb with her, because the
party was already common knowledge in school. I told her to stay out of it because I couldn’t
trust her to keep her mouth shut. But she didn’t let it end there. She kept guessing what I was planning to do. She knew that I wouldn’t go straight up
and ask them if I could go to the party, because as I’ve said before, my parents were really
conservative, and they don’t like the idea of going to those kinds of parties. Eventually, M put it together that I was planning
to sneak out, so I told her not to tell anyone. I even gave her fifty bucks to buy her silence,
and she promised that her lips her sealed. I actually thought that she meant it that
time because for the first few days, my parents didn’t say anything about the party. But the Friday night when I was supposed to
go to the party, I went to my room after dinner as usual and pretended to be asleep for a
moment. After a few minutes, when I couldn’t hear
anything in the hallways, I decided that they had gone to sleep, so I put on the clothes
I had picked out for the party, and I opened my window to climb out. As soon as I touch down, I turn around, and
to my uttermost shock, my parents were standing in front of me, looking as disappointed as
ever. I try to reason with them, explaining that
the party was important to the athletes, but they decided to ground me anyway. Turns out that M had spilled the beans that
same day, after collecting my fifty bucks. At first, I was pissed off at myself for telling
her about my plan, but then, I remember that I didn’t really tell her. She figured it out, and there was nothing
I could have done about it. Then I got so pissed off. Like why couldn’t she just leave things
alone? If you know you can’t keep a secret, don’t
go looking for one. For the longest time that night, I didn’t
really sleep. I was so pissed off, that revenge was the
only thing I had in mind. As I paced the room, my eyes fell on a tube
of glue, which I had used earlier for something. Without thinking, I grabbed it and stepped
out of my room. It was late in the midnight already, and everyone
had gone to bed. My parents had locked my windows, so I couldn’t
sneak out anymore. I stepped into the hallway, then I pushed
open the door to M’s room. She was sleeping soundly, so I walked in. again without thinking, I opened the glue
tube, then poured it on her lips. Then I pressed them together. Ather a while, it stuck, and I went back to
my room. As i said, I was pissed off, so I wasn’t
thinking. It was just supposed to be a lesson to her,
not to spill my secrets anymore. I was woken up by her screams the next morning. She fainted twice during her panic, and it
was really fun to watch. Even though I got extra punishment for the
glue, it was worth it. M stayed away from me after that incident,
and she never tried to tell on me again.
