I found this over at http://luckyottershaven.com/2015/02/20/i-cant-be-broken/ I love this picture and saying so much I am posting it here.
I know it seems so simplistic but I am preparing myself for a deathbed scene with mother. I said I would never go, but I think I am changing my mind. I want the validation and the screaming that might come from her, when the truth comes out. I know I might get kicked out of the hospital or something, but it really doesn't matter.
And no, mother is not dying yet, but it will come someday.
So yeah, this little clip might seem simplistic, but I've been having these dreams lately. Mother really wasn't real. Just a figment of my imagination. So were my childhood "good" memories. They really didn't happen. It was my imagination at work to protect myself. My pony I had while growing up had a lame leg, it was permanently crippled and it was given to me by father. I rode it, and it felt cruel, but I had no choice, I had to show that I appreciated it. My brother had a normal pony, that was healthy and spirited.
Nowadays, when someone gives me something I don't like I tell them. If I don't like someone's behaviour towards me, I can choose to leave and/or tell them.
When I was in grade 5, I figured out a difficult math calculation, that the rest of the class couldn't and I was hushed by the teacher. I liked painted nails, and mother hated it, and called me a whore for it. And totally harassed me for it. After father left, mother was surrounded by men. Well, not really. She would get drunk, drool would come out of the side of her mouth and some guy's privy parts were attached to her.
I think I could have been athletic or a genius, but any challenge I would cower. I don't know what I would have become.
So I clipped this photo. Walked away like a boss? Well, I'll wait till after I visit mother on her deathbed.
All my mothers death was, was a way for her to inflict more damage on her kids and have the last word as she does so. Try making a point to a grave. It's a remarkably one sided conversation. Which is not so different from when she was alive.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry you and your sister had to endure that. It is remarkable how these MN's do that right until the point of their death. I still can't say for sure if I'll go there on her deathbed, or even if she has a deathbed, or just dies. I would like to do it, but not expecting anything from her, just more damage. But I have lots to say. Lots of times I have cowered to her and to others, I won't do that anymore. I've learned so much, I feel strong enough to call a psychopath what it is. As a total separate entity from me, I have the strength now to do it.
DeleteWe have been so silent. Why not speak up? Even if it is only to get my own satisfaction.
This creature I called mother doesn't really exist. It is less than anything I can even think to call it. That is what I really want to say.
And when I don't go to her deathbed and funeral, it will only let the others think bad things of me. I know that doesn't matter, but its just not true, I want the truth.