As long as I have been writing this column, I have written about something I am thankful for around Thanksgiving. This year, I am thankful for my mother. Not that I am not thankful for her every day of my life, but lately I have realized our relationship has gotten better as I have grown older.
As a young child, my mother and I butted heads on a daily basis. I was Daddy’s little girl and more than once, I used that against her.
When I was 15, Mom asked me about divorcing my father. I happened to be mad at Dad at the time and told Mom the best thing she could do was leave him. I regret that statement to this day.
Although her life and the life of my family got better when they separated, it took a toll on me I still deal with to this day.
I remember moving in with my father after the divorce and the hate that swelled inside me towards my mom. I became a rebellious teen with no respect for anyone.
I was hurt and even though I knew Mom was just doing what she deemed best, it didn’t help matters.
I remember one specific time the anger towards my mother resulted in a fist-fight. I don’t know who threw the first blow, but I remember Dad pulling her off of me and how horrible I felt about actually provoking my mother to the point of violence.
After a semester at Milligan, I moved back in with my mom and things began to look up. We started communicating more than we had in the past. I started understanding her reasoning and things about her I had overlooked. She started talking to me like I was a person instead of her child. She started listening to me and I started opening my ears, too.
Now our relationship isn’t excellent, but I tell her more than I ever have. I confide in her. I want her to know about my life. She made me realize family is really the only thing we can count on for support in life. And although no one is perfect, family will let you fall but quickly helps you back up.
I am not and never have been a good child. I don’t even know how mother made it through 25 years of me.
She put up with my past drug abuse, my hatred for everything, my night-owl lifestyle, my disregard for authority and still thinks I am the smartest person she knows.
Mom always taught me to be independent and self-sufficient. It is only lately that I have realized she has a fear of dying and leaving her children behind not knowing how to care for themselves or have a happy life.
Mom has raised three children with minimal help. I am the oldest and the one everyone says is the demon seed.
Mom has a great degree from ETSU and a great job. She held a 4.0 forever. I don’t remember a time my mother wasn’t enrolled in some kind of class furthering her education. She loves college. She graduated when she was 33 while raising a family and working a job. She says college is where her type of people are.
Religion is very important to her and the issue we disagree on the most. She wants me to go to church and live according to God’s will. I wake up all the time to see books about Jesus and contemporary Christianity lying on my bedside table.
Although she knows I have contempt for organized religion stemming from episodes in the past, she is relentless. That, to me, shows she is a true believer and has good reasons for it. It makes me respect her even more. When I come home from philosophy classes with ideas I think she needs to know about her religion, she always has an answer that is irrefutable.
I tell her what the facts are and she tells me what her heart says reminding me that sometimes facts only tell one side and everything isn’t black and white.
Mom has always told me I could do anything. She constantly says things like “When you write your first Harry Potter novel, you can buy me that house on the hill I want” or “When Fox News calls you, we can all spend Thanksgiving in New York at your penthouse.”
She has given me more than I could ask from a mother. I have given her nothing in return except for many instances of heartache and disappointment.
It is often said that as we grow older, we appreciate our parents more. Well, I am now a believer.
I don’t know how I would have made it through life without her. Even when I hated her, she was there. When I failed, she was there. When I succeeded, she was there.
They say you grow up to be just like your mother. Everyone has those times when they say something or do something and then they turn around and realize they just acted like their mom.
To most, this isn’t a good sign because we can see the failures of others easier than we can see the prosperity. Plus, we all have vowed not to turn out like our parents. But, I say if I turn out to be like my mom, then so be it.
I would be damned lucky to turn out to be such a beautiful, successful, educated and loving woman. I am more thankful for my mother than anyone else in my life. Without her, I don’t know what I’d do.

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