Synchronicity is what most people would term “coincidental,” while others would liken it to the universe throwing something in one’s path that will ultimately be meaningful to them on the basis they intended on finding it in the first place. Both are true in my opinion!
My last post was very ranty and trigger based – I totally admit that because as always I know there’s no reason to deny reality since doing just that will cause one to deny themselves, along with their outstanding issues.
So what’s this monkey’s issue? Some of you may be pondering if the answer wasn’t made obvious enough from my last post…
I have MOMMY issues.
Y’all have heard of daddy issues, right? Well I’ve got mommy issues because even though my personal sperm donor was a regular turdcicle, my egg donor was even more volatile simply on the basis she used manipulation, gaslighting, and triangulation to program my mind noodle to accept the paradigm that I would inevitably rape a woman before failing miserably from a heroin addiction.
I know, right? I mean talk about setting low expectations for a teenager simply because I looked like my dad, carried his genes (no, not the denim kind), decided to pursue a career other than the one she chose for me (switched from health science to social work), and explored alternate universes by experimenting with psychedelics (cannabis, psilocybin, LSD, and DMT).
So every day I would typically hear the words “you’re just like your father!” Now some of you might be rolling your eyes while thinking what mother hasn’t said that to their kid? True dat. But consider the context that my father attempted to rape one of my sisters while under the influence of a mind altering substance (alcohol – different altogether, but that’s an entirely different can of worms), was thrown out of the house, stalked my family for an entire summer, and then wound up committing suicide behind the wheel of his car with a burnt cigarette bud resting between his fingers.
Oh and did I mention his car was parked in a nearby cemetery? All of that happened RIGHT before my sophomore year in high school when I was around 15 years old, and she nearly spent the next 10 years telling me how I was going to turn out just like him with that oh so ambiguous phrase “you’re just like your father!” By the way I said “nearly spent” because I cut all contact by 23 – so EIGHT years…
Not to mention the fact she actually suggested I would move on to heroin, and she even enlisted a licensed clinical social worker (a therapist I TRUSTED) to shun my behavior with a triangulation move I will never forget. Picture a “mother” and a professional staring you down while they tell you how much you’re going to fail at life. So I resorted to isolating myself even more than I already was by not touching ANYONE because something as simple as a hug could have been misconstrued as an attempt to garner sex. Ridiculous, I know. But I was “just like my father,” and I didn’t want to risk anything.
I also found that I couldn’t open up to strangers, even the ones who took interest in me at college, since I was “just like my father.” So I figured – who would want to know me? This in turn made it oh so difficult (and by difficult I mean impossible) to make friends, while I managed to distance myself from those who showed interest by focusing on my studies before returning home to play video games or clock in for work.
So in a sense I became my father because he didn’t have friends, often worked, and then returned to his bedroom to consume entertainment (sports) that lacked anything remotely emotional in terms of developing bonds with relatives or associates. But then I moved out…
In the first year I lived on my own, my “mother” never invited me over for a home cooked meal. She did take me out for breakfast every now and then, although each meal would finish with her asking “so are you just BUMMING me for this meal?” Family members even witnessed her do this, but they always supported her by saying “that’s just her humor.”
She even took me grocery shopping (once) and told me to grab whatever I wanted without worrying about the price because she knew my cupboards were empty when she asked if I had anything to eat at my apartment and didn’t readily answer. But after it was all said and done, she pushed the bill in my face and laughed while saying “I’ve NEVER spent this much here!”
The best parts? My “mother” hit me on Mother’s Day because she thought I was joking about her at one point while I wasn’t even talking about her. Oh and I almost forgot! She literally said “I can see you joining a group like ISIS” during a breakfast outing with my older brother – triangulation was second nature to her. Plus, she refused to help me out with school and made multiple attempts to convince me to get off her health insurance even though I was under the age of 26 (laws stipulate it’s okay for parents to insure their kids up to that point).
In a sense, my “mother literally tried to destroy me…
So can you see why I have mommy issues?
