So the impending death of my grandmother has brought about a lot of other thoughts. Most of them are rather unpleasant. If you have a weak stomach or are prone to feelings of rage, I'd hesitate in continuing to read.
My mother, if you can call her that, is an absolute in the terribleness of humanity. To truly unravel this tale, we will have to start when I was sixteen. Now for most teenagers this was the usual time of zits, break-ups, and worrying about grades.. I was worrying about covering up the bruises left on me from the night before. Mother was the mom everyone wanted, she cooked amazing foods for dinner, cleaned up after us, and made sure we always had what we wanted, until one day it seemed she just snapped. I had attended one of the many punk rock shows that night and was on my way home. My curfew was midnight and I always followed it, but tonight there was more traffic than usual and I didn't make it home till 12:05 at night. Normal circumstances, this shouldn't have been an issue. I came in quietly as not to wake my little sister up. Walked into my bathroom to begin removing my make-up and get ready for bed. I'll never be able to forget what happened next. A hand reached in through the door and grabbed the back of my hair and smashed my face into the adjacent wall. It hurt. Bad. Then the hand drug me by my hair into our kitchen pulled me up to meet its face. It was mother dearest. She proceeded to punch my face till I could feel blood from my lips and nose.
"Why the fuck are you so late?" She yelled.
At this point my dad and sister woke up and came running. My sisters face is burned into my memory. No eleven year old should see things like this.
Dad commanded her to stop what she was doing, and she did. I meekly went to my room. I couldn't even cry the shock of what had just taken place had paralyzed me.
I wish I could say that was where it ended... But it didn't. For the next two years I lived in constant fear that the hand would appear again. And it did. Many times, so many times in fact I began to not feel the blows and would just take it. I became so reclusive all I would do is sit in my room on the floor and stare off into space wondering if the nightmare would end.
Thankfully, my mother shifted her attention from me to men other than my father and finally left us. We all rejoiced in this. We have never looked back.
Naturally, last year I tried to fix things between my mother and I.. Only to be let down, and crushed again, this time emotionally. Needless to say she's been cut from my life. I have a family now, I'll be damned if evil will ever touch it.
I have so many questions that will never be answered. Why would she want to harm something she made. Labored over. I look into my own daughters faces and can't bring myself to even imagine how she could hurt me.
It feels good to exorcise these demons.
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