Well worth it!

Last week was full of fruition. Ten years of fruition as well as some insight into my childhood. Everything Pepper said to me the preceding week actually made Mothers day so emotionally gratifying. Then in my card she thanked me for always listening to her, letting her have her own opinions and really hearing her heart. She thanked me for being able to express her thoughts without criticism and always being there with love and support no matter what!

A rift between Pepper and a relative occurred; she was pretty upset as she felt discredited. I sat back in amazement watching an interaction that mirrored my childhood. I realized the importance of my blog, being able to have my voice heard without being stifled. Is sorry every really sufficient when someone has brutally wounded your soul, or discredited you? What do you think? How quickly do you let the person back in?

I’m a bit of a sucker and have always let family wreak havoc with my heart. Most times they are never aware the damage done. I have honed a pretty tough façade after living through year thirteen where I was criticized daily. Told who and what I was. I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that I attracted relationships that replicated the same behavior of judgment.

Funny how that can form you as a person. Everyone needs someone to champion them through thick and thin. Listen and believe in them as they grow and make mistakes. I wish I had made more little mistakes that were condoned and redirected. So I didn’t actuate so many big ones. Bear with me through my reflection.

One thing I know for sure I've mothered well, unfortunately I haven’t always had the financial resources. The consolation is that I know she has the skills and ability to independently follow all her aspirations.

I’m now satisfied fighting for her rights to be heard and have choice at ten , eleven and twelve was the correct route. Even as a small child she made good choices. I remember one particular incident when she was eight. There was a new girl in the school. A beautiful young thing, I insisted Pepper befriend her. She was reluctant, and held her ground. I kept insisting that it was the right thing to welcome a new student, lecturing that it was the kind thing. Pepper wouldn’t budge on the issue.

Eventually the new classmate stole Peppers large pencil collection, she'd started at only three years old. Pepper revered the many specially selected pencils. She was pretty disturbed when the young girl went into her desk and helped herself to the huge pencil case full! Later we found she’d distributed them to a few people in her neighbourhood, and then took them on a trip to another province, at least that’s what she told us. She also stole some pogs and slammers from other kids.

I talked to the teacher only to find out the child had a very troubled history. I decided to address the parent instead. After several unsuccessful tries all week, I knocked on the door of the little girl’s basement suite. She let me in; there on the couch was an inattentive mother, ten in the morning drinking vodka with some burly scruffy boyfriend seemingly unfamilar to the child. The suite was sparse, with only a very tiny television and large bottle of opened vodka on the coffee table. In that moment my daughter learned a life lesson, no words could ever express. The trauma of losing her pencil collection seemed pale in comparison. My demeanor changed in an instant. However, I did try to plead my case, the daughter lied and the mother daughter confrontation led nowhere. I had fully investigated and knew she had them.

I spotted one of her classmate’s slammers on the counter, spoke to the girl lovingly. Bartering for the slammer, realizing this young girl had nothing. In exchange for the boys coveted slammer I promised her some really cool pogs and a different slammer. I explained how devastated he was to loose his special birthday gift that the family had no money to replace. I suggested that instead of telling stories that got her in trouble she should start writing some of her stories out on paper. I was sincere, she really did have talent. I tenderly explained how she could be anything she wanted and encouraged her to take a better path. I have no idea what happened to that poor neglected child. We left quietly, Pepper never made mention of her pencils again.

Days later we saw the little girl standing alone at a bus stop. Keep in mind she was eight. I asked Pepper if she thought we should pick her up, fully intending to offer her a ride anyway. Pepper agreed it would be a good idea. I drove the girl to the destined mall then waited for her mother to collect her. Pepper learned a lot by that whole incident, but so did I.

My daughter had incredible intuition from a young age, I learned to trust her choices every step of the way. It was a stumbling block for me as I was trying to incorporate my childhood teachings to a wise soul who could easily detect right from wrong, and knew how to move away from bad energy.

So at ten when she was physically (with menses) and mentally mature, I could trust she needed her own voice. Thankfully I heeded that, fought hard to have her voice heard, and it was. She had difficulty embracing her new step family. In retrospect I think she may have sheltered me from some of the actual occurrences that led to her insightful decisions.

As a parent you always doubt whether you are taking the correct path with your child. Without giving details I feel confident after last week’s fruition; I made cognitive smart choices for Pepper’s well being by putting her in three bouts of counseling, allowing her feelings, and opinions. I can without reservation say she was always in the best care with me. Had I not stood my ground with authorities, supporting her voice I shutter to think had I not fought so hard, she may have executed a wanton path full of personal destruction! This post is fraught with gratitude for a fight hard won!