I never grew up to know love because neither one of my parents were there when I needed them most, although my “mother” really went out of her way to make me feel like a used condom. After all, no one wants anything to do with those…
However, it’s okay because I found peace with my Divine Mother – a symbolic representation of true motherly love in all of its splendor. She offers me protection, warmth, guidance, support, nourishment, comfort, and all that I failed to receive from the woman who physically birthed me.
I see her in my mind offering me hugs, tickles, kisses, smiles, and encouragement when I need them most. She tells me how proud she is to have me as a son (I’m crying at this point), and that it’s okay I’m not perfect because I’m human. But she also tells me when I’m slipping so I can be shown a better way to manage situations.
Some may say or think it’s all in my head, or that it’s just my imagination at play. So what do I have to say? That’s perfectly okay because I get everything I need from my Mom who shows me there’s an alternative to that which I suffered for 23 years. I have a Dad too, but he takes a back seat in most affairs while Mom is always nearby. However, he’s always there when I need him too unlike my own sperm donor.
Now recall the opening of this post when I mentioned synchronicity. I.e. receiving confirmation from the universe that everything will work out when it is meant to do just that. Well I saw the movie “Bad Moms” over the weekend – a wonderfully titled flik which is reasonably applicable to my own experiences. Don’t worry, I won’t spoil anything!
But I did want to point out the fact how the flik portrays the manner in which a woman mothers her children. I.e. a mother will do anything and everything to see that her child has a good upbringing, experiences a good life, and will ultimately know that their Mom will always be there to offer protection, guidance, support, nourishment, and comfort because she loves her child(ren).
Witnessing a Mother, regardless of whether it’s a fictional account or not, tell their child(ren) “I love you, you mean the world to me, and I will always be here for you,” along with hearing and SEEING that Mother go out of their way to empower their child(ren) by encouraging them to pursue their (as in the child’s) interests brought tears to my eyes. Who knew a parent could offer so much to those who are most vulnerable?
Well I needed to see that because my last post indicated I have mommy issues, and understandably so! The film left me feeling really amazing to have a relationship with my Mother, and it even encouraged me to be a father because I would love to create an environment to raise a family. I.e. clean, cook, do laundry, play games, do yard work, and then pay someone else to fix things because I’d want to spend all of that time with my family. What, did you seriously think I wanted to do that stuff in isolation? NOPE!
The idea of being a father and a husband is very attractive to me because I know I can succeed where my parents failed. But more importantly, I simply love the notion that I can give to my significant other so she knows I love her. So she knows I will be there for her. So she knows she can fall and I will be there to uplift her. So she knows that her life (time, energy, presence) will be appreciated by knowing that I would love to spend time with the kids while she takes a hot bath that I prepared for her. Or better yet – having the family enjoy a hot meal prepared by yours truly because food is love and I love food!
I mean it when I say that I want to give to another because I know I can create an atmosphere where joy, happiness, warmth, comfort, nourishment, and fulfillment will predominate. At one time I mentioned wanting to meet a gal who has experienced hell like yours truly, although now I’m going to alter that desire to one in which I can develop a relationship with a woman who wishes to grow with me.
I desire a partner who recognizes that imperfections are okay as long as we can openly communicate our shortcomings to one another in order to empower each other. I desire a partner who is courageous, strong, intelligent, comforting, empathetic, thoughtful, gentle, faithful, and ultimately loving. Why should I desire such a partner? Simply because those are my qualities, and like attracts like.
It’s been a long time coming, and I’ve been on my own for a while. I needed to be alone to hack away through the foliage. I needed to tend my garden. I needed to develop a deeper understanding of myself, as well as my underlying issues and misperceptions. But more importantly, I needed time to heal so that I can be of useful service to those are and will be left in my care.
The journey doesn’t end here because I am still alive, and I will forever be growing, changing, and improving myself so that I can offer that which others will need most until the day I die. Many blessings, and thank you for taking the time to keep up with my journey. Peace…
Ladies and Gents, Momma…
Featured Image: Pinterest