I Get it From Her

I get it from her. I showed up for my biological dad’s funeral a little over two years ago. I don’t think many people expected me to go, and I can’t explain why I did. When his sisters, whom I hadn’t seen since I was very young, saw me, they knew exactly who I was. One of them hugged me and said she knew it was me because I looked exactly like my mom. I’ve heard that my entire life. I get certain very distinct features from my dad, but overall, I look like my mom.

Little Digression

Before we move on, I’d like to state that I understand that I could draw a larger audience by writing about super popular, catchy topics and posting more regularly. I have a following, and I know this because random people I encounter tell me they love my blog. I know what I need to do to make more money from this, but I’m willing to take it slow so I don’t sacrifice my authenticity and honesty. I never want my readers to feel like my goal is only to sell them something or make money from their insecurities.

Now, Let’s Get to the Tea

I’ve spoken publicly about my mother’s mental illness. My last post referenced how I believe she is the way she is because of my grandparents. That is my mom’s story to tell, so I won’t go into details about why I feel that way. As a child, I didn’t realize my mom was mentally ill. Because she was the only adult in my life who didn’t walk out on me, I viewed her as stable. As I get older, many things my mom did back then don’t make sense to me. I’ve also learned things about her that you’d think would make me hate her. My therapist says I have that right, but I can’t hate my mom. I love my mom. I think she’s strong and courageous but needs help she won’t get because her upbringing taught her that mental illness isn’t real.

What’s the Point?

Why am I writing about looking like my mom and her issues when the title of this entire post is I Get it From Her? Other than looks, what do I get from her? I’ve spent some time during the last year coming to terms with my childhood trauma, much of which my mom caused. She caused it because she didn’t know how to be a mother. My mom is incapable of showing affection or living a stable lifestyle. More recently, though, I’ve learned the ways I’m like her aside from my appearance and why I continue to choose to help her although she won’t help herself.

Let me provide some background before moving on. My mom quit school in 10^th grade. Until then, she had gone to school in a small, southern Mississippi town. To get away from an abusive situation, she ran away to Houston, TX. She enrolled in school there, only to learn that her Mississippi education wasn’t up to par with what sophomores elsewhere were learning. She didn’t know what to do, so she quit. She had family in Missouri and eventually ended up here, where she found herself pregnant at 19 (with me). Then again, at 21. Because of her conservative, Southern Baptist upbringing, she knew nothing about birth control or preventing pregnancy outside of abstinence. She just wanted to be loved and thought sex was love. That thought process resulted in two children at a young age when she had no resources, no money, no education, no training, and no supportive partner.

My mom never knew how to handle confrontation. She didn’t avoid it – she caused a scene. Once I was old enough to understand what was going on, her actions were usually humiliating. The thing is, she was trying to defend her girls and herself. It was just in a very inappropriate manner. This is often how uneducated people advocate for themselves and those they love because they never learned a different way.

I don’t mean formal college education when I say uneducated throughout this post. I mean uneducated in the most basic of things like speaking, writing, and critical thinking.

Add to the equation mental illness, and you’ve got someone set up to handle situations as if they’re all a crisis and require immediate attention. When a problem is actually a crisis, panic sets in, and impulse takes over.

What About Sam?

Like my mother, I won’t shut up. I tend to word-vomit when something doesn’t seem right or just. I stand up for others, especially those incapable of standing up for themselves. I’m not a well-behaved woman at all. Unlike my mother, religious beliefs and lack of education don’t stand in my way. I fight for myself and for those whose voice isn’t heard. I believe that’s my purpose and I get it from her. 

Like my mother, I don’t hate people. She may not show love or affection, but she definitely doesn’t hate. That woman will forgive anyone. I limit what and who I’ll forgive, but I certainly don’t hate. I know, I know, I know…there is one person I hate! Read about that here if you feel lost. 

How I ended up the way I did is a mystery. My stepdad played a role in it and other adults who came into my life during pivotal years. Not all those interactions were positive or good, but I learned something valuable from them. Based on statistics, I should have been pregnant as a teenager, and I certainly should not have a Ph.D. or the ability to hold a job. I somehow turned out okay, except for nagging anxiety and depression that sneaks up on me now and then. I took my mother’s qualities, like the ability and desire to use her voice, and honed those skills. I use them productively.

I admire my mother and her courage to get through life while facing the obstacles she faces daily. I wish she would accept help, and I wish she could quit being paranoid. But, I have to accept those realities if I choose to be part of her life.

What Does This Mean To You?

I read a lot of stories about cutting people off, and I know that sometimes that’s for the best. Before you make that decision, I want you to look inside yourself and decide if that’s what you want long-term. Put yourself in that person’s shoes. Although the story they tell may seem wild and exaggerated, they likely believe it. Helping people who don’t help themselves at all is hard. In my mom’s case, she is at least holding down a job right now. She’s living independently, and I assume she is paying her bills because she hasn’t been evicted. That’s something, especially for someone who has spent her entire life relying on someone else to care for her.

Whether the person you have in mind is a family member or friend, consider your impact on their life just by being in it. If their effect on your life is causing distress and hurting your health, then that’s a different story. There are people I will never talk to again on purpose, but my mother isn’t one of them. This personal decision shouldn’t be made by social media influencers or acquaintances who tell you to rid your life of all negativity.

Call to Action

Take time to journal about who helped shape you and the lessons you’ve learned from them. Good or bad. Are those people worth keeping in your life? Talk to a counselor or a trusted friend if you need to, but understand the decision is ultimately yours to make. 

Without my mom, there is no A Dash of Sam. I get it from her. 

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