There’s a lot of people in the world who grow up without one of their parents being present; some people even grow up without two. It’s not right, every child should have both parents, but its life. We all choose this life with one energy and one consciousness, but have different labyrinths in this life cycle to help us evolve into our greatest self. I’m deeply sorry to anyone who has lost their parent(s) to an unfortunate situation like the ending of their human experience; I’m deeply sorry for your loss and I send positive vibrations your way to continue healing. For anyone who may have lost their parent(s) to incarceration, I’m really sorry and I hope that relationship can still be built while they’re away. I pray for a miracle and they’re granted early release. For those who have parent(s) that abandoned them, it’s okay. Don’t internalize their absence, lack of effort, and their behavior as your own fault. Don’t feel like a burden, don’t feel like you’re too much, because you’re not. You’re a gift.
For those who may not know, I grew up without my mom present in my life. Think about your mom, your relationship with her, how you feel about Mother’s Day, how you feel when you’re sad and she holds you down, how you feel when you’re sick and she kisses your forehead while holding you, walking in the house and her being there to hug you. Think about that and think about the feeling you get while visualizing it. Think about how it feels having her in your life. Think about how much she’s done for you. It’s a beautiful feeling right? Now imagine if you never experienced that. Imagine if you were teased a few times with that feeling but it never stayed and it was never full; just a tease. That’s how I felt, that’s how I feel, and I don’t know if that feeling will ever go away. I don’t know what it feels like to be excited for Mother’s Day, go shopping to get your mom a nice gift and that shit hurts, always has. Everyday of my life I’ve tried to make sense of things and it hurts even more when I try. I don’t know why, I don’t know if I should go to therapy, I don’t know if I should just say, “Fuck it,” I just don’t know. But every time it comes to me, the thoughts and the feelings, its the same sharp pain in my chest I had when I was in kindergarten and my teacher said, “Take this home for your mother to sign this,” but I didn’t have a mom at home to sign it.
I’m not here to bash my mom by any means, I’m just here to express myself. I don’t think she’s a bad woman at all, I don’t think she’s a bad mom. She has six other kids, I’m literally the middle child; two girls and one boy older than I, and two boys and one girl younger than I. I’m directly in the middle. They live in Florida, my birthplace. From their perspective and hers, she’s done an amazing job as a mother. As well as works her ass off to provide, loves hard, cares for everybody, nurtures them, all of that. But like I said, it’s from their perspective and experience with her. My experience and perspective is different. I’m not saying she’s a bad person but she was never any of that for me. There could be a reason for it that I’m ignorant to, but I just never had the same experience. In 20 years of my life, I’ve never really felt like I was loved. I never truly felt cared for. I felt I was more of a mistake, a burden, and forgotten than anything. Anybody can rebuttal, anybody can give stories as to why things were how they were, you can make up anything in the world. That’s cool. Taking care of six kids has to be hard and draining, I get it; but I’m one of the kids too, there’s seven of us. I make seven. I didn’t ask to be born. Even if there was a secret conversation with my dad or whoever else telling her, “Don’t worry. I got him. I’ll take good care of him.” I still needed my mother. I didn’t say that I approve of that decision if it happened, somebody else may have, but not me. They can’t speak on my behalf because they don’t know how I feel. I’m not even talking about money. I never received child support or installments, but that’s neither here or there. I don’t care about that. I was just never invested into emotionally, mentally, or spiritually and it fucking hurts. These days I spend my time trying to face myself, my scars, and trying to heal. It hurts more now than ever because I have more time to think, I have more time to feel, and it all comes in a rush sometimes.
Credit to my dad, he’s always spoken highly of her. Never any ill comments. As a kid I always had ideologies of who my mom was and what she may have been like in head. I had old pictures and she visited once when I was in head start, or pre-k. They were there visiting us for a while, her and my siblings. Best time ever. I look just like her, literally a spitting image. I could see me in her. I was a momma’s boy at heart and here she was, I was with my mom. After they left, I’d sit in front of the door sometimes thinking she may come back to share those times again. She may pop up by surprise to be here for good. I used to do that all of the time until I was about 13 or 14 when I finally gave up hope. I’ll just sit in the living room, imagining my mother was coming through the door in at any moment to surprise me. When I was six and first started playing contact football, my dad told me to picture the end zone being Florida and my mom standing there. Try to get to her every time. Go back and look at my highlights, even when I was younger. I wasn’t running touchdowns to put points on the board, I visualized that shit so vividly that I fooled myself to thinking she was really there and I wanted to be there with her. But I was wrong, she didn’t come back and I didn’t get to see her for so many years after.
I’ve been down to Florida to visit her a few times, a handful of times. I literally have a handful of experiences with my mom; her coming up to see me and me going down to Florida. The crazy part is, they were all more than great and in my heart I knew that was my mom. It’s like even if I’ve never met my mom or seen a picture of her, when I first seen her and hugged her, I could feel that I came from her. I can look at her, look in her eyes and actually see I came from her. But it sucks because it was just a tease. None of them were consistent experiences and they all happened at sporadic times throughout my life; so sporadic, I can’t even really give you a vivid and accurate timeline. When I was with her she was great, amazing, and I seen the mom that the other six kids rave about. I’ve never had a bad time being around my mom in those moments we were able to share. But all of those experiences combined don’t come close to my 20 year timeline of life and definitely not enough time to build a relationship and connection. The reason I gave up hope around the age 13, is because of one Mother’s Day. There was a war of words, and it ended with (From my personal memory, that’s vivid, and anybody can share what they think but like I said– can’t tell me I’m wrong) and I quote, “I should’ve just gotten an abortion than to let someone else raise my child.” So since somebody else did in fact raise me, then what does that leave you with? Should’ve gotten an abortion. It’s easy to say, “You shouldn’t have taken it that way” but I was 13 and then that followed with me and the siblings getting into it. Shit was fucked up for a few years, me and my brother actually made up and we’re really close now. We’ve never lived together, was never raised under the same roof, or even shared many experiences, but we’re way too much alike and it’s crazy. It’s really, really crazy how much alike we are but he’s the only sibling out of all six I have a real relationship with. No shade or diss to the other five, especially the younger ones, because they don’t really know too much. But my brother, the older one, is the one I have a relationship with.
As petty as it sounds, one of the hardest things to deal with was school and youth sports. You’ll see the moms at the school, kids always with their mom, so many mother’s engaging with their children, at games, being the team mom, at AAU tournaments, at every game, and it was just like — where is my mom. There could 100% be something I was never told, things that have been hidden from me, decisions made I don’t know about, exchange of words I was never told. I don’t doubt that from being a possibility, but it doesn’t negate how I feel about things and my perspective towards things. Growing up, my dad was my coach and trainer. He gave me a lot of tough love and I appreciate it, because I became arguably the best cornerback and punt returner in the entire nation. But at the same time, I didn’t have that balance and it fucked with me. I was never ever proud of myself and looking back at things, I have accomplished a lot. I’ve accomplished a hell of a lot. But never embraced it or enjoyed it because I never had the balance to even realize what I was doing in the present moment. I didn’t feel empowered by my accomplishments after a while, they just became more targets to hit. There was no feeling of joy or happiness there anymore like it should’ve been for me. I would get lectures from my dad and critiqued, the tough love, but never had the mom to walk in the house to and hug me and tell me I’m going good. I’ve always had confidence because I don’t think there was another player that could fuck with me, but how much would you actually be happy and proud of your work if you were always told you didn’t do enough and you should’ve, could’ve, etc? I never had the mom to look at my dad and say, “Robbie leave that boy alone, that’s enough. You’re doing good son.” I know there’s always room for improvement but also too much of anything and a lack of balance is bad. My grandmother was always proud of me and showed me the love I didn’t have from my mother. My grandma tried her absolute best and still does. To be honest, she’s a way better grandma to me than I am a grandson, and I often beat myself up about it. I try to be a great grandson, but you know you hit that age where personal shit and life consumes you, and you look up and its like — “Fuck, I haven’t even talked to my grandma.” That’s how it is and this year I’m trying to be more conscious of that.
