The Woman Who Hurt Me

The Woman Who Hurt Me gave up on this accident too easily. I mean, she had just turned 16 and so I can't blame her for not wanting a baby yet, but still. Honestly I'm happy she gave me up so easily, I can't imagine what my life would have been like otherwise. But her giving me up isn't how she hurt me the most.

The Woman Who Hurt Me was always in and out of my life, so I can't say she was a completely absent mother. There were the times she would take me to her friends house, like the time I discovered the marijuana plant growing under one of their couches. Or sometimes I'd spend the night at her house where she would lock The Boy With My Blood and I in the bedroom while she and her company would do drugs. But it wasn't her drug use that hurt me the most.

I can remember the exact moment as a child when I realized I could never count on The Woman Who Hurt Me to be a real mother to me. She had promised to take me to see a movie and I was so excited to get to spend time with her, but once again she called and cancelled. I stood in the kitchen crying as The Woman Who Shaped Me tried to make me feel better when I vowed to never believe in The Woman Who Hurt Me again. But not being able to ever believe or trust in her isn't how she hurt me the most.

All the important moments she missed, all the letdowns, all the embarrassment she caused, all of these things hurt me, but none of them was how The Woman Who Hurt Me hurt me the most. What hurt the most was witnessing again and again how The Woman Who Hurt Me hurt The Woman Who Shaped Me and The Boy With My Blood. Unlike me, they always believed in her, always thought that maybe this time she would be different. Each time she would put on a good show, and maybe even put forth a real effort, but in the end they were always left heartbroken and angry, and I was powerless to protect them from that.

Making the decision to never believe in The Woman Who Hurt Me so early on in life helped me not carry around the anger and disappointment that would prevent me from having somewhat of a relationship with her. The Woman Who Hurt Me was the first person in my family I came out to and talked openly with when I started partying. When she has a phone we will text or chat almost everyday, even if it is just to say "I love you." At the funeral for The Woman Who Shaped Me I sat and held the hand of The Woman Who Hurt Me and tried to comfort her. No matter what, I can always say I do love her.

Sometimes I wish The Woman Who Hurt Me could have been a real mother, or that The Man With The Sperm could have been a real father, but what better people to learn from their mistakes and strive to be a better person and parent myself. And with people like my Aunt and The Woman Who Shaped Me raising me, it's almost like a blessing that I ended up with the parents I did.