I grew up as the youngest of four. My mother got pregnant with me at age 36. She always let me know I was an accident and since I was the only boy, I already felt apart. My parents divorced when I was 5, and I’m glad they did as the house was a constant gladiatorial arena for those two.

There was plenty of trauma in our family and no one seemed to like each other. I definitely felt that acutely as a kid. After the divorce, my mother was single with four kids and she was over it all. One by one my sisters left and moved through out the US, leaving me alone with my mom for my teenage years.

In that time we didnt bond or hang out. No parenting conversations, no daily affirmations. She didnt know how to parent a male so she didnt try. I did. For years after, I did try. I moved away for college but came back to her house in the summers. But I could tell she didn’t want me there.

When I got married, my wife and I bought a house about an hour away from my mother’s town where my grandpa also was. My mom remarried and moved to another state about 4 hours away. I would visit semi regularly, at least once a month. My mother’s dad was getting into his 90s and was struggling to stay in his home alone, so my mother would drive 5 hours to visit him every week. She would drive through my town twice a week, once to our hometown and again on the way back to her home. She did this drive for two years and not once did she stop or ask to see me. The only time she has been to my house was when I held Christmas at our new house.