Yesterday, I visited my mom. A little while ago she had an injury that made it painful to walk. She stopped walking because of it and now she can’t walk. Her take on it is that it isn’t her fault and if it were up to her, she’d be walking right now. When I heard her say that, I realized that even though our co-dependent relationship was hurtful and damaging in ways that I am still discovering, my mother’s weaknesses gave me strength.
For my mom, nothing is her fault and everyone else is to blame. When it comes to losing weight or quitting smoking, she never could do it because it was too hard, and no one would give her the support and help that she needed to be able to do it. I can’t imagine going through life feeling totally powerless thinking that I couldn’t change anything in my own life because only outside forces could create any change in my own life. It’s no wonder she spent her entire life trying to manipulate anyone and everything she could.
For me, I was her scapegoat. I was always to blame. Everything was my fault. It seems like that would be a bad thing, but it gave me strength. I started to believe that I had the power to change my life. If there was something wrong in my life, no one else was to blame, but me. If I wanted my life to be different, then all I had to do was take action. I learned from a very early age that I can shape my own reality. For all the pain and hurt that she caused me, even when she was trying to bring me down by blaming me, I was still able to find the light from it.
When I look at her lying in bed now or think about the rest of my family, the only thing that I honestly regret is that their paths didn’t go the same direction as mine. I know that God has a plan for every one of us, I try to have faith in that plan, but sometimes when I think of them, it’s a struggle.
My faith saved me. May God’s peace reside in all of our hearts.
