I grew up in a chaotic household. My father was disconnected, an alcoholic and used money he made as a tool for guilt. My mother had a temper, so their fights would get loud and violent every weekend. Many times, police were called out because of it. I remember being eleven years old and hiding in my tiny closet, sobbing. I made a firm promise to myself that one day I would have my own family, and it would be happy and safe.
I heard you with a similar caller recently, and I felt my 11-year-old self getting a warm embrace from you. You told her she can let go of the urge to fix her family and so can I. I’ve always been the “odd” one in the family. My father, still an alcoholic, lives alone. My mother continues to blame the world for her problems. My brother got into drugs and married a lowlife, while another sibling never moved out, and is now 30 and jobless.
I, on the other hand, married a kind, gentle but strong and compassionate man, and we have two children. They are kind, warm and caring. I tell them that THEY are my most proud achievement. I love being a mom, and I feel pretty darned proud of myself for staying true to the promise I made to myself all those years ago. Our home is happy and safe. Music is always playing somewhere in the house. We laugh, read books while cuddling and dream about our springtime garden blooming.
Eternally grateful for what you do.
A longtime listener
I’m Proud of Myself
