I know what you’re thinking, Anna, that is quite morbid. But I’ll tell you what, it’s true. My grandmother cared for and praised every little accomplishment, celebrated me, and made me feel worthy, loved, and capable.
Now with a child of my own, I feel a new sense of being loved unconditionally. It is by someone I have created. This is someone who loves me as I loved my grandmother. I say, I have come full circle, but that is a matter for another time.
I have pushed myself to go back to school. I left my abusive marriage and drowned myself in my old career. I navigated single parenting and custody. I also went through remarrying and adoption. Finally, I thought, I have found myself. I found a path that sings to me. I refuse to let another child, woman or family suffer in silence, or with lack of compassion. I need to do something, and here I am. One semester down, juggling motherhood, marriage and my own mental health.
You see, my grandmother, my mother really, has been gone for almost two years. I have never felt a loss so immense, so soul-wrenching. Each and every day, they say time heals all wounds. But does it really? When one leaves their abuser, it takes years, and years to become whole again. To find a sense of self worth, a sense of belonging, confidence and peace. I used to think going anywhere to see my grandmother, was like coming home. Even during the worst of my abuse, a weekend with her was a balm. She was my favorite blanket. It never left me cold.
And now I wake and rest my head everyday with a chill. My daughter is the reason I pull air into my lungs, and strive to be my best. Yet, who is there to cheer me on? to nurture me?
Something oddly profound that has stuck with me is that I got to know my husband as a friend. We were friends for some time. He was the first person I confided in some of the worst experiences of my life. He was a beacon that shone for me. I tried many times to shield my eyes or look away. I was afraid of what would be exposed. Nevertheless, I shared openly, and in return, so did he. As I explored his online presence, I found an old social media post. For some reason, it still guts me to this day.
An appreciation post, to his then significant other, for finishing school, finals and accomplishing her goals. When I first read it, I felt a pang of grief. It was for something I have never had in a romantic relationship: pride. Nobody ever felt pride over me in this way. I distinctly remember driving with my daughter to my grandparents’ house. I lay on the couch while my grandmother brushed my curls. I watched my daughter play with the dolls they always had for her.
Asking her, if she was disappointed in how my life turned out. She told me “You and your sister are the best things to happen to me and poppy.” That was true until _____ of course. My daughter of course, but I won’t share her beautiful name here. Yet, imagine a small child. She has the most symmetrical round face, wisps of brown hair, and the biggest hazel eyes.
I didn’t have her soothing presence to ease my pain during the worst of the custody battle. The night she passed, we dropped everything and came. I remember walking in. That was the only thing she cared about: court. Tell her nothing was wrong, tell her the baby was fine. I’d like to think she would never have left me. If she only knew the hell we were going to face later that month.
She kept every newspaper cutout, school award and report card. She kept every photo of my daughter. I wish, more than anything on this planet, that I could call and tell her. My daughter is safe, happy, and thriving. She has been adopted by the man she loved for us. She had hoped he could heal our hearts after so much heartbreak. Additionally, I made it through the first semester, and I did well. I didn’t quit when my health threatened me with bad news. I didn’t quit on the days I only wanted to exist as a mom. I just wanted to go back to the warm bed next to my daughter.
My family is large. My friend group is small. Still, nobody is proud of me. Is it selfish and vain to want someone to be proud of me? Is it the years of abuse? Is it being called horrid names? Is it the fear of never amounting to anything that demands it of me, this validation?
I wanted to quit, I really did. I didn’t think I was cut out for it. There were so many younger students around. There were few my age or older. There was so much new technology, expectations, and changes. I love learning. I wish being a scholar was a career. I want it to be one I could complete in a small bubble. In that bubble, the social world cannot get to me. But as much as I want to make friends, it is so difficult. I had one professor, who really made a difference by just being enjoyable, relatable, and honestly amiable.
A majority in my life, I have just been something to take space, a number, someone who performs a responsibility. Since a small age, I have only ever wanted to be a mother, a wife and helpful to others. But for so much of it, I have been constantly kicked down, figuratively and literally, I suppose. I want to push my daughter to pursue her dreams. I want to ensure she knows how proud of her I am along the way. When she falls, I will be there to encourage her to get back up. If she can’t, I will be there to pick her back up.
I have had many therapists, advocates and counselors. All of said, it takes time. It takes time to find myself, to feel pride in myself, and to find my self-confidence. It also takes time to develop a sense of self-worth. My needs were not being met. I was in a state of survival. One cannot reach self-actualization this way. Yet, I ask myself now; how am I ever going to reach it? I feel like the only one proud of myself in those around me is me.
How does one reach their fullest potential? How does one become their best self when their own closest connections do not consider them worthy? What can you do now that the one person who saw you as worthy is no longer here? They saw you as capable of so many things. The only people left in their absence hardly notice your existence.
The questions left are: How does one reach their fullest potential after abuse with a limited support system?
How does one become their best self when their own closest connections do not consider them worthy?
What can you do now that the one person who saw you as worthy is no longer here?
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