The Story of How My Blind Mother Overcame Her Abuser and Set Herself Free

Though I know there is little significance to me posting something like this in a blog, reflecting on my youth and everything my mother and I went through together just gave me the idea to dedicate a space to her. I hope that upon your reading this, it maybe inspires you to give your mother (or whoever played a similar role in your life) a phone call and let him/her know how grateful you are for their contribution to your life.

This is my mother and I on our first good Christmas together after she had left my father. Though it seems like just any old picture, I will always remember this as the day that she finally felt okay about the Holiday, even though it was just the two of us together.

When I was younger, from the age of around 11 - 18, I struggled to deal with a common conflict that so many teens face at home in America - determining which example to follow when your parents have wildly different perspectives and don't get along. In hindsight, it should have been clear to me that my mother was being victimized, but my father manipulated my take the situation in such a way that led me to believe it was okay to disrespect my mother, and that she was an evil person. I remember how much that belief was challenged when I would wake up on a school night to my dad (drunk/high as a kite) having backed my mother into the closet, shouting relentlessly at her at 3AM, usually regarding her 'foolishness' for being a Christian or some other irrelevant thing to be shouting about at 3AM. After countless breakdowns, I couldn't stand one more moment of her crying in my arms about how she wanted things to work so badly despite the fact that he was a addicted, unfaithful, narcissistic, and self-centered person that truly found joy in her suffering. So, I made a difficult decision, and decided to tell her that she needed to leave my dad despite me being 15 at the time and knowing that that would leave me stuck with him.

This transition left her completely broken (to say the least) for the remaining time I spent in high school. The gravity of that situation never quite hit me until I tried to wrap my mind around just what the hell it would be like to be blind since birth, tragically fall from a 35 year marriage, no longer see your son on a regular basis, and live completely alone in an apartment. Well, completely alone aside from her guide dog, Ursalynn.

(pictured: Ursalynn)

I believe that having her dog around truly made a world of difference in her emotional recovery, which is the wonderful thing about dogs - there is no one else in the world who thinks you are cooler than your very own furry friend. After two years, she finally began to be able to sleep through the night again (though she still has regular troubles with sleep) and shake off some of the traumatic emotional residue that was left by her former partner, which was actually faster than I had predicted. It was really through this time that I realized how important it was to persist on your quest to happiness and freedom. I couldn't even imagine trying to rebuild my life at 58 after being so used to one assisted routine for your whole life, but somehow she did it. She wasn't always positive, and some days were worse than others, but each day she looked at all the suffering in the world and realized that her life, as damaged and unfair as it had been, was undoubtedly a gift beyond value in every way.

She finally began to resume her passions of playing piano, singing, and bird watching (though technically I suppose this would be more so considered 'bird listening'). I still couldn't believe that she managed (and still manages) to take care of herself completely, get to and from her full-time job every day, and still lead worship at her church on a weekly basis. She even landed an interview in the largest newspaper in our area for her knowledge on birds and bird calls.

(Her rendition of a classic piece that I don't care for but still love hearing her play)

Anyways, I've rambled on too long for not even knowing whether or not anyone will read this, but I'm glad I could share it anyways. The cliche moral of my story - stop stressing the little things. Every time you wish for something bigger and better, there is always someone beneath you wishing they had it like you do. No matter what types of f****d up people turn up in your life, never be afraid to break free from the pain that they bring you and put your own happiness first. You are a gift and you are most certainly loved.

If this actually receives any votes, maybe I can pass the reward along to her as a gift from all the empathetic people on this awesome blog.

Thank you.