My biological mother.
I have 2 memories of her, of course, both when I was a little girl.
I’ve watched and actually studied Iyanla Vanzant for a couple months now and my feeling of needing to be in her prescene grows stronger every single time. Not only does she allow you to confront your feelings, she also digs deeper, exposing traumas & experiences that you may not have been acknowledging—
The memory of my mother, that I am about to share, makes so many newfound and old aspects about myself make sense. Deep down, I long for a sincere conversation with my biological mother. I want her to hear my pain, I want to be mad as hell at her without feeling sorry for her...just for once, I want her to acknowledge the trauma and turmoil she caused in all eight (or more) of our lives. As long as this “thing” goes unacknowledged, she won’t get the help and healing she needs and neither will we.
————
I had to be about 4 or 5 years old. It had to be Christmas or my birthday or some special occasion because I remember unwrapping a few gifts. I was standing in the middle of the floor, a small apartment or single room. My biological mother, on the other side of the room. I unwrapped my gift..’Barbie’ Walkie Talkies. I was excited, I still feel that excitement today. I couldn’t get the packing open, they were secured in that thick plastic material that I wished they wouldn’t use anymore because it’s a struggle getting anything out of them. She saw me, so she came over with a knife to get it open for me. As I stand in front of her, she’s fighting with the plastic with the knife until she finally gets through. Indoing so, the grip of the plastic on the knife caused my mother to hit me with the knife. She panicked, I cried. The knife didn’t stab me but it did leave a small bruise, which sits on my 28 year old forehead. She embraced me, held me while I cried—in the mist of calming me down, she called me her beautiful ‘Barbie.’
This is the only memory I have of my biological mother, the one who carried me, in her womb for 9 months—the only memory I have of her embracing me.
Many people who know me, know that I have ‘Barbie’ tattooed on my left shoulder. Many people believe it’s because I’m what Nicki Minaj calls her fans, Barbs. Nice guess, but that’s not it. It’s a way for me to hold onto her embrace, even though she let go of mine.
My Barbie tattoo symbolizes this memory, memory 01 out of 02 memories.
I have 2 memories of her, of course, both when I was a little girl.
I’ve watched and actually studied Iyanla Vanzant for a couple months now and my feeling of needing to be in her prescene grows stronger every single time. Not only does she allow you to confront your feelings, she also digs deeper, exposing traumas & experiences that you may not have been acknowledging—
The memory of my mother, that I am about to share, makes so many newfound and old aspects about myself make sense. Deep down, I long for a sincere conversation with my biological mother. I want her to hear my pain, I want to be mad as hell at her without feeling sorry for her...just for once, I want her to acknowledge the trauma and turmoil she caused in all eight (or more) of our lives. As long as this “thing” goes unacknowledged, she won’t get the help and healing she needs and neither will we.
————
I had to be about 4 or 5 years old. It had to be Christmas or my birthday or some special occasion because I remember unwrapping a few gifts. I was standing in the middle of the floor, a small apartment or single room. My biological mother, on the other side of the room. I unwrapped my gift..’Barbie’ Walkie Talkies. I was excited, I still feel that excitement today. I couldn’t get the packing open, they were secured in that thick plastic material that I wished they wouldn’t use anymore because it’s a struggle getting anything out of them. She saw me, so she came over with a knife to get it open for me. As I stand in front of her, she’s fighting with the plastic with the knife until she finally gets through. Indoing so, the grip of the plastic on the knife caused my mother to hit me with the knife. She panicked, I cried. The knife didn’t stab me but it did leave a small bruise, which sits on my 28 year old forehead. She embraced me, held me while I cried—in the mist of calming me down, she called me her beautiful ‘Barbie.’
This is the only memory I have of my biological mother, the one who carried me, in her womb for 9 months—the only memory I have of her embracing me.
Many people who know me, know that I have ‘Barbie’ tattooed on my left shoulder. Many people believe it’s because I’m what Nicki Minaj calls her fans, Barbs. Nice guess, but that’s not it. It’s a way for me to hold onto her embrace, even though she let go of mine.
My Barbie tattoo symbolizes this memory, memory 01 out of 02 memories.
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