Growing up in the inner city, black community, there’s of course more mother’s than father’s taking care of the kids. I appreciate my dad but as a kid, you see more mother’s present and you feel like you’re missing out. Like I said before, I’ll just sit at the door and hope my mom came to surprise me. PTA meetings, parent-teacher conferences, school events, lunch, graduation, I just wish I had a mom to share it with. If my dad was mad at me, I didn’t have a mom to go to and hide under. I just called my grandma. It’s different though, its like even though my grandma has always been there and done more than enough, I just had an emptiness inside of me without my mother being there. Teachers always saying shit like, “Tell your mom to –” like ma’am, I don’t have a mother at home. I’ve always been smart in school and made good grades, I didn’t have a mom to run home and show my report card to. I didn’t have a mom to vent to when I was dealing with an annoying ass teacher. I’ve been club leaders, club presidents, class presidents and more, I’ve done endless speeches at school, and my mom was never there to share it with me. I used to find an empty seat in the audience sometimes and just think maybe that’s the seat she’d sit in if she was just to walk in. But she never walked in and every seat that was empty, stayed empty. I actually did the same thing in sports. I’d always find empty spots in the crowd and wonder if that’s where my mom would’ve chosen to sit if she was there.
Sports were my entirety for a long time; from about the age of 5 until age 19, when I recently chose to part ways from football. My mom has missed all of it. Anybody can rebuttal, anybody can disagree, but I feel like my mom didn’t start to care to at least reach out some until my name started buzzing online and my recruitment jumped off. I started hearing a little more from her when “Robbie Robinson” became a damn near household name. Like I said, anybody can say that’s not the case and it might not be, but that’s how I feel by the timing of some things and I’m not wrong for feeling that way. Her and some of my siblings attended one game, my senior year in high school against American Heritage Plantation in Florida. She was there with a jersey dress, customized in DeMatha colors with my last name and number on the back. Shit was dope as fuck and its like, I wish I had that same energy and support all my life. My dad is a sports mastermind but everybody ain’t built to be his son. Shit looks cool from the outside when you see the rewards from my work, but if a lot y’all were in my shoes y’all would’ve been folded. My dad supported me and was at every game, camp, college visit and more. Never missed anything. My grandma is supportive, but she hates seeing any of her grandkids get hit, so she came to like one or two games a year. I could make a tackle or be running the ball and my grandma will close her eyes. My dad and little sister Kennedy have always been my support system. My aunt and uncle, the Darden’s, they were supportive as hell for Brian but I didn’t get the same energy at all. I’m not their child so I don’t sweat it but that’s just to clear the air because some people always thought they were like, super supportive; yeah to Brian, not me. My aunt always cared though, her husband, he didn’t start (fake) caring until I started getting offers and scholarships. Shit was weak as hell if you ask me. But I’m not their child, so whatever. But I didn’t have my mom there and I wanted my mom there; especially with the energy she brought to the game she made it to, I wish I had that all my life.
At a young age, my dad used to tell me to picture the end zone was Florida and your mom was there. I ran with that image from six year’s old until about 14 when I stopped giving a fuck and knew my mom wasn’t coming to be a mom to me. You see so many mom’s cheering their kids on in the rec league and AAU basketball circuit, every game and tournament; never missing a single trip. I didn’t have that. I wish I did but I didn’t. I wish my mom was the team mom, always did. It’s just something special about having your mom to support you and lean on. Instead, I just always got cursed out and lectured for four hours after practices and games from my dad. Not many people know but I’ve played LaCrosse before. My first year of ever playing LaCrosse, I sucked. I got better as that season went on, my athleticism and aggressiveness got me over, but I didn’t have much of a skill set or pedigree. My ass was trying though. We had a nationals tournament in Myrtle Beach and it was a big game, I made a lucky ass goal to win that shit. My dad was hype as hell. I played on an all white team, everybody on the team lived in a nice neighborhood in the Grafton/Yorktown area, and pretty sure everybody had both parents. So like, my dad was hype and it was cool, but I wish I could’ve shared it with my mom too. I don’t even know if she knows I ever played LaCrosse to be quite honest. Senior year of high school, I had a great game senior night; won the game MVP and scholar-athlete award, but couldn’t share it with my mom. I actually cried that night cause I thought that would be the one day my dad didn’t have shit to say except, “I’m proud of you,” but I was wrong. I got to college, went through all I went through, and never heard from my mom. Didn’t hear from anybody at all to be honest, except my dad and my grandma. I needed my mom or at least a softer side to understand what I was going through. My dad’s passion for football and wanting me to go to the league or whatever clouded his judgment a lot of times, and I don’t blame him. He didn’t have his dad, so he just tried to be what he wish he had, and he wasn’t wrong for any of it. I just didn’t have the balance to keep me sane mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It wasn’t until shit absolutely hit the fan when I finally talked to my mom for the first time about things and at that point, shit was all over the place with my life and my mind.
