Who’s the Matriarch, the Mother, or the Child?

Matriarch, WHO’S THE the Mother, or the Child?

My mother’s strength was It was only when our mother undeniable, her love for me died in 2011 that my sister and and my sister Tami was fierce. I finally came together, just like Although she put herself first, our mother said we would. The she sacrificed for us. She moved greatest things my mother taught us to Pennsylvania, away from me, and my sister were: always the pain in Buffalo, NY that she love each other, because one lived with. My mother was a hard day you will be all that each of worker. She demanded respect you have. The past few years we and would cut you off if she felt have found those words to be you disrespecting her. She also true! We only have each other to was an alcoholic and sadly never depend on! admitted that. Outside it would I have found compassion for appear to everyone that she was my mother and have forgiven her the Matriarch of the family and for all the things that happened in some ways, she was, however, to me starting at age eight, it was me who was the true BY RHONDA L. THOMPSON physically, mentally, and sexually. Matriarch of the family. I had to It wasn’t until I discovered my assume the role of a Matriarch at an early age of seven. mother’s life story that I saw the picture of the reflections in

My mother had many wonderful qualities, but she also her life and how they effected the life of me and my sister. neglected us and left us alone often to fend for ourselves. As an eight-year-old little girl my mother was waken I sang my sister to sleep many nights, when I was seven up and beaten by her enraged alcoholic Father. I could and she was three years old. I tried so hard to keep the imagine some of what she went through. How scared house clean and keep mom happy, hoping for a glimpse and lonely she was after being sent away for years to of her focused attention on me. Only to find her drunk and an orphanage by her own parents. This allows me to passed out on the couch! I would cover her up. I would empathize with my mother and not resent her any longer. make sure that the house remained cleaned, so she would Just knowing how she grew up, helped me to understand not feel ashamed when she woke up. I always told her what my life of trauma, from her perspective. a wonderful mother she was and how much I loved her. I’ve learned that a mother and daughter relationship can

I often cooked for me and my sister. We lived on peanut heal, even after one has passed away. I choose to heal; I butter and jelly sandwiches, rigatoni or goulash that were choose to forgive my mother; I loved her and respected two weeks old and hard. I washed clothes by hand when her while she was on this earth. I covered her nakedness the washing machine didn’t work. At fourteen, I got a job to and vulnerabilities rather than expose them; to protect her earn money for new school clothes for my sister and me. As dignity; to honor her for everything she did right, not what a child, I was sick of never having new clothes for school! she did wrong. I choose to see her and love her as God sees

It took me writing this article to realized that I was the her and loves her. Matriarch of my family at age seven. I held the family Best part of all, is that I get to say, Margaret Mary Millet aka together; I cared for my mother’s feelings more than my Margie Harrison, was my mother and everything important own as I tried to provide and protect my sister. It got to and good in life that I needed to learn, she taught me. I am where I would take my emotions out on my little sister. grateful, and I honor her. When I became overwhelmed, I often would hurt my sister, I am a Trauma Counselor, Coach and Speaker today. which severed our relationship for most of our adulthood. Trauma is my specialty.