Thank you mama for being trash.

You know, I don’t have the best relationship with my mother these days. I’m sure that’s not surprising to anyone who’s read more than 1 entry in my blog. But an anonymous comment made in another entry got me thinking…

Let me start by saying thank you anonymous. You made me realize something, I probably wouldn’t have seen had you not mentioned the fact that I come from trash, and also invite it.

I do come from trash; actually, the bottom of the barrel. And there’s no secret about it. My family has never been more than white-trash with nothing material to show for our existence. But Dubai has made us something better. We’re now white trash with gold, diamonds, cars, and lots of other pretty things we didn’t have back home. But it’s true, no matter how you dress it; it’ll always be what it is.

Up until tonight, I blamed my mother for it. I thought she was the reason I’m so fucked in the head. Surely, the fact that as a child I went hungry for days watching her pissed drunk in the kitchen with rowdy partiers is why I suffer the way I do. Surely, she could have done something to change that before I became the complete fuck up I am today, right? I believed if she did something different my life would have ended up better, somehow.

And I have held this against her for as far back as I can remember. She’s apologized many times for the way life was when I was young; and I never really forgave her.

But it hit me today… And it hit me really hard… I shouldn’t be blaming my mom for any of this. I should be thanking her.

You see, if I hadn’t come from such a shit-poor family, I wouldn’t know how to differentiate what’s good on the inside, from what looks good on the outside. I’d judge people based on where they came from; as if it were somehow their fault they were born. I’d probably care more about what people thought of me, than I did what I thought of myself. Had I lived a life of security, I’d probably not be half as strong as I am today. Had my mama not shown me what it was like to feel really alone, I probably wouldn’t value the people in my life the way I do. If I hadn’t been through the absurd things I have, I bet, I’d fid it pretty damn hard to understand or sympathize with anyone else who’s been there.

So thank you mama, for raising me in a dirt-poor, alcoholic, trashy environment; cause if you didn’t I’d probably be judging people on where they were from, what they thought, how they looked or dressed, and I’d probably either be forced to keep my thoughts to myself (torturing me eternally) or hide behind a name-less veil when I did speak them, out of fear that they might think any less of me than I could handle.

Thank you mama, for making me real, for making me choose to live my life the way I want to and not the way the rest of the world thinks I should. Thank you mama, for securing my right to have an opinion and raising me to be strong enough to share it without fearing that someone else may have one that differs. And thank you mama for showing me that it’s alright to fuck things up, so long as you realize it and accept your mistake. Thank you mama, for apologizing and showing me it’s never too late and never a mistake to admit it when you’re wrong.

Thank you mama, for being trash. I love you, and I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner.