Your mother is the person who raises you from birth and protects you, nurtures you, loves you unlike any other, and is your shoulder to lean on. My mother was everything but. From a young age I remember her chasing me down our hallway with a wooden spatula trying to hit me for whatever triggered her temper at that moment. I cried because I had no friends and was lonely, but in her eyes it was due to me being arrogant which I didn’t know I was. Getting my period at 9 years old and having no clue what was going on and instead of keeping my secret, announcing it to a group of strangers that I had never met and being congratulated moments after cleaning the blood off of my hands. At 17, when I found out I was pregnant and told my parents, she was so furious that she threw her trash can on the floor and started throwing her dishes like frisbees. Being 15 and suicidal only to be told that I needed to get over my depression and that one day it would grow wings and fly away, like a bird. Being told that my miscarriage was a blessing because she hated the father of my child and that I had no reason to be upset because it was for the best. At 25, being disowned for not allowing someone to have the book thrown at them and allowing them to rot in jail for 20 years. Watching her yell at my elderly father for things he could not control. My mother was not the mother that I could cry to about boys because I was afraid of her. She was not the mother I went to for protection because it was at a cost and I would never hear the end of my stupidity and how she was my savior. Anytime I cried to her over the things she did to hurt me, I was a liar and she was a phenomenal mother who didn't need anyone to tell her that. She has no idea why I look for love in everything, everyone, and everywhere I go since I deeply lacked it in my youth. I’ve grown to watch families and envy the relationships my peers have with their moms and wishing I had the same undying love they do. Having two mothers you would think I would have gotten the love I needed for my pain, but alas I was unworthy for either one. To those of you who have a mother who you can lean on, cherish them. Love them and remind them of why you are thankful to have them in your life because not everyone has a mother on their side.

Being adopted means having a biological and adopted father, and it shows you what a father truly is. A father is not the man who creates you, for anyone can have sex and concieve a child. Anyone can choose to call themselves father and after 18 years of never being in your life ask you to look at them as such. No, my father was the man who tried to teach me to ride a bike although he failed. The man who carried me in from our backyard when a nail went through my foot and although he had no idea what to do, still made sure I was okay. The man who was at every award ceremony I had with flowers to congratulate me and tell me how proud he was of me. The man who loved me despite being a jock as a teen and now had a goth, feminist daughter who wanted to lift weights and drive sports cars instead of paint her nails and become a cheerleader. A father is your rock and the person who supports and believes in you. My father may have dementia and some days not know who I am, but I will always know who he is and what he means to me.