As a child and young adult, I could never understand why my mother rejected me and never showed her love towards me. She always seemed distant, callous and cold hearted.
In the summer months, she locked us children out of the house until late afternoon. She didn’t want to be bothered with us.
Often, I acted in anger for her lack of protection and love. She stopped doing her job. I resented her actions or lack thereof, and a deep hatred for her grew in my heart.
I began using hatred as a coping mechanism to ease the pain of feeling unloved. It was easier to feel hatred as opposed to acknowledging the pain of rejection.
After leaving home at eighteen and giving birth to my first child, Anthony, her rejection was passed onto my children too.
I remember being in the same Laundromat with her one day. We were both doing laundry on opposite sides of the room. Anthony was sitting in a stroller.
I went over to her and asked her; “don’t you even want to look at your grandson?”
My heart broke at her final act of rejection.
She never looked down at Anthony, not once did she acknowledge his presence. She never came to check on me. She never helped me, and now she rejected my son and her grandson.
Her rejection of him sealed my heart with hatred for her until the day she died. She had become a thorn in my heart. My mother was the one I could not forgive easily.
She was my mother.
She was supposed to love me.
She was supposed to protect me from harm.
I loved her deep down inside. I desperately wanted a mother to love me. She never did. She was only capable of pushing love away from her.
My mother’s lack of love and rejection affected me greatly. All of my adult life, I searched in vain to find love and acceptance. I learned to build up hatred in my heart when hurt or rejected and push love away from me.
I didn’t know about her struggles in life. I didn’t understand her pain and anguish until after her death. My mother kept her past a secret and never disclosed the contents of her heart.
My mother spent most her life pushing love away from her. She dealt with her past and abuse, her feelings of being unloved and rejected in her way.
Today, I understand by the grace of God.
My mother didn’t reject me. My mother was not capable of loving me. I’ve always been loved and never rejected or turned away. God has always loved me and never forsaken me. His love has cleansed my heart of hatred and enabled me to forgive my mother and the wrong doings of others.