agony

I can't be unbroken. I can't have my baby boy back. I have my son, but he will never be a baby again. I have dreams, when I CAN sleep, of all of my children being toddlers or infants or very small children, and it kills me when I need to wake up to roll over, and I realize my Gracie is dead, my son is 44 years old and I can never go back and be who I was meant to be.
The motherhood I had in my heart was ripped away for no sane reason, I was smacked down, battered and broken, every damned time I tried to defend myself, I got beaten down verbally or with fists and with knives held to me throat by one damned parent or another. HOW DARE they even be called parents?????

I want my baby back day and night, and it hurts me and keeps me from being whole. The lies destroyed me, and it took so long to get my truth back, and time is something that can never return to me. Yes, I have my son, but when he says "Mom", he is usually refering to her. My tormenter, my punisher, my destroyer.
I am Mom. I am crying and moaning for the sweet baby nobody would ever let me call son.
I can't stop crying.
I got angry at my computer for being so slow to get me to where I can pound out these words. Nothing takes the hurt away.

Yes, my pain from Gracie's murder never fades either, and it seems impossible to have this much pain inside.

I know for sure now, why the scriptures say that Mary was blessed, and why we say she was covered with special protection from conception in her mother's womb....... the horrible way women and children are treated in this world, this whole world, as slaves, and sex objects and possessions and kicked around like filth........ the damage done to women and girls is an atrocity that damages the soul so deeply there is no way God could allow the same garbage to happen to HIS son's mother, not for a day, or an hour or a minute....... Mary was blessed by God's grace, and her life was not perfect, but she was undefiled. How astounding it must be to be so absolutely loved as to be undefiled!
How many eons would God have to wait for a child to be born and just loved and protected and not harmed and destroyed by the evil of this world? He knew how disgusting the humans had become, and we could not wait another generation without his intervention. We needed Jesus then, and we sure need him now! Now girls at not just unsafe in their homes, but pushed out into the world unsupervised and predators snatch them up like baby lambs in a meat market. Everyone has blinders on. Our children are NOT safe in our back yards, our playgrounds, our schoolyards and they are not safe in their bedrooms at home or the school houses they go to and their friends are never strong enough, smart enough, fast enough, to save them from the wolf at the door.

We need God to get through our days. We need God to get through our nights. And the evil one creeps into my dreams and kicks me to the curb a few more rounds. Hell can't be soon enough for him.

I have to get out the bottle of Holy Water, and pray again and beg for a moment's peace. A moment where I can rest and know that I won't be that infant being molested by my father while my mother gets her much needed sleep. A moment when I won't be the two year old who is plopped up onto her baby brother's changing table and raped by the bastard who has no right to ever be called Daddy. A moment when I won't be the four year old, tied up in the stable on the cold ground with a knife at my throat because I said "I hate what you're doing." and refused to say I liked it. I refused to lie. I would rather die, and could very well have died for it.
A moment when I will not be the seventh grader going to school dressed to hide the shame and never understanding what was really happening.
A moment when I can hold my newborn son, and name him, and tell him "I'm your Mommy".

He knows I love him. He can never know my pain. and he never should.
He never should have been left alone with my mother's brother, time after time to be molested by that bastard! She knew better. He belonged with me, and I belonged with him.
My daughters deserved to know their brother and not think he was their uncle. My neice deserved to be free from the family garbage falling down on her, as my girls needed to be without bastard 'father/stepfather' men and the whole world full of bastards poised to leap on them, more lambs to the wolves.
I stood up for them. I fought for them. I never had a day go by when I wasn't fighting for their safety. And I took them to therapists, and talked truth with them and let them own their anger and respected their right to kick back at creeps and wolves and devils.

None of should have to.

God, save us all.

I tried to get some sleep

it's 3:20 am, and I was in bed trying to sleep, but my thoughts are troubling me too much. I keep thinking about the one time when we lived on Gainsboro Rd when Mom came out of her bedroom around 5 in the morning and found me awake, having gotten up to use the bathroom and get a drink.
And for the first minute when I saw her, I was dumbfounded, because I had not seen her without the fake pregnant belly before, and there she was, in her night gown with a flat belly. I felt a burning tingling sensation up the back of my neck and my head was filling with fright. I asked her what happened to her, and was pointing at her belly, and she said "Oh good grief, what are you doing up this early?" and she went back in her room and came back a few minutes later with her large belly and a robe over her night gown.
I could not figure it out. She told me she was pregnant, everyone thought she was. She acted like nothing happened, and sent me back to bed.

How could I know my mother was a liar? How could I guess what her plan was? When ever I complained of any of my physical symptoms, she would give me some lame explanation and pretend there was nothing odd about it.
I had no way of knowing I was the one who was pregnant. I knew I was supposed to be ashamed of my shape, but I was never told why. I was certainly never told what to expect when I went into labor, up until then, I thought all babies needed to be born in hospitals, I thought ceasarian was the only way to give birth.... an operation.

I was only twelve after all.

I keep trying to forgive her for the lies and the shame imposed on me.
I don't know how long it will take me to deal with this though, it did take 42 years for me to finally face the truth.

It also took me 35 years to recognize that a young man who had sex with me when I was still fifteen actually raped me. It was not violent, it was sneaky. He had gotten me really stoned on pot, and tried really hard to make out with me, but I kept turning him down. Finally he left, and I went to sleep. He came back a while later and put his hand through the window screen where I was spending the night and woke me up and told me he was locked out of his house. I went and let him in the front door, stumbled back to bed, and continued sleeping. I didn't even know he was in the room with me until I awakened in the middle of sex.
He gave me a bunch of lines, pretended he was in love with me, and i was confused, because I did not remember saying yes to him.
I never did say yes to him that night. He was very manipulative for an 18 year old, and I was naive.

Taking years to deal with stuff seems the way I tend to manage, with the exception of protecting my girls from a monster, I stepped up quickly on that one. My children always make me braver and faster.

Being brave is not easy, especially when all alone. I'm still learning.
Hey, I'm only 56 years old now.