Jumping Off Places Meme ... Week 8 April 2011

Younger memories ... click here

The inward journey is a lifelong pilgrimage.  

An adult now, the journey has been filled with many good memories, and even more prevalent, the nightmares.  It is unfortunate that the monster mother continues the games and actions meant to control and injure, even in her seventies, as the youngest of us continues her healing battle. 

Maine and New Hampshire camping vacations, participating in elementary school May Pole Ceremonies, empty refrigerator boxes used to slide down the grassy hill between our house and my grandparents home. Standing at the edge of Nanna & Grampy's backyard filling our mouths with warm, sweet, fresh raspberries and blackberries from the vines.  Traveling into the woods on the tailgate of our station wagon eager to pick wild blueberries, and eating hard pears from the school yard tree.  Raising tadpoles, ice skating and bonfires on cranberry bogs in winter.  Clyde, my fathers black Labrador retriever, yearly month-long vacations visiting maternal relatives here in Florida.  Suddenly, I learn that my father is not my real father. 

Good memories tempered by the impossible. 

It was like a boomerang, coming back only to knock me upside the head.  She yelled at me.  "How dare I embarrass my "father" like that in front of everyone?"  Oh my god, in trouble again.  What is happening?  My head spins.  Who kicked me in the stomach?

Arriving at Aunt Betty and Uncle Al's home, everyone leaves the car making a beeline for the house.  I am told to wait.  She takes me aside in the driveway, yells at me again for embarrassing my "father", how could I be so rude.  "No, he is not your father."  "Stay here until you stop crying."  NEVER bring  the subject up again, questions are unacceptable. 

Frightened into believing!  Why am I different?  Why is this so bad?  Head continues to spin, stomach hurts, can't breath.  Hold me.  Please hold me.  Love me, PLEASE!  She gives me a piece of gum and tells me not to come into the house until "you can stop crying"!  I see her back walking away through my hot, salty, frigthened tears.

God, please take me away, anywhere.  Somewhere.  Help me find my real father, he will take me to a home of love and peace.  "Real" grandparents?  Sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles ...

It is a coming to terms, realizations, purging, giving up, and letting go.  Looking at the adult, with an adults vision and a child's broken spirit.  How do I forgive?  Do I want to know how?

Jumping Off Places Meme ... Week 7 April 8, 2011

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Week 5: A bead of perspiration rolled from my temple down across my cheek. Or was it a tear? Why won't she love me is my last thought as my head hits the open bottom drawer. Dizziness overwhelmed and scared me, and I knew, this is not normal.

Week 6: Smoke filled the room like a cloudy day. No I realize with head spinning, everything is blurry. I cry out in pain... disbelief is mixed with tears, I hear mothers mocking laughter. Why did this just happen? What could be so evil to deserve such harsh consequences? Everyone in the kitchen is just standing there, no one moves to help, take a stand, comfort and protect a little girl? Condem the mother/wife for what she has just done?
Alone in confusion, hurt to the core, in the gut for the first time that can be remembered, too young to process the combination of all that is happening. It comes to me, move. Escape. It is then she realizes that there is no escape. There will never be. Never.

Slumped back toward the kitchen, alone, heading toward my bedroom and all of the stuffed animal friends who love me.

Week 7:  A door slammed and someone ran down the stairs in an obvious hurry!  Waking with a jolt, must have fallen asleep.  What time ... just after midnight.  Another party in the basement and I hate that my bedroom door is just steps from the bar and party downstairs, and the only bathroom in the house.

Too afraid to ever sleep with my door closed, these get-togethers are always a restless night for me.  It is unnerving when a drunkard enters my bedroom, wobbling, stinking of smoke, trying to adjust their eyes to the darkness.

Laying quietly, eyes open only a slit in case I need to somehow protect myself, surrounded by fourteen stuffed animals, frozen waiting for them to realize they missed the room to the toilet.  Why doesn't my mother and step-father realize how awful their parties are to me, a scar on the spirit of my childhood.
Orange light?  Not really flashing, but I am too young to think of another word.  The flikering leads me into the kitchen, something on the stove is on fire!  The last thing I remember is a gutteral sound ... did it come from me?

Jumping Off Places ... Week 5 or 6? April 1, 2011

Week 4:  A bead of perspiration rolled from my temple down across my cheek. Or was it a tear? Why won't she love me is my last thought as my head hits the open bottom drawer. Dizziness overwhelmed and scared me, and I knew, this is not normal.

Week 5:  Smoke filled the room like a cloudy day.  No I realize with head spinning, everything is blurry.  I cry out in pain... disbelief is mixed with tears, I hear mothers mocking laughter.  Why did this just happen?  What could be so evil to deserve such harsh consequences?  Everyone in the kitchen is just standing there, no one moves to help, take a stand, comfort and protect a little girl?  Condem the mother/wife for what she has just done?

Alone in confusion, hurt to the core, in the gut for the first time that can be remembered, too young to process the combination of all that is happening.  It comes to me, move. Escape. It is then she realizes that there is no escape. There will never be. Never.

Slumped back toward the kitchen, alone, heading toward my bedroom and all of the stuffed animal friends who love me.