Family Destruction
Saturday November 27th 2004
So two days before I turn the BIG 27. My cell rings to the tune of Jason Mraz singing “You and I Both” the polka version. I let it ring for a few more seconds to dance to the tune.
I picked up. It was my older sister. Apparently she’s been trying to get in touch with me since the night before. So she started to ramble on about if anything should happen to her, meaning if she’s unable to speak, I should know why she has come to be that way.
At this point I was like, “what? What happened?” She received news from a reliable source that said her mother, (mine as well) is planning on throwing boiling hot water on her in order for my sister to move out. The source I speak of is my oldest sister Ann Marie who has been talking with my mother in desperation to cease and desist any wrong and ill thinking. Ann Marie lives in Canada with her two over active kids. She’s a single mom on medication for severe depression. Like me, she feels helpless in this situation.
We have all come to the conclusion that our mother was pretty crazy since we were kids. When I was 12, she had threatened to throw her three daughters out of the 6th floor apartment window. She went on to say that the best feeling would be hearing us splatter on the pavement below. WOW!! Tell me how you really feel mom.
What could make a parent think such things? Someone on the outside world would think that these kids she speaks so terribly of are terrors. We were far from it.
As a child, my sister Colleen, Emily and I were unlike the majority. We stayed indoors because our mom threatened us about venturing out the apartment. Her words, “I will kill you if you leave this house”. As a child listening to these words flowing effortlessly from her mouth, I believed her.
I couldn’t participate in school activities because it would have clashed with my curfew of 3:10 pm. We sat in this apartment, afraid to laugh, afraid to smile and afraid to move about freely. She went as far as to cut the cord to the television. She even upped it one by changing the cordless phone to a rotary, which she later put a lock on so we couldn’t use.
We were afraid of this woman, afraid to call her mom, afraid to touch her. We never disobeyed her in any way. We not even once had any ill thoughts of hurting her. She had us so struck with terror that I was even afraid to eat. I had this weird notion that the food was laced with poison. Who could have blamed me?
To hear what my mother had said in referenced to my sister, I couldn’t and wouldn’t put it pass her. It’s true, not all parents love the ones they’ve created. More like us (Ones whose parents seem to shun and dismiss with the drop of a dime) are coming forward.
When a child says “Mom, I love you” to only be answered by the mom saying, “yeah right”, it’s hard to understand why persons, who think with such hatred, are given the benefits of having children.
Because of this woman I call mom, I left home early in my teens. I adopted my friends and their families as my own. I seek out motherly advice from the elderly, and the only time I actually received an “I love you” hug, was from my recently deceased dog Sarge.
I can’t run away from who shares my blood. I can’t turn away and resume being someone I’m not. They are the ones whom I share my last name. I can try to deal. I “can” continue to be calm and collected in a personal society built on shame, anger and hatred. I seek an immediate family in the friendships I’ve made. Wanting to hear “I love you” from my mother is now something I know that I will never hear or feel. “Could this possibly be real?” I’ve asked myself over and over, and every morning when I rise, I pinch myself to see if it is. Ouch!!
So, with tears in my eyes, I told my sister to be careful. Try to get out of there for the sake of her 15 year old son and herself. Be strong even though the walls around you keep getting smaller and smaller. At the time, I couldn’t be there with her physically, but mentally I was trying my best to send some kind of signal to my mother to stop her hatred way of thinking.
My sister, though married, has yet to actually live a married life. For the past four years they’ve lived apart. Both of them trying to save enough money to live a dream. The truth is, they’ll never have enough money. The hurtful truth is that I think it’s an excuse made by a man who doesn’t want to be married. Either way, the outcome seems bleak for the pair. He’s renting a room in New Jersey and she’s living at home with mom. Who can see the light at the end of that tunnel?
In closing, when I was eleven, I awoke and went to the kitchen. My mother turned to look at me. There was no hello. She asked me if I had worn my new bra to bed. I replied yes. Before I could explain my insecurities, my head went crashing into the concrete wall. She has used a heavy frying pan to hit my head. My head left a crack in the wall that went up to the ceiling
So two days before I turn the BIG 27. My cell rings to the tune of Jason Mraz singing “You and I Both” the polka version. I let it ring for a few more seconds to dance to the tune.