With women and dating, I never had my mom to consult with. I always wished I did but I learned everything from experience. My dad isn’t a relationship advocate, so I damn sure was never open about things with him, he knows about one girl I’ve dated for sure and that’s probably it. My dad is 100% the last person I’ll introduce a girl to anyway, that man is crazy and he has no filter; if you don’t have tough skin, he joking you out the room and I don’t have time for that shit. My grandma is dope is fuck, way too dope. I don’t let her meet anybody because she has too much sauce, my grandma too dope for any and everybody to meet her, so only my ex has met her. My aunt, she’s cool. I love her. She had a great relationship with my ex and she’s really wise, but she’s not my mom. Its weird but it’s just something that keeps me from opening up all the way because its like, she’s not my mom. I can’t control it and its not intentional, but its just an uncomfortable feeling I get. As I got older, my stepmom became the go-to person at times. She’s really, really cool and she’s really hip. So I’ve discussed more things with her than anybody else. With my two cousins, I never said much or opened up about much, I’m not the type to force shit if it’s not natural. Especially the male cousin, he was scumbag in relationships, and common sense always told me never ask him for advice even if he was the last person on earth. In conclusion, out of everybody, nobody knows a damn thing about 99% of my relations. I’ve learned everything from experience, trial and error, and observation. You know how when women don’t get the love they need from their father, they look for it in other men in desperation? That’s how I was early on until I suffered a few heartbreaks then I switched my entire shit up. I lost trust in women, didn’t allow myself to open up much, emotionally unavailable, no idea how to be a boyfriend, didn’t know how to overcome relationship obstacles, didn’t know what to prepare myself for, how to go on dates, what goes on during a date, a bunch of shit I didn’t know and I learned from trial and error. I actually learned what cheating does to women emotionally from my cousin, the male, I learned more of what not to do than what to follow and apply. I seen how my cousin, the girl, relationships turned out and what she endured, so I learned from those too and applied it. I never was open about anything, just always analyzing and observant.
My dad isn’t married, tried once actually and it didn’t work. During that time, I wasn’t getting the love and attention from him like I needed because he was trying to share the love to the other children, my step-siblings. That shit was a fucking mess. But after they separated and as we got older, I considered them to be my real siblings. But I’ve always been smart and observant and seen how things affected people and I learned what not to do from that. My aunt, my dad’s sister is married, but that marriage from my perspective is boring as hell and not the marriage I want to model if I was to ever pull the trigger. So from what I seen growing up, marriage was a turnoff 100%. Maybe as I get older my thoughts on marriage will change, but I honestly just see it as a contractual obligation; more so a corporate thing than anything. My only dilemma is I don’t want any of my children to be missing out from either parent, so married or not, I want to have the relationship to civilly co-exist and co-parent for the best of the kids; go on family vacations, sporting events, PTA meetings, any and everything together with the kids even if there is me and their mother is not married. Maybe if my parents were married, maybe if they co-parented more intensely, maybe if I’ve seen a dope ass marriage then it would excite me but until then I’m quite unimpressed with marriage. Credit to DeMatha football head coach, Elijah Brooks and his wife Tierra Brooks, as well as the parents of University of Maryland’s running back Lorenzo Harrison for those two marriages gave me some excitement and interest in the thought of marriage. The whole parents not married thing varies person by person I’m sure, but I turned out to not value it nor am I looking forward to it.
- There’s a letter to my mom written below. Be careful, because not all minds are truly ready to grasp this vulnerability and open truth in this. It’s raw in emotion, raw in pain, pure, unreviewed, unedited, uncorrected. It for sure has incorrect sentence structure, grammar, and maybe even spelling within some sentences. It’s pure pain, expression, and a stage of healing. For you to really get it, you just have to close your eyes, think about the pain you’ve been hiding from, and be aligned with that feeling while connecting to my words of expression instead of just reading it as a piece of literature you have a disconnection to. Before reading, prepare yourself to connect to me through the emotions of hurt and pain. Let it soak you in as you read to not only understand, but truly feel.
