BONDED BY BLOOD
It amazes me how attached we are to those close to us, whether bonded by blood or not. "Bonded by blood". I say this to myself and I realize that it comes with so much baggage, so much weight, it seems to constitute so many things. What does it even mean, exactly? We don't see families walking around malls with floating ropes made of red plasma tying them together. Nor do we easily notice among groups of people which ones are related and which aren't. So again the question arises, what does the three word phrase mean? In my family, I was always different. I was never the 'black sheep' if that's what it sounds like, just different. I had some characteristics that assured my membership in my family was legit like I was always known to be the 'carbon copy' of my mother since I looked so much like her. But setting that aside and looking at it from my perspective, I always saw myself as set apart from the rest. I was the nerd of the bunch, unpopular and never the first to be chosen as Class Muse. I couldn't play any sports, had really thick glasses and had the confidence level about the size of an ant. My siblings all seemed to be the opposite of what I was, inheriting all my mother's dominant traits. I never thought of myself as unlucky though, my being different wasn't necessarily a bad thing. I had my good points too. There was one particular trait of mine that really made me stand out. It was my unconditional attachment to others. I just always care, and at times I would care too much. I put others before myself which probably came about due to my lack of self-confidence. I was dependent on others and this made them dependent on me. I was always there for everyone, the one you can run to and count on to stick by you and give you whatever it is that you need. This characteristic of mine was most reflected on my family. My mother wasn't the ideal motherly figure and even if I was the third of four children, I was responsible for everyone else. Responsibilities were put on my shoulders while the rest of my siblings would do what they wanted. "Andyan naman si Kim, she'll take care of it." was what they would always say and they were right, I was there, and I did take care of it. A couple of years ago, my mother went through an emotional breakdown which caused her to attempt to take her life several times. The last time she went at this, she ran to me, her trusty daughter to take care of her, and like always, I did. I lay with her on the bed while the pills were taking effect, listened to her apologize so many times. I rode in the ambulance and spoke to the doctors while they were trying to find a way to get the drugs out of her system. I slept in the one chair they had in her room in the ICU and put water on her lips when she was thirsty. I looked upon my mother who needed me and set aside the pain that I felt because of what she had done. I would run out of the room and cry to my friend when I couldn't take it anymore but never to my mother. She never knew nor does she know how much damage that last gulp of wine she drank to swallow those pills did to me. Until today I continue to be there for my mother. It is much harder now since I still can't seem to let go of the expectations I have of what she should be like. I try so hard to understand her pain, her situation and her needs instead of mine. A part of me knew that this wasn't how it was supposed to be, that it was supposed to be the other way around, yet I conditioned myself to understand that my situation was different. That this time, I was supposed to take care of my mother. That after she had me in her womb for nine months and carried me as a baby, it was time I paid my dues. Bonded by blood. This explains what the phrase means to me. I am a mere child of my mother, a body formed from her blood which will forever flow through my veins. Her blood is mine, her pain is my pain, her joy is my joy. My happiness is not based on hers but is linked to it. She is the judge of my character and I will forever live in her shadow because no matter what I do, no matter where I go or who I am, she is my mother. Her blood runs not between us but within us and that would keep us bonded forever.
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AuthorLyka Ugarte: 1st Runner-Up Mutya ng Pilipinas 1983, "The Most Beautiful Girl in the Phil" 1983. Represented the Phil. in "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World" in Honolulu, Hawaii in 1984. An Actress, A Model, A Mother, A Friend, A Survivor! ArchivesCategories
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