{ Motherless Daughters } uniting those experiencing motherloss

Our Stories

Tamara's Story

My name is Tamara, and I lost my mother to substance abuse when I was 6 years old. I have no real knowledge of her since my siblings and I were separated and raised amongst close family members while my parents were being tried for their heroine addictions. Unfortunately, my mother lost her battle with life when she was 28, and left 4 confused children behind.

The trauma strenghtened my family but separated my young siblings and I because we all felt weird to say the least. I remember the last time I saw my mother alive was when she and my father were fighting over a television that he decided to sell for money. I remember peering between the bars of my playpen as they argued and it still seems as if am peering through the bars of my silent prison to this day.

I am a good actress, at least I think, because I learned to push my feelings of lost deep into my mind and lock it there. I figured that if I became everything that she wasn't, then, I would be fine, so I became studious in grade school with minor adolescent bumps, and then I was considered popular in highschool but when graduation came around and my freshman year of college trickled in I was emotionally constipated. I never cried over anything during those years of growing because I felt it would make me weak, and I barely acknowledge my mother's "disappearance" until my grandmother died of cancer when I was 16. I felt dupped by God because He took my second mother from me, and now I was a parent to my father's nonsense, because he continued to self medicate.

I had my younger uncle's become the role model because I along with my brothers were in there care and as I said before I decided to push the pain back. However, when I went to college I felt that "weird" feeling resurface, because before I left for school I decided to visit my mother's burial site for the first time. A lump formed in my chest and rose to my throat without hestitation and I trembled. I stood outside with my brothers behind me almost vomiting because I finally realized that my mother was somewhere under the soil and it hit me entirely too hard for words.

I remember one incident, of many that will be locked in my memory forever; it was the first day of college, and I was a freshman at Howard University, I gloated because I was in the top percentile of freshman, and accepted in a prestigous black college. I was so proud of my accomplishment that the lump I had gained just a day earlier, from my mother's memory, was now small and unnoticable. I had a beautiful time unpacking with my uncles and greeting other freshman girls on my floor, but later that night all the new students had to attend a pin ceremony where your mother is supposed to attach a tiny Howard emblem on your shirt. On the university lawn was a sea of white chairs that were filled with mothers and their students, and I remember, just as if it happened seconds ago, when the President of the University stated to all the "Proud Mothers" to get up and hug there child and pin there shirt with, as he said, "their future". My chair was empty and a humble mother of a young man who became my friend that day, turned and said "Oh let me do that since your mom is busy." Busy? I thought I wish that were the case.

I wanted to die, scream, and cry; but I smiiled, and continued to act as if it were no big deal. But later the worst happened I realized that my mother was not there for anything I did, the proms, graduations, award ceremonies, cookies, or care packages, or the best thing...advice. I was always considered the 'strong' woman to my friends, and since I do freelance writing as a hobby, my stories were always considered "tear jerking" or "deep". I love that I can create, and am so warm to people, but I am not those things, I think. I think it is a habit because I want to make it to heaven without any qualms with God so I can see my mother again.

I fear that I will never be the woman I want to be because I am afraid. I always cling to men with large families or men that have a "fathering" type love, or I cry at anything. I just came out of one of the most horrid relationships I had ever experienced, because I began to find myself and no one could handle it, my ex didn't want to understand my trauma. Now, I see my path with him was a necessary tactic from God to view my authentic self. I still feel like I am standing behind the invisible bars of my crib looking out because I feel different. I am finally a professional but many times I hate having tell people my mother is decease because I have to hear the monotonous "I'm sorry to here that" phrase, and people seem to pity me when I actually tell my story. I don't feel like I am giving my young daughter all she needs because I feel like I have no one to ask for the motherly help, or even share the "When you were that age" stories with. I know you understand.

I just needed to vent, because I never found a site with women like me, Motherless and "normal" but inside you feel foriegn to the world. Thank you all for opening up, this is really the first time I have. Thank you.

Š Tamara

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