To my mom if you ever stumble upon this:
And these days, I just need you more than ever. Everything I missed. The hugs, the kisses, you cursing me out, cursing my dad out for being too hard on me, being able to show you my sensitive side, being able to be expressive with emotion. I missed it all. I never knew I would need it, I thought everything would be fine and I would never be affected, but I think its life. I think life forces you in situations where you become forced to face yourself and face what’s in your core. I think no matter how much you try to mask the pain or replace it with other things, I think life will eventually lead you to a place in life where you’re forced to heal from the wound or go crazy trying to hide it. I’m not saying I’m healed but this is the start to it; me writing and expressing my pain openly is the start to my healing. Not to show it off to the world to shame anybody, but more so to finally let the hurt out, and to allow my heart to comfort someone else in knowing the fact they aren’t hurting alone. Everybody changed up momma, I don’t know what love is anymore. And that shit only hurt cause I never thought life would get this way momma. I thought they loved me enough to be behind me with whatever. I thought they loved me enough to be open enough to listen and understand. I thought they loved me enough to care about me being happy rather than trying to please them and make them happy. Only thing that keeps me sedated is facing blunts and going to Pluto momma. That shit heal all the pain. Fighting demons and manifesting new realities, my thoughts and feelings are too deep for a therapist momma. I get world changing visions everyday too. I wish you could see what I see momma. I got a plan of action to take over the world and heal humanity. I wish we were closer and I could share it all with you, maybe you’d understand me momma. Maybe you would’ve been able to see your son different. It’s not your fault mom, but maybe you would’ve reacted better if I told you I was depressed instead of telling my dad. Maybe you would’ve been able to see in my eyes that the soul you were looking into becomes fulfilled empowering other people and helping build people into better versions of themselves unapologetically and fearlessly rather than just making tackles, running back punts, and intercepting passes. Maybe you would’ve been able to let my dad know he was getting too caught up in the trainer-player relationship rather than father-son, maybe you could’ve avoided all of this shit I’m going through now. I just be sitting here trying not to go crazy and stay patient momma. How the hell could they leave me alone like this? How everybody just switch up and turn their back? Maybe you would’ve seen that my interest was more into Mark Zuckerburg and Steve Jobs than Deion Sanders and Lester Hayes. Maybe when I wore bottoms with no mouth piece on the football field you’d know I’m more like you than I am any other person in the world, and we hardly spent any time together in these last 20 years. My dad was caught up in football, he wouldn’t even have been excited. But maybe I could’ve told you about this computer I built on accident early in high school before I cared about tech and this tech kid was impressed by my ability without any knowledge on it or experience. It turned me on to the possibilities of what I could do and contribute to the tech industry, which I know is the industry that will soon control the entire speck of dust we live on. I know you were a queen pin. Maybe you would’ve seen it in my eyes that I was keeping a secret for years. A secret that I was selling late middle school, damn near all high school to keep from ever asking my dad for money since he payed so much in child support and I hated to be another burden for him so I just wanted to get it myself. Maybe when my dad seen the empty pill bottles in my bag that one day you could’ve been there for that trigger to go off inside your head. You probably would’ve smacked me in the head but maybe you would’ve laughed at the fact how strong your genetics are. We could’ve laughed at the fact I was making more a month than some adults were who actually had a day job. What’s even funnier is I didn’t know what to do with the money. I’d just spend it on food, and buying other people stuff. Just big donations towards the less fortunate, I donated more than anything and I always got everybody a present on the holiday’s. Looking back, it was nothing but God cause I never got caught. We could’ve even laughed at your past. Maybe now, even with spending so much time apart you’d reallyyyy understand how much of me is you. Maybe being the softer version and understanding version I’ve always needed, you could’ve told my dad stop being mad at me for always being on my phone when I was younger and just asked what I was looking at. Maybe you would’ve asked. Maybe you would’ve seen I was actually reading and looking up stuff rather than just on social media and texting girls like he thought. Maybe you could’ve sat down on my bed with your friends and y’all could’ve jokingly have told me how y’all always wanted to be treated by men, so I knew how to love and embrace a woman the right way. Maybe you could’ve taught me how to love a woman, my partner, how to be expressive, how to listen