I picked up. It was my older sister. Apparently she’s been trying to get in touch with me since the night before. So she started to ramble on about if anything should happen to her, meaning if she’s unable to speak, I should know why she has come to be that way.
At this point I was like, “what? What happened?” She received news from a reliable source that said her mother, (mine as well) is planning on throwing boiling hot water on her in order for my sister to move out. The source I speak of is my oldest sister Ann Marie who has been talking with my mother in desperation to cease and desist any wrong and ill thinking. Ann Marie lives in Canada with her two over active kids. She’s a single mom on medication for severe depression. Like me, she feels helpless in this situation.
We have all come to the conclusion that our mother was pretty crazy since we were kids. When I was 12, she had threatened to throw her three daughters out of the 6th floor apartment window. She went on to say that the best feeling would be hearing us splatter on the pavement below. WOW!! Tell me how you really feel mom.
What could make a parent think such things? Someone on the outside world would think that these kids she speaks so terribly of are terrors. We were far from it.
As a child, my sister Colleen, Emily and I were unlike the majority. We stayed indoors because our mom threatened us about venturing out the apartment. Her words, “I will kill you if you leave this house”. As a child listening to these words flowing effortlessly from her mouth, I believed her.
I couldn’t participate in school activities because it would have clashed with my curfew of 3:10 pm. We sat in this apartment, afraid to laugh, afraid to smile and afraid to move about freely. She went as far as to cut the cord to the television. She even upped it one by changing the cordless phone to a rotary, which she later put a lock on so we couldn’t use.
We were afraid of this woman, afraid to call her mom, afraid to touch her. We never disobeyed her in any way. We not even once had any ill thoughts of hurting her. She had us so struck with terror that I was even afraid to eat. I had this weird notion that the food was laced with poison. Who could have blamed me?
To hear what my mother had said in referenced to my sister, I couldn’t and wouldn’t put it pass her. It’s true, not all parents love the ones they’ve created. More like us (Ones whose parents seem to shun and dismiss with the drop of a dime) are coming forward.
When a child says “Mom, I love you” to only be answered by the mom saying, “yeah right”, it’s hard to understand why persons, who think with such hatred, are given the benefits of having children.
Because of this woman I call mom, I left home early in my teens. I adopted my friends and their families as my own. I seek out motherly advice from the elderly, and the only time I actually received an “I love you” hug, was from my recently deceased dog Sarge.
I can’t run away from who shares my blood. I can’t turn away and resume being someone I’m not. They are the ones whom I share my last name. I can try to deal. I “can” continue to be calm and collected in a personal society built on shame, anger and hatred. I seek an immediate family in the friendships I’ve made. Wanting to hear “I love you” from my mother is now something I know that I will never hear or feel. “Could this possibly be real?” I’ve asked myself over and over, and every morning when I rise, I pinch myself to see if it is. Ouch!!
So, with tears in my eyes, I told my sister to be careful. Try to get out of there for the sake of her 15 year old son and herself. Be strong even though the walls around you keep getting smaller and smaller. At the time, I couldn’t be there with her physically, but mentally I was trying my best to send some kind of signal to my mother to stop her hatred way of thinking.
My sister, though married, has yet to actually live a married life. For the past four years they’ve lived apart. Both of them trying to save enough money to live a dream. The truth is, they’ll never have enough money. The hurtful truth is that I think it’s an excuse made by a man who doesn’t want to be married. Either way, the outcome seems bleak for the pair. He’s renting a room in New Jersey and she’s living at home with mom. Who can see the light at the end of that tunnel?
In closing, when I was eleven, I awoke and went to the kitchen. My mother turned to look at me. There was no hello. She asked me if I had worn my new bra to bed. I replied yes. Before I could explain my insecurities, my head went crashing into the concrete wall. She has used a heavy frying pan to hit my head. My head left a crack in the wall that went up to the ceiling
posted by Farrah Phoenix at Monday, November 29, 2004
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