Time Out

Yes, I know. It has been a while. Lately I have been dealing with some mother/daughter issues that many of us face. My beautiful daughter is at that rebellious stage where she wants to pull away and assert her independence. She shudders when I tell her that her stuffed animals want to talk to her and snuggle at night. She reminds me that we did that when she was eight (ten really) and now she is too big for that. She may be but I am not. I knew it was coming, not just this soon.

What she doesn't understand is that I did it for myself as much as I did it for her. Making the animals talk and dance, play and fight! What joy for me and the child inside! I needed to be a mommy. I want to be a mommy. Now I'm just "mom", and that's ok too.

Being a mommy is everything to me, and probably always will be. Yes, I do other things and have many other interests. But being a mommy means that I was needed when there was a tear to be wiped away, or monsters to be shooed out from under the bed. Mommies have magic and can do the most courageous things!

My daughter does remind me however, that "Mom" is still very much needed and constantly in demand. "Mom, can we go pick up my friends, NOW???!!!" "Mom, can you make some brownies???" "I love you, Mom!"

I am the kind of Mom that I wish I had had, but didn't. I am the kind of Mom that my daughter's friends love to be around and because of that my job is never done. Even though I have hung up my Mommy cape and tights, I am not retired. I am on guard, as moms are supposed to be. You know where to find me.

Andy

Phoenix Rising

I truely am grateful for so many things. It was a glorious day, still a bit chilly out but the sun was warm and welcoming. I am tired of the winter and look forward to the coming spring and the hot sticky days of summer. I went about my day, immersed in the details of work...planning, thinking....a productive well-spent day. As I drove home I was wholly contented with the joyous normalacy of my life. A pleasant home, a devoted and caring husband, a beautiful and lovely daughter, a complilation of all good things.

Looking back on the chasm that once was I never saw this coming, but guard my gifts with ferocious intent. It is way too wonderful not to. I look back to see how far I have come. I am a long way from where I used to be. As I nestle next to the wide shoulders of my sleeping husband I am again comforted. A simple pleasure but greatly satisifying. Home is finally a peaceful place.

Andy

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

The Next Step

After I posted my first blog last night, I felt energized, as if I were doing a good thing for myself and all of us.I know it will take some time for you, my sisters and I, to come together, but when we do, we will create a community of sharing and healing. We will know that we are not alone and that the sometimes sinister issues that we continue to battle on a daily basis are not uncommon for the hell that we lived through.

I told you yesterday that I have an 11 year-old daughter. She is at that stage in her life where her friends are the most important thing. Her thumbs cramp up from texting, and no technology is too difficult to master in five minutes. The Jonas Brothers rule; there are dances and parties to attend and sleepovers which always seem to take place at my house. Come Friday at 3:30, I am picking them up and ordering pizzas.They storm my house like soldiers on the beaches of Normandy, eager to continue the dramas that were played out in school today.

I am grateful for her popularity; their laughter as it rains down in thunderous claps. I am happy that she is happy and more importantly, that I can provide that haven for her. I have told her how fortunate she is and I know she understands.

As a child I had no friendds. At school I begged for candy because I had no money to buy any. I dreamed of tall crates of money which I believed would solve my family's problems and perhaps make my mother a nice person. She would not call me a bitch and slut and punch me in my little 6 year old mouth, the salty red blood falling in large drops on the floor.

Tonight I made chocolate chip cookies for my daughter and her friends. The pizza long gone, they grabbed handfuls as they readied themselves to go home. They tell me that I am such an awesome mom, and I am. I really am.

Till later,

Andy

The Bad Beginning

Ok. Here it is. This is for all you women out there like me. Stuck somewhere between 6 and 46. Or anywhere other than here. We are wives and mothers, executives and teachers. We go about our daily lives like everyone else. But we are not everyone else.

I decided to start this blog because I know you are out there. The ones who toss and turn at night because the dreams, memories and flashbacks never really go away. They are always there beneath the surface, ready to interrupt our stability and turn us back into what we were many years ago. As a child I was my mother's whipping post. I don't mean spankings and a slap on the wrist. I mean brutal, near coma beatings that I endured day in and day out from the time I can remember till I fled home at 18. Even after I ran for my life, the abuse continued in ways other than the physical. There was the emotional and mental abuse and I have the scars to prove it.

You see, there is much more to the story than the mere beatings. There was the abject poverty, the constant fear, the knowledge that there was no one to protect me except me, and I didn't know how to do that then. Years have passed and sometimes I am better than others. I have an 11 year-old daughter. As a sweet little baby, I gently rocked her to sleep and sang her songs that I made up myself. Her stuffed animals entertained her with dancing and conversations that came from my mouth but began deep in my soul. She would have a wonderful childhood even if I didn't. She would make it up to me. It was the only gift my mother ever gave me. She taught me what kind of mother NOT to be.

I will return to tell you much more. Perhaps you can tell me about your experiences and we will help each other to be complete.

Bye

Andy