better, how to be more understanding, knowing a woman’s thoughts and emotions better. Maybe I wouldn’t have to had learned from heartbreak, experience, and observation. But I promise it’s not your fault. Maybe you would’ve helped me dip in to the visual arts and interior designing of homes like I like. I’m heterosexual but I’m intrigued by how women put together outfits and their care in the design and detail in accessories way further than men could see. Maybe you would’ve helped me understand the in’s and out’s of it all like I’ve always wanted me to know. Maybe we could’ve started this fashion designing venture I’ve always wanted to go on with each other. Maybe you’d be the one to understand that I need more support and investment now than I did when I was playing ball. Maybe you would be the one to understand the idea to rebuild communities, thriving economies in under developed communities, building academies and community centers gives me more of a spark, a spark I need to chase and you could be the one to help my dad understand it all better. Maybe you would be the one to be able to translate it all cause he was so big off the fact knowing that there was no wide receiver in all of the land who could win a 1 on 1 war with his son. I mean, imagine that. I know it hurts. Knowing your son is the best youngin doing what he’s doing, you built it, and it’s what you always wanted to do then he just wants to stop is hard to understand. We went from city to city, state to state, fucking up camps and clamping receivers the crackers was dick riding. Just me and him. But that shit pointless momma, it’s no substance to it. It’s a trap momma, that shit an illusion momma. Nobody sees it but I do, I feel it. Maybe you could’ve been the one to let my dad know to remove his pride and listen to me, just actually listen. Not always to my words but where my attention was and my body language, and even when he tries, don’t listen from his perception and be open to mind. Maybe everything that was is what’s best. There’s so many other scenarios that could’ve played out. My dad’s a great man, but who knows, I could’ve witnessed a failed marriage and a divorce to infidelity, domestic violence, and disrespect between you two which could’ve left me scarred. Maybe it was for the better though. Maybe. I get stuck in my own mind with the maybe’s a lot even more these days. For some reason I try to make sense of it all and implement other scenarios which could’ve made things worse to make me feel better. I promise I’m not blaming you but I just know that no matter how far apart we’ve always been, deep down inside, you still always know the real me because I am you. So I don’t blame you for anything at all, and I don’t hold anything against you. Throughout the years you’ve taken some things as disrespect but I promise it wasn’t. I just have a mouth like you when I”m speaking my truth. And you only find it disrespectful because you see the real truth in it, so you use your authority of being a mom hide and mask the truth you should face. You need to, we need to. You don’t have to face it alone. We can hurt and heal together. I don’t blame you mom. I don’t. It wasn’t until a friend gave me the idea that there’s something that I’m probably not being told or was never told, maybe there’s something deeper to thing that I don’t know. But I’m understanding. We could’ve all sat down and talked about the truths of things. I can understand that. I just hope you understand me too.
If you made it this far, thank you. None of that I’ve ever shared with anyone, so it felt good to be able to express it. Of course it’s not everything, but it’s far more than I’ve ever expressed. Like I said earlier in this post, I’m not bashing my mom, I don’t hate her, nor do I have any ill feelings towards her, but the word “mom” and “mother” doesn’t trigger any comfort or love inside me when I hear it. I’m sure there’s more to it than I know and was ever told, and if so, somebody need their ass whooped for causing me internal pain and suffering. I don’t discredit her as a mom by any means but my feelings and my perception aren’t wrong at all. When I get a text from her and read the words, “I love you,” to me they are just words and I don’t feel it. Not saying she doesn’t love me but I’ve never felt it. If you gave her a, “Who is this” test based on likes and interests, she wouldn’t guess its me and I couldn’t guess it’s her. We don’t know each other. No bash, just the honest truth.
For anyone who has grown up without their parent(s), I’m sorry. Everything we’ve been through is for the greater good of our highest evolved self and we were given this journey for a reason. Your pain and your hurt could be so you can evolve and grow up to heal someone else. I don’t have all of the answers for life, neither does anyone else. We’re all mortals who try our best and fail more than we succeed. It’s okay. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re not a burden, it’s not your fault, you’re not forgotten, and you’re truly a gift. Feedback is highly encouraged as I’m trying to build this to be a platform where you feel safe, not alone, heard, and supported; you can choose to stay anonymous or include your social media username so I can shout you out on my page.
Stay classy, stay conscious. Bless up!