My mom was a drunk. I say this with love though. I don't have a single memory of her as a child sober. Is that to say she was never sober? No. It's just that my mind remembers the bad times.
She came home one night loaded. She worked at the oil can so it was well after 4 am. My dad had to work in the morning and was yelling at her. Asking her how she was going to get up in a few hours with the four of us. Feed us, take care of us. She grabbed her blanket and made for the couch like she always did.
He kicked her out.
She broke the door down and cut my dads nose by accident with his glasses and the door. I yelled don't hurt my daddy. I was always a daddy's girl.
That was it. We saw my mom on the weekends. We packed up all of her stuff into agar age bags and ripped it off at the oil can. It was kind of fun for us kids really. Little did we know she was the lesser of all evils.
We lived with my grandparents for the next five years. Icrecream and fun, and being spoiled. It was a perfect childhood.
We saw my mom on the weekends and my dad when he was off. We loved it.
My dad then met a woman on the internet. We talked to her on the phone. She sounded nice. She moved up in November of 1993. I was 11. She had 3 children. They married in December.
Life changed. We rarely saw my mom or my grandparents. And we were abused. We weren't allowed to sing, use washcloths, have baths. We had rules posted everywhere. We had to comb dandruff from their hair sometimes until 3 am with school the next morning. We had to kneel on the fireplace if we were "bad" we were so hungry we would eat stuff that couldn't be traced like sugar and raisins. My sister took raw perogies to school. We used to lick the bottom of the bowls before we washed them. We did all the chores.
Playing outside was a luxury, and only in backyard. And we were hit. Relentlessly. Cutting boards, threatened with lighter fluid, my sister even had her shoulder blade dislocated. But they will say we deserved it.
2 of my sisters ran away at 15. I stayed for my baby sister Kara. Then I had an epiphany. I would cut myself with a razor everytime she hit me. Well I didn't stop cutting.
My dad came home one night and was trying to make small talk. I told him he didn't know me. I showed him my legs and he cried. He took me and my sister to the park and kicked her out. And asked us to tell him everything. We did. He took her back the next day.
They called suicide hotline and listened on the other end. They took away my razors so I couldn't show which was embarrassing for grade 12.
I got a bean for everytime I was "bad" so I was pretty much grounded my entire grade 12 year. She used to hit us and then say oh I guess we won't be getting hair combers tonight.
We used to have to sing cadence and be in boot camp orchestrated by my step brother. She used to weigh me and compare me to my sisters. Tell me I was going to be fat like my mothers side. She told me my mother only wanted the China hutch and my parents divorced me on My birthday. She was going to light me on fire one night until my step brother jumped in.
One time She was hitting me over the face and cute me with my glasses. I was bleeding and bled on my shirt. Afterwards she told me to clean my shirt. I said no I was going to wear it to school to show people I was abused. My dad made me change it. I was washing it out in the bathroom and she came in and said don't use hot water. My sister said to me to leave. That I wouldn't make it out if I didn't. So I did. I never looked back.
I'm currently being treated for my depression. For being a daddy's girl and still loving him with all my heart. I take pills for my nightmares. I relapsed at Christmas due to high stress and self harmed again.
Was it the divorce? Was it the abuse? All I know is that it wasn't my fault and I'm on the path to recovery and happiness.
0 comments:
Post a Comment