I wasn't always an easy child for my mother to raise. Looking back, I'm so ashamed of the way that I treated her at times. I am amazed that she didn't lock me in a closet and throw away the key. There were days that it would have been so much easier for her to just run away and wash her hands of me... easier to cut her losses and give up on the mean girl that I had become. But she didn't. She loved me.

The older I got, the more difficult I became. I hated the world. Especially her. To this day, I honestly don't know why. Every drop of teenage angst that flowed through my veins was hurled at her... my poor mother. I spewed venomous words and called her unthinkable names. I betrayed her trust and revealed her secrets. I favored my father and never missed an opportunity to throw it in her face. I blamed her and ignored her and belittled her. But, somehow, through it all, she loved me.

As I entered adulthood, my mental health began to deteriorate. Confused, embarrassed, and feeling alone, I confided in my mother. She listened. She understood. She comforted me, the way only a mother can. When I felt overwhelmed and out of control, my mother held me in her arms and rocked me like a baby. When I was at my lowest of lows, she raised me back up. When I was surrounded by the darkness of sorrow and ready to jump, she showed me light and talked me down off the ledge. When I felt like I couldn't move forward, my mother carried me with her kindness. She loved me.

Now that I'm grown, with children of my own, I can't imagine how hard it must have been on her to raise such an ungrateful and disrespectful daughter. After her own painful upbringing, she didn't deserve the things I did to her... the hateful words I said to her... the evil way I treated her. She didn't deserve it, but she endured it. Not because she had to. It was because she loved me.



I love you, Little Momma!

Be sure to check out my amazing mother at MiMi Needs Meds. Read the stories of her life, marvel at her strength, and be inspired by her bravery.