Mom

  I realize that out of the five little inserts I’ve written about my first few years that they are absurd, politically incorrect and almost unrealistic. As I go thru the chapters of my age that stand out, sadly all these stories are the ones that do.  I, by far, was not a perfect child. I was the baby of the family. I fought hard for attention. We all did. We all were starving for attention.  With my Dad having been a bootlegger and a heavy drinker though, the pressure was really all on my Mother. She worked a full-time job and had all three of us to deal with, on top of avoiding the abuse from my Father.  When I look back at her life. That saddens me the most. I realize with what you have read and thru a lot more stories it’s not going to paint a very pretty picture for my Mom. But believe me, if it wasn’t for my Mom I would not be here writing this story today. She is a survivor and she did what she needed to do in order for her and her three children to survive. It most definitely was not her fault. I still hear her screams and cries from the physical abuse and rapes she received from my Father.  My memories are harsh.  But, I can tell you what it felt like to be a helpless child and hear your Mother scream in pain from being beaten and raped in the next room.  The pain it was to wake up the next morning and see the bruises, cuts, dried blood on my Mother’s lips and nose.  I think to myself as I know what I went through as a child and soon you will know more, lots more about me and my childhood, but I can only imagine the horror for my Mom every day.  But, when I look back at her upbringing with my Great Grandma Ida having to sub as her Mother as she watched all her half-brothers and sisters have the picket fence life growing up. She was tossed to the side by her own Mother and forced to watch “her family” – only be her family on Sunday’s for a few hours a day. I can’t imagine how that feels.  I love my Mom dearly.  She has had a very hard life.  Her kids didn’t turn out perfect either, but you know what, we’re all alive, lots of flaws, but we’re all here.  Thanks Mom. I love you dearly.

Roger

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2 Comments

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2 responses to “Mom

  1. Phyllis

    God bless the survivors…and deal with the victimizers…

  2. Denise

    Hugs, Roger.

    Stories like this make me sad because of the lack of help there was at that time for women to leave abusive marriages.

    My mom wasn’t physically abused, but she was emotionally abused and also had to deal with my father’s alcoholism until she finally left him after 21 years of marriage.

    I too tend to whitewash certain parts of my past, mainly because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. That’s a by-product of growing up in that type of household. As a kid from an abusive home, you just want to make things better.

    Thanks for sharing your story.

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