Bully

Even though I am of an age that I dare not mention, today I feel like that battered helpless child whose small voice could not be heard. My mother has thrust herself upon me. She has put herself into a rather precarious position, and I in my tights and billowing cape must rush out to save her. Although she is old, she has not changed; her propensity to disrupt and antagonize is as sharp as ever. In the days before her arrival at my house, my head ached and my body felt as if it were on fire inside. It kept me awake at night as I listened to the thunderous snoring of my sleeping husband. When I did sleep it was light, and I awoke groggy and angry. I have made it apparent that I do not want her near me, but she is in need as she always is and since no one else can or will help her, she ignores the signs and elbows her way in, like a thirsty bovine beast shoving its way to the front of the watering hole.


She believes erroneously that the room she stays in when she is here is actually "her room". She has claimed it like the unwavering bully she is, and actually seemed shocked that it was not ready and waiting for her. I will grant her two days. That's more than she ever gave me.


My husband says we will deal with it, but he does not know what I see when I close my eyes at night. She had the nerve to tell me that all she wanted from me as a child was to be a "good girl" and that I was the "greatest kid". In my entire life I had never heard those words uttered about me. I usually heard "slut", "bitch", and "whore", accompanied by a slap, kick, or punch. When did I become the "greatest kid"?


I know one cannot change the past, but the future is a different story. That's why I love my daughter so deeply and fully. When I take her shopping for her new school clothes, it will be just the two of us, and it will be a grand affair. We will shop and eat, and shop and eat till we get tired.
I hope my mother understands that she is only reaping what she has sown. I am not yet capable of forgiving, even though I know it would be healthy for me to do so. In the meantime though, my anger is alive and well. I don't see it dissipating any time soon. Still here.

A Day Late and A Dollar Short

There are many things in my life that I have wished for over the years. Some have been grand and desperately out of reach. Others have been more necessary, a warm hand to hold, the love of a good man. Some things I thought I would never have, and yet came to me unbidden. In some things I have been lucky. I others I have drawn the shortest straw.

Many children, given the opportunity would undoubtedly chose the mother they were given. She makes the best oatmeal cookies, cuts the crust from sandwiches just right, and smells like all good things rolled into one. I would have done nothing of the sort. The mother I was given was none of those things. Her language was course and angry, her temperament distant and cold. She was addicted to gambling and obsessed with the notion that as a young girl, that not only was I sexually active with my father, my brothers or any other male but also that it was her duty to cure me of this ailment by beating it out of me. Although she failed as a mother in all other ways, this was a vocation that suited her well. When she was not destroying my body and psyche, she was attempting to win it big at the OTB. At that, she was a total failure.

Of course nothing was ever her fault. It was others who conspired against her that caused all her failures. I didn't know it then but it was her borderline personality that caused us all so much pain and despair. We have all been injured by her madness, some more than others. We all need help, yet few seek it.

I have been lucky. Surely you have too. I have a warm hand to hold and the love of a really good man. My dreams are bad some nights and others a bit more peaceful. I have memories that will never fall away. There is little I can do about that. I am still lucky. And you can bet on that.

Andy