Suddenly I was free of everything my mother made me believe I was


I have been trying to write this 20th day for weeks now, day after day I get my pen and notebook to get stuck somewhere in the first paragraph. Sixteen pages with no more than five lines are before this one, trying to describe an event that truly changed something for me, maybe too much, because even weeks later I still can’t find the words to describe what happened exactly. I’m stuck but at the same time lighter than I have ever been before. I feel like I broke free from something that has always been holding me back, I feel peace and space, I feel a positivity I have never felt before, I feel happy, worthy, secure… I just feel completely different in a very good way.

The change in me happened when I bruised my hand boxing away the anger I felt for my mother, after a phone call that truly upset me. It was a strange experience, I imagined my bag to be my mother, I started punching while thinking about our conversation and with every hit her presence in my room became more real while my anger increased to a point that exceeded any feeling of anger I have ever felt before. I jelled, I punched, I kicked, I cried… And suddenly I felt free, free of everything my mother made me believe I was, free to be myself.

The reason I started boxing was the advice of my psychologist in an emergency appointment after the phone call with my mother which left me with an indomitable chaos inside my mind. I had to try to get angry and finally let it out he said. Because what happened in the call was allowed to make me angry, I should have gotten angry…

It all started with my mother who kept saying we, without including me. Her we included three people, herself, my father and my sister, the three of them without me. I wasn’t in my mothers we like I have never been but this time I felt how much this hurt me and decided to share this feeling with her, I told her that I felt sad about not being a part of them, my family.

My mother responded to this emotion of mine in a way I did not expect but am too familiar with. She responded as if I was my four year old self again, saying the sentences I heard so many times and truly believed in, only this time they no longer made sense to me. Her reaction wasn’t right, what she said wasn’t true and for the first time I noticed that it had never been my fault, she had never been fair.

When I told my mother I felt hurt by her choice of words, she reacted with ten minutes of painful sentences like:

“There are so many things you do that hurt me but you don’t hear me complaining do you?!”
“Every time I’m good to you, you start a fight! You should be thankful that I’m still willing to talk to you”
“You have to understand that this world doesn’t evolve around you!”
“How can you be so unfair to your mother? I don’t deserve any of your blame!”
“You have to know that I won’t let you command me!”

It was like my mother opened the book of bad parenting I learned by heart, repeating the expressions that made me believe I was a bad kid, so many years ago. Hearing these sentences today though, as a reaction to something I knew I should be allowed to say, made me realize that I have never been what she made me believe I was, I was never wrong, my mother was.

Right after the call I cried for hours, my mother had been so unfair to me, she attacked me, she had been mean for no reason. How could she do this to her own daughter? How could she have done this to me when I was just a little girl? How can a mother hurt her child so much with words like these?

I felt so much pain and disbelieve, I felt so hurt by her, damaged and small. I felt anger, how could she have done this to me? But then my thoughts took over, putting me in a never-ending chaotic loop of doubt. She was so unfair, but a mother can not be like this, I must have done something wrong, she can not be this mean, I must have done something, but I just shared a feeling, what did I say, what did I do, I can not believe it…

Boxing ended my loop, it allowed me to say, yes, my mother was unfair to me and the she has always been. Her reaction to the child I once was wasn’t what I deserved, I wasn’t commanding, I wasn’t hurting my mother, I wasn’t too needy or selfish. I was the victim of my mother’s insecurities! Unfortunately it took me almost thirty years and a bruised hand to understand this, but now that I do, I am finally free of her, I can finally start my life, I can finally be me!

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