I had to have permission. Permission to burp him. Permission to choose a tv show for him, because I knew Sesame Street was very educational. I had to fight for his right to watch it. I had to have permission to take him out to lunch when I was working at the age of 18 and had my own money to spend. I wasn't allowed to drive, so I had to ask my mother to drive us to the IHOP and let us have lunch.
As long as she lived, I was never allowed to be angry at her. My memories were ridiculed and mocked. I was tormented every day of my life.What would it have cost her to be kind to me for a few minutes?
When I was old enough to date, I had to make a bargain with her. I could only go out with my boyfriend one night a week, she had to go out on the other weekend night and have me stay in and 'babysit' my son. I could never call him my son. I learned my lesson on that when he was 3 days old. Never stand up for myself, never speak the truth, never be a mother to my baby.
Now that he is 48 years old, nobody can make me shut up. Nobody can call me a liar or insane, I just won't allow that abuse in my life ever again. It was deeply abusive. Being forced to live a lie against my own nature. My own mind was a prison. My sorrow was a secret shame. I didn't know what was the matter with me, I only knew what I was told; to be careful to not let anyone know I was crazy.
Disrespecting me every day of my life was the craziness. Putting a false front on our whole lives was the craziness invented by my mother. Building emnity between my sister and me was her idea too. Reward the younger girl whenever she made me feel worthless or ugly or foolish. Heaps of praises on her when she lied about me........ pretending her big sister was going to a seance in a graveyard on halloween......... something I would never do. But she was believed, and her lies greatly received. What a lesson to teach a child; to reward foul play, and praise division.
THERE was insanity in our family, but it wasn't mine. "He's an alcoholic" and "I've always had my sneaking suspicions about him." all lies to make her seem like a good mother. Solid proof is not the same as a sneaking suspicion. She always had proof. She always bolstered her life with denial, a pretty and tame way of saying a huge stinking lie.
Bullcrap by any other name, still stinks.
So thanks Mom, for making me suffer so much through all of those years, that I can't go to sleep at night without the tears. I can't go through my days without the huge hole in my heart. Breaking a child's trust is the most harmful way to break their heart. It never gets unbroken.
