The Bright Side of Worrying Too Much
Growing up around my mother meant growing up around several male influences.
I will justify that statement by saying that my mother is not a terrible person. I never doubted that my mother cared about me, but I knew from a young age that I did, and always will, care about her more than she cared about me. Some might think this thought selfish, but you, the reader of this essay must first understand why my mother is the way she is.
In an attempt to make a long story short, my mother grew up without a father. She grew up without the kind of love and sense of importance that one can only receive from a father. At the risk of sounding like a therapist, this deprivation affects my mother now more than it ever did when she was a child. When I said that growing up around my mother meant growing up around several male influences, I meant that she has been with several men over the recent years. This is my mother’s attempt to fill the void of not having a male influence when she was younger.
I am sure that the question of how this affects me was raised in the last paragraphs. This is precisely the point that I am trying to make. I remember that when I was in the seventh grade, I realized that there was a pattern in my mother’s relationships. She would fall for them in a short amount of time, and they would break her heart. This type of thing happened repeatedly. I did not have to understand love at this age to understand how badly this hurt her. Whether my mother knew it or not, when she got her heart broken, she would place her burden upon me. She would tell me about what had gone wrong or what she should have done. This was when I came to the conclusion that I could no longer be a child around her. I had to be strong enough for the both of us.
I am not bitter about this in the least. If anything, I thank my mother for putting me through ordeals because they have made me who I am today. I find that even though this is no longer my life, I am still using the defense mechanism of taking the happiness of others into my own hands to take my mind off of my own. My brother is a most prominent example of this. I often find myself worried about his gaining the bleak and negative opinions on relationships that I gathered from viewing my mother’s. I have often heard that I worry too much, but this is what I believe in. I believe in being strong for others and not giving them false hope, but honest reassurance.
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