Paula raised me as her own

For years, I fought Paula being my mom. You’re not my mom. That was my attitude. Now I have her mannerisms, her wit, and her way of responding to things. I’m a mini her.

It took moving out, growing up, and having a kid of my own for me to appreciate how much she’d put up with.

TL;DR: I spent years telling Paula she wasn’t my mom. Now I have her mannerisms and her wit. Between an apology I owed her, a conversation where I needed her to listen, and raising my own son, I finally understood more.

I didn’t make it easy

My dad married Paula when I was 7. My mother, Joyce, had died by suicide when I was a baby. Paula raised me as her own, and I spent years pushing back on her.

The summer after I graduated high school, when I was 18, we got into an argument and I punched a wall. I don’t remember all the details. I remember reacting badly, being angry, and feeling ashamed afterward.

I bought a flower and apologized. She accepted my apology. I’m sorry for how I treated her, and I wish that moment hadn’t happened.

It’s sad to look back at it now, especially knowing how close we are. I had somebody who was there for me, and I didn’t appreciate her until much later.

Sometimes I just needed my mom

After a town hall in January 2017 where police put hands on me, I was angry. Paula and I talked about it. We have always had lively conversations about politics and racism, and she was trying to make sure I understood what it meant to be a Black man in that room.

I told her I wished there were moments when she could just be my mom.

She heard me. She said that if I needed to get something off my chest, I could tell her I wanted her to listen. She was right about what she was telling me, and she still made room for what I needed from her.

I can be myself with her. We can talk about national politics, local politics, racism, or something funny one of us found on Instagram. She has always been a safe place for me, including through years when I was living a very public life.

The toilet seat

When I was young, I didn’t lift the toilet seat. My mom would get pissed, and what she said went in one ear and out the other.

Then I had a son who did the same thing. Dude, lift the toilet seat.

I sent her a text: “My bad.”

There was a lot I understood only after I had my own kid. That was one of the smaller, funnier examples. She’d been dealing with me all those years, and I was finally getting a little of it back.

We’re close

We go to dinner. We share reels and check in. We don’t talk every day, but I know I can call her when I need somebody level-headed to talk to. We laugh and joke. I hear her wit in my own.

Joyce may have given me life, but Paula taught me how to live. I spent years resisting her being my mom. She kept being my mom anyway.

If you are struggling, call or text 988, the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. You can also text HOME to 741741.

About Khary Penebaker

Khary Penebaker is Division President at MetalMaster-RoofMaster, the Upper Midwest division of Wolkow Braker Roofing Corp. He founded Penebaker Enterprises and grew it from $1.5M to $15M. A gun violence prevention advocate and former Everytown for Gun Safety Fellow, Khary brings two decades of leadership in commercial roofing, architectural sheet metal, and civic engagement.

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