Thank you for all the love regarding yesterday’s post. Your support means the world to me. Truly.
I am still riding the high from running and registering for the race as mentioned in my previous post. However, in terms of support it’s lacking from one important person in my life.
I really can’t explain how ecstatic I was on Saturday. Running a mile + and registering for a big race has left me glowing for days. Of course I couldn’t wait to share the news with all of you, but I also wanted to share with my parents.
I rushed to find my parents and blurted the news out to my mom the moment I saw her. Her response?
“That’s stupid. I don’t know why you waste your money at the gym or on races. You’re still fat and you won’t ever stick with it.”
Insert a knife into my heart…
In between tears the only thing I could think to say was “Don’t you want me to have goals? Or be somebody?”
At this point my mother turned and walked away from me. The subject didn’t surface again until Easter lunch on Sunday when my brother asked about the race and again my mother voiced her disapproval. No one said a word and eventually the conversation shifted again.
As an adopted child I always feel like I have to be better and do more to ensure I have my mother’s love. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a place in her heart or in the family. Feeling like I am not good enough for her is a hard pill to swallow. I pray for the moment when she is behind me 100% of the way. I wish she was a mother that wants to celebrate my victories with me. Helping and encouraging me to reach my goals instead of belittling me.
I should be used to the lack of affection because this is how my mother operates. I can’t quite put it to words but in many ways I feel empty. I am missing something, love and support from my mother.
As for my father? He is a quite man but even through his silence I know he supports me and loves me unconditionally. My dad has always been there for me and I am still his little girl.
Throughout my life I vividly remember my dad being there in some way, and always really supportive. Only a hand full of times can I remember my mother’s presence and when she was there it was normally at her benefit. That is still how it goes to this day.
For my most recent 5k, Berry Patch 5k, neither of my parents were there. I didn’t ask my dad as it was my first one of this race season and really early, but I don’t doubt he would have come had I asked. My mother had already told me she was “busy” that day.
Alex’s parents were there cheering and taking pictures. They told us how proud they were, but they aren’t my parents. More specifically, they aren’t my mother.
It stings. I cry. I get myself worked up. Then I try to do something bigger and better to get my mother’s attention.
Maybe what I really want her to say is “I am proud of you and I love you”
That would be a satisfying start.