Matriarch, WHO’S THE
the Mother, or the Child?
My mother’s strength was undeniable, her love for me and my sister Tami was fierce. Although she put herself first, she sacrificed for us. She moved us to Pennsylvania, away from the pain in Buffalo, NY that she lived with. My mother was a hard worker. She demanded respect and would cut you off if she felt you disrespecting her. She also was an alcoholic and sadly never admitted that. Outside it would appear to everyone that she was the Matriarch of the family and in some ways, she was, however, it was me who was the true BY RHONDA Matriarch of the family. I had to assume the role of a Matriarch at an early age of seven. My mother had many wonderful qualities, but she also neglected us and left us alone often to fend for ourselves. I sang my sister to sleep many nights, when I was seven and she was three years old. I tried so hard to keep the house clean and keep mom happy, hoping for a glimpse of her focused attention on me. Only to find her drunk and passed out on the couch! I would cover her up. I would make sure that the house remained cleaned, so she would not feel ashamed when she woke up. I always told her what a wonderful mother she was and how much I loved her. I often cooked for me and my sister. We lived on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, rigatoni or goulash that were two weeks old and hard. I washed clothes by hand when the washing machine didn’t work. At fourteen, I got a job to earn money for new school clothes for my sister and me. As a child, I was sick of never having new clothes for school! It took me writing this article to realized that I was the Matriarch of my family at age seven. I held the family together; I cared for my mother’s feelings more than my own as I tried to provide and protect my sister. It got to where I would take my emotions out on my little sister. When I became overwhelmed, I often would hurt my sister, which severed our relationship for most of our adulthood.
It was only when our mother died in 2011 that my sister and I finally came together, just like our mother said we would. The greatest things my mother taught me, and my sister were: always love each other, because one day you will be all that each of you have. The past few years we have found those words to be true! We only have each other to depend on!
L.
I have found compassion for my mother and have forgiven her for all the things that happened to me starting at age eight, THOMPSON physically, mentally, and sexually. It wasn’t until I discovered my mother’s life story that I saw the picture of the reflections in her life and how they effected the life of me and my sister. As an eight-year-old little girl my mother was waken up and beaten by her enraged alcoholic Father. I could imagine some of what she went through. How scared and lonely she was after being sent away for years to an orphanage by her own parents. This allows me to empathize with my mother and not resent her any longer. Just knowing how she grew up, helped me to understand my life of trauma, from her perspective. I’ve learned that a mother and daughter relationship can heal, even after one has passed away. I choose to heal; I choose to forgive my mother; I loved her and respected her while she was on this earth. I covered her nakedness and vulnerabilities rather than expose them; to protect her dignity; to honor her for everything she did right, not what she did wrong. I choose to see her and love her as God sees her and loves her. Best part of all, is that I get to say, Margaret Mary Millet aka Margie Harrison, was my mother and everything important and good in life that I needed to learn, she taught me. I am grateful, and I honor her. I am a Trauma Counselor, Coach and Speaker today. Trauma is my specialty. www.mdbn.org
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