I titled this one raw because it will be my most open and honest moments with these next sets of posts. I think it would take me days to write everything I want to about this next subject, and I know most people, including myself, do not want to read for hours on a blog.
I have a blessed life. I love my husband and my five sons. I have talked about my love for my Father, physical and spiritual ones, but I do not talk about my mother. I would really love to find somebody in this world that could actually help me, or people like me. Help me understand how a woman who carries a baby in her womb and to all outsiders, is a normal woman with a normal family, could be so cold; so manipulative; so selfish; so ungodly. I am always clear about how imperfect I am and can be. We are all a work in progress. I am not talking about that. I am talking about a mother who chooses herself consistently over anybody else. I haven’t really spoken to this woman in more than six years. I don’t have a mother anymore; not in the way most people do. My parents are still married; I won’t say happily, but they still are. I see people every day fooled into thinking this woman is simply wonderful. My mother is a woman who loses family and friends on a constant basis. She uses people to fulfill her needs and wants and once they realize inside of her is a mean-spirited, cold-hearted, bitter woman, they try to escape the relationship; only to have her attempt to destroy their character, their lives, and their confidence.
When I was a little girl, I thought my mom was the most amazing woman in the world. She tried to keep me safe and would always be sure to let me know if I was ever naughty, just how disappointed she was in me as a daughter. I worked hard every single day to prove to my mom that I would and could be worthy of her praises and love. I lived in a bubble. I literally lived far away from most people on a farm. I had some cousins on my Dad’s side that lived nearby and boy did I love those summers when there would be a family reunion and I could escape from the clutches of her control for but a moment in time. I never knew what life was like outside of my world. I never knew that different family members tried to pull me and my brother away from her clutches, only to have her treat us worse.
As I grew older and as every child does, I made my attempts at individuality and independence. I was learning to have my own fashion sense and likes and dislikes. Looking back, I can see that is where the majority of the competitiveness and hatred started. That is where the control became the worst. That is where the lies became more and more astounding. Of course I did not know this at the time. I didn’t learn until my 20s and early 30s that most of the things my mother told me, were complete lies. In order to get me to do what she wanted, she would lie to me and my punishments were always embarrassments. I was punished one summer by her not allowing me to shave all summer and she drove me into town every day to go swimming. I love swimming; even to this day I love to swim. She knew that. I remember if I was out of the water I always wrapped a towel around my legs. I had a cousin that was at least half a foot shorter than me and for some reason my mom took clothes that she offered and forced me to wear them in high school. This cousin is about 7 years or so older than me, so the clothes were old and super short. I remember being teased so much and going home and begging my mom to let me get my own clothes. She had a chart up on my closet door that told me what I had to wear each day of the week. I remember finally one day my Dad took notice of what I was wearing and asked why I was wearing such ugly ill-fitting clothes and I told him how mom was making me and how she had the list on my closet door. I was surprised when I went back to my room and the list taped to my closet door had mysteriously disappeared and my mom swore I was lying. I should have waken up then, but I still was convinced that my mom only wanted the best for me. She would constantly tell me how my friends would tell her that my hair always looked dumb and how pretty and cool they all thought she was. I remember one time much later actually asking my friends about the things she would tell me and they were shocked and let me know how they all thought she was so bizarre and not cool.
Not only were the lies about me and my friends, I am sad to this day to think that I believed all the lies about my own Father. I believed he was abusive even though I never saw bruises, never saw anything more than yelling matches between then. I was told that my own Father was abusive in every way and that he was constantly having affairs. I was taught to think my Dad was a horrible person. I remember so many time thinking that things just didn’t add up. I remember my Dad always being kind and loving and telling me every day how much he loved me. I remember him working so hard at two full time jobs to make ends meet and wonder where he found the time to do all this terrible stuff. My mother told me that if he was ever nice to me, it was only because he was mad at her and that he never actually wanted me.
Probably the biggest and more horrible lie told to me that turned my life around, was when I was married and had my first son. He was literally weeks old and was my husband’s and my pride and joy. He was the first grand child for my parents and his parents. I went back to my parents for a couple of days to visit and my mom began to talk to me about how when my brother was a baby, my dad molested him. I was utterly shocked. I freaked out. I literally freaked out. I had just had a son and my Dad was upstairs sleeping. I began to tell my mom how I was never going to allow my Dad to be around my baby or any other children; how he would never get to be involved in their lives. Then logic set in and I began to ask questions. Up to this point, my mother was calmly sitting there letting me know I was doing the right thing not allowing my Dad to be a part of our lives. I asked her how in the world she could be with a man who could molest a child. I asked her why this was the first I have ever heard this and what she every did to protect me or my brother. I then began to realize I wanted to confront my Dad and find out all this stuff for myself. This would be where my mother began to freak out. She was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. She was pretty much hyperventilating and probably having a panic attack when I look back on it. After trying to calm her down she actually admitted that she made the whole thing up. She then made me promise to never tell my Dad.
That was my wake up call. That is where things began to completely deteriorate. There wasn’t much there to begin with, but after realizing that my own mother was jealous of me and her own grandson, I couldn’t believe it. I would still have trouble believing it had I not actually lived it.
This is where I stop for now. I will have to continue later. I would really love to find out how many other woman and possibly men are out there that have gone through similar circumstances. I know to some this may seem bizarre or unreal, but believe me, it is so real! I know that it isn’t her that is doing this stuff. It is what is inside of her; the hurts, bitterness, demonic presence etc etc.
Until next time…..