After asking on my private twitter what I should blog about, fluff vs my depressing past, I decided to go with… DEPRESSING PAST!
Aren’t you lucky?
If I wasn’t so sleep deprived I’d just make a list because it’s easier but alas, sleep deprived.
So the other night my husband and I were up super duper late and somehow the conversation came around to my past. He knows ENOUGH of it to feel bad for me and to really dislike some members of my family, but to tell him even more? To wonder if he’s going to see how fucked up I really am? Not the easiest.
I asked him if his mother ever made him a microwavable meal while having a porn movie playing on the small TV in the kitchen or if she ever drove him to a sex shop (not the oh so classy kind but the kind that makes you look where you step) and get pissed when he didn’t get a “toy” that she felt was “suitable” (for the record, I got dice and fuzzy handcuffs, the least threatening objects I could find at the time).
How about the first time you end up in the teen shelter (the one and only time your twin was in a shelter), this time only for a weekend, because you felt you had to call 911 on your own mother because you were scared she was going to seriously injure your sister, to have your mother tell the arriving police officers that she wanted you, JUST YOU, to go because she would dream about setting ME on fire and burning me alive. However, a statement like that got her a weekend in the mental ward and us girls into a shelter.
Ah, if only I knew then that that first exposure to the shelter would give my mother the idea, the brilliance, to send me there anytime she got angry at me, or in her words “I feel MANIC today” while saying how she wished she never had kids, wished she had an abortion… maybe I would have tried to explore other options like emancipation.
Or how about the living situation getting SO BAD you end up running away across the country (to the man who’d later be the father to your first born) only to have the police show up after getting a phone call from your mother saying you’re doing and dealing cocaine? One look at me could show them how untrue that was. Even better? Two months later she personally drove me back to the airport to go back to live with him because the court decided she couldn’t keep sending me off to shelters for no reason except for she had dreams of burning me alive.
This all happened in about a year time span. Literally. All in ONE YEAR.
You all envy me. Hardcore. I can tell. Besides, I’ve written about her before.
If you hear my twin sister talk about our past, our mother, she would say she had a hard time too. I don’t doubt it. My mother was cruel with her words and even though my sister got the better end of the deal from my perspective (a car, computer, bed, didn’t have to work, none of the sexual stuff, etc), I’m sure she has her own issues to process. Although to my current knowledge, she and our mother still talk on the phone weekly. So maybe not?
I don’t acknowledge her as a grandmother to my boys because she never has acted as such. She only has met my oldest twice. Once when he was 18 months old and we drove up and visited her for my birthday a few years ago and the second time is when she came down right away to meet and visit with my twin sister’s newborn daughter (at the time). He was 6 years old and had no idea who she was really. She’s never met, or made any effort to meet, my youngest son. He’s going to be 3 years old this October. She’s never met or spoken to my husband. She never met my oldest son’s biological father.
So why do I post about this now? Today? No specific reason really. It’s just always bouncing around in my brain. Years of therapy, especially as a teenager WHILE all of this was going on, didn’t help. Really, I think it’s just the older I get, the older my kids get, the more paranoid I become. What if I turn out like her? My twin sister is already following her path. My brother has zero relationship with her.
I don’t deny that she has mental health problems or that marriage to my father wasn’t detrimental to her, but it’s hard to tell what is real and what is her own created reality when she talks about her past, her present… it’s hard to dig through the lies hoping for a bit of truth.
I am beyond 100% positive that this post will upset her, will end in a flurry of emails and letters to my siblings or even to myself, even though we’ve been estranged for a long time now. I will even bet that my sister will be upset as well, that I didn’t perceive her life to be as difficult as mine, that sure, she was given a car, but when I had moved back in after a failed attempt with living with my father (a glorious story for another time), my mother took the car away, so that means life was ROUGH for her too dammit!
I feel like I make conscious decisions to be BETTER for my kids, healthier for them both physically and mentally. I make more of an effort to talk about it, mostly to my husband, but still. To try and get it out of my head. To stop my nightmares.
But deep down? I still feel like that terrified child wondering if her mother was actually going to burn her alive.