My religion tells me to honor my mother and father. It is in the ten commandments, one of the oldest laws ever written. But even though I am commanded by my God to do this, I cannot. I really can’t. My parents don’t honor themselves and they don’t honor me. Their lives are marred with violence, addiction, and betrayal. To honor them is to dishonor myself and I am not willing to do that anymore.
I struggle with the idea that a commandment tells me to obey my parents but no such law tells them to care for their children, the innocent, the helpless. They are left on their own. But children best obey. It never made sense to me. But I suppose laws are written by the powerful, who want to protect their own interests. Parents who are violent, who name call, who blame, who steal, have enough power over their children without a hand from God.
People want to judge me because I have had to cut my parents out of my life, but I did it to honor myself. At some point, my life became my decision, and I had to choose what was best for me. My parents didn’t make that decision very much. Growing up, there wasn’t always food in the kitchen. There wasn’t always a working telephone. We didn’t always have running water. But we always had cable. My parents lied about me to borrow money from friends and relatives. My parents lied to me when they wanted my birthday money, or my babysitting money or if they just pawned my bike.
There are so many of us who know what it is like to have parents who just are not interested in being parents. We know what it is like to have drugs and alcohol tear our families apart and have nothing left but ourselves. If we can keep that together. I’ve struggled. We’ve all struggled. Taking my parents out of my life helped me to get better, to become stable and strong. I know a lot of people won’t understand that. But God understands. Of course He does.