When I tell people I have not seen or spoken to my biological mother in 17 years, they appear to be surprised at first, then curious. There are dozens of explanations that could explain why my mother exited my life, but my audience never guesses the truth: I removed her from it.
The pivotal decision to stop seeing my mother, hereafter referred to as Janelle, was made at an age when that type of decision should not have been mine. Let me explain.
On a family camping weekend many summers ago, Janelle suddenly left my dad, my sister and I to finish camping on our own. It was not until the following week at home that I found out why she made that mysterious departure. Janelle informed my dad that she had been seeing a man from work and was leaving my dad to live with him. My dad, understandably upset, took an afternoon to throw all of Janelle’s belongings out the back door of our small two-story house. This reaction surprised me, but the most upsetting part of the whole day was seeing my dad cry for the first time in my life.
At that moment, a resentment for Janelle was born. My grudge materialized in my crappy attitude during any weekend I spent at Janelle and her boyfriend’s house. To leave school uninterrupted, my sister and I primarily lived with my dad during the week, and we visited Janelle and her boyfriend, John, every other weekend. It is funny that I knew life had changed when my dad struggled with my sister’s and my hair each morning. Although endearing, I learned to fix my own hair at an early age to avoid the low, loose bun that was my dad’s signature style.
A few months later, my parents celebrated my tenth birthday by finalizing their divorce. I was not the first of my friends to experience a broken home, and my best friend and I occasionally planned our great escapes. In fact, at a soccer game we were attending with our babysitter, I “ran away” to a neighborhood down the street. After a heart-to-heart with my dad, the dramatics ended and our new life resumed.
During my fourth grade year, my dad met my future step-mom, Shay. After several months of dating and mingling, my dad, sister and I moved in with Shay and her son. Visitation with Janelle continued, as did my lingering grudge. Although sometimes emotionally exhausting, life seemed to be moving on. That is, until another memorable summer day changed my life forever.
Janelle and John accepted one of those timeshare vacation packages to Branson, Missouri; you know, the ones that give you tickets to multiple events in the city in exchange for a 45-minute sales pitch. They decided to make it a family vacation, taking John’s two kids, my sister and me. The highlight of the weekend was a visit to Silver Dollar City, a popular theme park, and we planned to spend our last day there before heading back to my dad’s.
Janelle walked us kids up to the park entrance while John parked the car. To my surprise, though, she handed us our tickets and her Nokia cell phone. She explained that her and John would attend the short timeshare meeting and then meet us in the part shortly after. She specified where we would meet and when, and then she stayed long enough to see us walk through the ticket gate and into the park.
I felt uneasy about this trip because of the four kids. I was the oldest at twelve years old. My sister was two years younger than me, and John’s kids were around seven and five years old. Running around the park with me in charge seemed like a bad idea, but I did not put up a fight. Used to the responsibility of the oldest, I decided to take on the challenge.
For the next few hours, the four of us went from ride to ride, enjoying the park. When it came time to meet our parents at the agreed upon bench, we sat and waited. And waited. After what seemed to be a reasonable amount of time to be late, I decided to call for an ETA from Janelle. I pulled out the phone and saw that the giant cellular brick we were carrying around was dead.
Finally, about two hours later than planned, Janelle and John rolled up to the bench. Despite a looming deadline to meet my dad at five, they decided we still needed to explore the park as a family. My anger stayed in check until we were hundreds of feet underground in the park’s caves. While visitors were admiring the stalactites and stalagmites, I was obsessively checking the time and worrying about being late to meet Dad.
When my sister and I were finally arrived home, my Dad and Shay were livid. I can still remember that conversation. I was in a bubblegum pink button-up sleeveless tank top that matched my sister’s blue one. Through tears of frustration, I explained what happened at the park. It was in that intense conversation that I made the decision to cut Janelle out.
On Janelle’s next weekend, I walked up to her car as usual. However, I did not hop in the back seat. I motioned for Janelle to roll her window down, and I confidently said, “I am not going with you.”
Janelle rolled her eyes and replied, “Lee, get in.”
We went back and forth a couple of times, but I finally said, “If you want me to come with you, you will have to physically pick me up and put me in your car.”
About a minute later, she says, “Fine.” Then she rolled her window up and screeched out of the parking lot.
Some will argue that this decision was not mine to make. This may be true, but other than a couple of phone calls later that year, Janelle quit trying to reach out. This type of relationship, or lack thereof, would have been more traumatic had it not been for my step-mom Shay. Although not perfect, my life went on, and I still had the support of two parents. At home, us kids had chores to complete and expectations of behaviors that some would call strict. My sister was not a fan because she did not have all of those restrictions at Janelle’s house went she visited every other weekend. After a brush up with Shay, my sister made the decision to live at Janelle’s full-time.
Janelle eventually remarried, although it was not John, and my sister graduated high school. It was not until years later that I found out how much freedom my sister had at home. She occasionally fell into the wrong crowd and had a pregnancy scare with her older boss at Hollister.
Believe me, I am not a holier-than-thou type. Knowing my personality, my life would have turned out differently had I stayed with Janelle. The few times I tried the typical teenage antics – lying about a sleepover to attend a senior party and trying to date an older guy – my parents shut it down immediately. I spent my time grounded by listening to emo music and writing sad poetry. However, I was able to recognize the value in my parents’ guidance even just a few years later. Instead of graduating college, I could have been the one falling into the wrong crowd or getting pregnant in high school.
One angry summer day pushed me toward a decision that changed my life forever. Although I held a grudge against Janele for cheating on my dad and leaving us, I ultimately cut her out of my life to spite her. She contradicted my idea of what a mother should and should not do, and I reacted emotionally.
Judging by my tone, you could infer that the grudge still exists. There is no question that the hurt is still there, but I in all actuality, I am grateful to Janelle for helping me make a decision based on my best interests, even if I did not realize the magnitude of it at the time. If Janelle were to call me out of the blue or run into me on the street, I would not berate her or belittle her. I would have only three words to say.
I forgive you.
Lee Vince 