Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Take a Walk Down the Path of Hate and Abuse...You can hold my hand if you like...

I'm going to take you on a dark twisted path of emotional and verbal abuse.  There is nothing nice about it and I don't plan on sugar coating it.  The words that weaved emotional destruction as they entered my very being.  It doesn't always take a hand, or a fist to bring you down, words are just as powerful as a slap to the face or a punch to the stomach.  You learn to shut people out and put up walls to protect yourself.  Even if someone gets through, you're waiting on the other side with a new brick to put in place of the one that was removed.  You emotionally shut down and have trouble learning how to cope properly in any hard situation.  So hold my hand...and let me open a door into my past...

My mom always said I was a shy little girl, but I never knew why.  Most things you don't find out until you are older and wiser.  I don't know if I was shy or scared.  I wouldn't say I had an unhealthy upbringing, but I'm sure I could have been an outgoing little girl if given the chance.  Any child that goes through divorce or any kind of uproar to everyday normal life suffers, we may not see it as adults, but they do.  They become needy, withdrawn, afraid, shy.  They panic, get tummy aches, have objects that they hang on to so they can feel secure.  Worst of all, they hold onto every single word their parents tell them, good or bad.

I am pretty sure at the age of three that is what I turned into.  My mom and dad separated, my mom took me away from my dad, the last time I seen him was when I was five.  I cried when he picked me up, not because I didn't know who he was, but because I was afraid of him.  A five year old child afraid of her daddy?  From the time I was little until I actually got the balls to call my dad, all I ever heard was how bad he was.  What he did to my mom, what he did to me.  How my mom got full custody because he was such a bad man.  Little children are so impressionable, I believed every word of it,well into my late twenties.  I hated a man I didn't even know!

I remember bits and pieces growing up, but there are a few things that are crystal clear, like it happened yesterday.  Being told that everything my father gave me, I destroyed because I didn't want anything from him.  My mother yelling, cursing, hating.  Making my stepfather breakdown, asking her two children who where 2 and 7 who they would live with because we were leaving.  Who asks their kids that? 

Being so scared because your mother is calling a little disrespectful son of a bitch that you hide in your room while she is on the other side screaming wildly and then kicks a hole in the door.  The hole is your fault, because you made her so angry. I was 10.

Being threatened with a black rubber strap at every wrong move you make.  Being grounded for not saying the right thing. 

Being call a slut, because you had a boyfriend, who you hadn't even kissed.  I was 12.

Getting excited about a dance, then at the last minute being told you couldn't go because you didn't sweep the floor good enough.

Being told to clean the house, clean it and then get yelled at because it wasn't done right.

I could go on, but I won't, but I will list some everyday words that floated around the house...

Asshole           Son of a Bitch     Mouthy      Disrepectful     Goddamn son of a bitch     

                                         Useless. No Good. Son of a Bitch

I'll stop.  My mother was, is and will always be an angry person.  Everyone is against her.  Everyone hates her. (In her mind).

Once I passed Grade 10, I was accused of thinking that I was better than her because I thought I was smarter than her.  Really?

She threatened to charged my boyfriend with statutory rape!  This is the man I married, but really?  She was going to pay for my college, anything I wanted to do, if I left my boyfriend of 4 years.  Just drop him and do what she wanted. 

In Grade 12, I had finally had enough.  We were hashing it out, she was being her typical hateful self.  She called me a disrespectful little bitch, I told her to get respect you had to give it.  She raised her hand to hit me, I blocked it and punched her in the shoulder.  All hell broke loose then.  She told me I couldn't go to my graduation dance/party.  I told her she couldn't stop me.  She didn't even pay for my grad dress.  Cheap, she was always cheap.  Unless it came to something for her.  My boyfriend/husband paid for my dress. 

She always had the knack to make me feel so small, so...useless.  To second guess myself.  I despised her so much that I didn't have any grad pictures taken with her.  None, and no I don't regret it.  I was aware of how families were, how children should be treated.  I spent as much time with my friends and family as I could.  At least there I could be myself, act myself and most of all have fun. 

I left the morning after my grad.  Packed up gone.  But she still followed, in spirit.  When she found out I was pregnant.  When I got married.  When I met my real father.  And many, many times in between.  - Many more posts.

Today I have mixed feelings for my mother.  Yes, I love her.  If only, because a child should love their parents.  That's all I am really going to say on that subject.  She will never change.  But I can, I did.  I have it in me to be just like her, but I'm not.  I could have raised my children the way I was raised, but I didn't.  She is a phone call away, and I choose not to call her.

I choose not to have negativity in my life. 

I will lead you out of the this tangled path of darkness, a path I never look back on.  The memories are there, but are suppressed in the depths of forever darkness.  The words that molded me, shaped me and made me strong enough to change.

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