My mother and father divorced when I was very young. My father had custody and he remarried a woman who was physically and emotionally abusive to me. My mother was in and out of the picture; some years I would see her for the summer and every other weekend, and as I got older that became less and less frequent.

I was desperate to escape the hell I lived in, but no matter how many people told my mom she should take my dad to court, she wouldn’t do it. Both of my parents were addicts, but I was always happier and felt more loved at my mom’s. So even though I knew about her addiction from a very young age, it didn’t matter to me because she was perfectly functional and made me feel loved. But she would never keep me.

Finally, she let me try living with her when I was in seventh grade. It lasted for about three months. We had one fight, as teenage daughters and mothers are likely to have, and she sent me back to my dad’s. Our communication after that was sporadic; it finally became complete estrangement when I was 18. She went to prison for awhile for drug possession and then cleaned up her life. For a brief period of time, we reconnected when she moved into my dad’s house (he had separated from my stepmother) while I was there during the summer taking time off from graduate school.

I was desperate for a relationship with my mother. I wanted a real mom. But she again left me. Whatever my dad’s failings, though, he was the parent who had stuck around, at least some, so when he was hurt alongside me when she left, I quit all contact with her. We didn’t speak at all - not even intermittently - for over 5 years.

When I was nearing 30, I got an email from her. A family member, an epileptic like me, had died having a seizure. My mother was hysterical and wanted to reconnect with me. I wrote her back and said to calm down, I was alive, I was fine, and sure, she could give me a call, whatever. I figured we’d talk once and then disconnect again, so I figured if it made her feel better to know I was alive, so be it.

However, for the first time in my life, she apologized without following the apology with a “but.” But I was an addict, but your dad and stepmom were mean to me, but, but, but...this time, she just apologized. That was all I really needed. I forgave her. We live at opposite ends of the country, but we talk a couple of times a month and generally see each other once or twice a year. I’m glad we reconnected and I do love her.