Anchored

I'm just going to get right into it Y'all. Yes, I'm from the good ole South and you can't tell me you didn't read that with a southern accent. Mine even got a little thicker.

On a serious note, This is an excerpt. An excerpt into my life.

I was around eight years old when my life changed. My mom got hurt on the job to the point of no return. Apparently tearing ligaments is worse than a broken bone. I'll never forget that day. My mom pulled into the driveway in her Scion xB, or as we liked to call it the toaster oven on wheels.

I came out of the garage door not knowing what to expect. She got out of the car with her arm held tight to her chest wrapped in a sling. I remember asking her what happened. Her response was I fell.

Her pain was palpable. I had to step up, she needed me. She needed me more than I thought I needed her. My mom's pain only started in her physical body. It eventually spread to her mind. The twisted despair is known as the depression. The depression that leaves you blind to the world around you. The depression that took my mother away.

The depression that anchored my family.

She began drowning in her inability to do what she loved. One surgery eventually turned into three cuts, stitches, and wounds. The only thing that came was more pain. Mentally and physically drained of it all. Time wasn't on our side. The depression only progressed.

In the midst of all this, my parents got a divorce. Their divorce wasn't due to my mom's inability to help her self. My dad loved her, he cherished her even. Let's just say it takes two to be in a relationship. My dad loved her hard. Things were done that just can't be forgiven. Their relationship was toxic. Full of empty promises. My dad pulled tightly on his anchor, and it was for the best. Looking back it was in my best interest as well. Mind you, I and my mom's relationship has always been more of a friend to friend. My dad was the stern disciplinary. Of course in my pre-teen years, I loved my mom being my friend more than my parent. I had no idea of the impact it would have on my life at the time.

Eventually, I realized I need a mother, not a friend. It was far too late. I got out a few times. I would go live with my dad and say it was final, only to feel tightly bound pulls on my new placed anchor. My mom had a way with her words as well as her money. I was young, I didn't know any better. I was being bought, bribed and blinded by my innocence. It broke my dad's heart to see me be manipulated. There was nothing he could do but watch it play out and wait for my call.

I just wanted a mother. To the point of continuously trying to change her. My efforts only hurt me in the long run. I would come home from school to a blacked out house. Blankets were our form of curtains. It blocked out the light better. I can't tell you the amount of Domino's pizza boxes we had stacked up in our kitchen. The number of dirty dishes left in the sink, not for days, weeks. I was tired. Tired of giving and not receiving. Receiving what I truly wanted. I did not want money, clothes, the ability to go to my friend's house whenever I asked. A mother. I truly wanted a mother.

I chose to share this extremely personal part of my life in hopes that someone can relate. Also, to set it free. I will no longer be Anchored.