Warning, rant ahead!!!

I will apologize in advance for this post. I have some family stress that I need to release. I like to think that I am over past hurts, that I have forgiven and forgotten and then something happens to remind me that at best, it's just a scabbed over wound. I have kept myself in emotional bondage by a lifetime of pretence that I was born and raised in a normal home. You know black folk don't talk about their mamas. If there is a problem, it has to be the child's perception and fault. This mindset has contributed to clinical depression off and on for several years of my adult life. But I'm done now.

My relationship with my mother has always been difficult. I love her, she is my mother after all. But I am ashamed to admit that if we did not share blood, she would not be someone I would ever associate with. There, I said it.

Ok, so here is the latest in a long line of crap I have had to take from her over the years. Some may know that my son is adopted. Truly, the BEST decision of my entire life; we struggle at times, but I would make the same decision over and over again. I didn't ask my mother's permission to adopt (I was well into my adulthood and a fully functioning independent adult, and so I didn't know that I needed to do so!). She continues to hold this against me. That's fine, that's her perogative, I suppose. I drew the line however when she started to express her anger at me onto my son. Hell to the F-, no!!!

When I confronted her about it, she declared that since she was not consulted in the adoption process, she did not feel that she needed to acknowledge him as a member of her family. She put me in a position that forced me to choose between my relationship with her and my son.

Anyway, we haven't spoken in almost 3 years.

This past summer, I was consciously working on releasing my anger towards her and trying to forgive her for this and other isht she has dished out over the years. So, she was invited to a party at my house on Memorial Day. She behaved herself, but I didn't like the way she looked at or interacted with my child and I couldn't blindly give my trust back to her and so conversations have been sporatic in recent months; typically, when she initiates.

Ok, I'm getting to the point. This past weekend, my 11 and 12 year old nieces spent the night with us. They are really great kids, my son adores them, they adore him; and between these pre-teens eating me out of house and home, we had a great visit!

The 12 year old and I were sitting out on the porch Saturday evening, just talking, catching up on school, friends, whatever. At one point, she asked me why I didn't take my son to visit with his grandmother anymore.

I took a sip of my soda, stalling, trying to think of a neutral response. I believe there are some things adults just don't need to talk to kids about. So, I stalled and asked her why she asked,

"Well, I just wondered. Grandma said that he wasn't her grandson."

I felt like she had hit me in the stomach.

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" I asked.

Anyway, the short of the story is that my niece overheard her grandmother talking to someone about the total number of grandchildren she had. The 12 year old thought her grandmother had mis-counted and reminded her about my son. My mother's response to my 12 year old niece was,

"No, he's not my grandson. He's just adopted."

And rather than start cussin' and screaming like I wanted to, I asked my niece,

"Hmm, so what do you think about that?"

"She's wrong, auntie. He's my cousin."

I barely held back tears.

Here's where I have a problem: it's bad enough that she displaces her anger at me onto my child. But then to go to my sister's daughter, who is also a child, and try to sow discontent among the children is just foul! (and immature and petty and meanspirited and just plain evil!).

I needed to say this out loud and I apologize again that I am airing out family garbage, but I need to let this go. I have forgiven the woman who birthed me, but I will never forget, because this kinda hatred (and yes, this type of hostility reaks of hatred) runs deep. I was a child when it started, so I'm not sure what I did to initiate it; actually, no, scratch that. I'm not owning this. There is something wrong with a person who feels this type of hatred towards their OWN child. It runs deep and no amount of the occasional nice words she tosses my way will erase this. I won't forget, but I will pray for her and her damnable soul.