Why I Was an Advocate for My Dying Mother

Even though she mistreated me my entire life

This sweet-looking lady is not my mother. Photo by Vladimir Soares on Unsplash

My relationship with my mom had always been complicated.

She got pregnant by mistake in the ‘60s. That pregnancy was me. She hastily married my father, then two years later had my little brother. At twenty-three years old, she was entrenched in an abusive marriage with two babes. She wanted freedom. So, she kicked my dad out and carried on in her single life with two little kids in tow.

The ’70s were a tumultuous time of cultural change. Young adults were rebelling, and it showed in their music, their clothing, and their lifestyle of sexual freedom. My mom dived in fully.

However, her bohemian lifestyle brought a lot of danger into my and my brother’s lives. My childhood memories are full of neglect, violence, sexual assault, and self-inflicted harm.

The Commodity Child

As a first-born child, my mom saw me as a commodity to meet her needs. Since she gave me life, I was her servant. She even mentioned to her friends that she had kids so someone would clean the house.

My mom used me to do all the tasks she should have done as a parent; clean, cook, and take care of my little brother. I had become a parentified child by the time I was five years old.

As I grew up in the chaos of my mother’s life, I learned how to care for myself and my brother. I had no other choice, and I didn’t know any better.

She wanted to be a carefree spirit but needed a workhorse to do all of her adulting. So I was groomed to be that serious, responsible adult in a little girl’s body.

I learned how to adult at a very young age.

Being a Parentified Child Continues in Adulthood

My mom controlled me by demanding I put her first and ladled on the guilt if I wanted to do something for me (like go to a friend’s house or do extra-curricular activities I enjoyed). She controlled me (and others) by insisting on her way or the highway. If it was the highway, she was horrible; she held a grudge, cut that person down, and cut off all communication, sometimes for months. Sometimes it was forever.