From a couch
There were many days I sat on the couch telling my life’s
pain to a stranger. I was hoping that she could help me find my way back to
sanity or a moment of gentle peace. Just a time where my mind was not screaming
and I could focus on what was in front of me instead of remembering everything
behind me. I wanted to learn how to live without fear and nightmares. I would
wake up with tears in my eyes and drenched in sweat because I would dream, that
I was back at my father’s home and he beat my mother to death. I was terrified
at this thought. He had hurt her before and he hurt me many times as well. I
would go between wishing that he would die and wishing that he was a better dad.
My heart was conflicted because I wanted to be a daddy’s girl and I wanted this
daddy to leave my world.
I always wondered why he was here with us if he was so
unhappy? Why does he always come back if she is so much better than my mom? I
found myself hating Martha and angry that she was a horrible mistress. She would
call and hang up on us when we answered the phone. We told him that it was her
and he told her to stop hanging up on us. So She did. Then that left us kids to
hear her voice. She was the other woman calling the family home. The lack of
respect to my mother always drove me insane. It made me lose respect for her for
allowing this to go on in her home. But what could she do? He had beat her so
bad once that he put her in the hospital. I had seen him punch her in the face
without a care during an ice storm in 1994. I had seen hell because it was in
my home.
I lost a lot respect
for my mom and dad during those times. I could not understand why she would
allow someone to hurt her but also hurt her children. Why was this okay? I sat
on that couch screaming at her asking her why did you let him do this to me? I
was never protected by my parents and this made me a bitter and hateful person.
My mother continued to listen to me and she could only offer “Zee I just
believed that he was going to change.”
He did not change. He did not want to change for her, for us
and she finally left him on my 15th birthday. Even after she left,
it did not stop him from being a mean spirited person. He would send money to
my mom to buy my younger siblings things and not send me anything. The last
thing my father bought me was a pair of shoes in November of 1995. He did not
attend my high school or college graduation. He did not help with my prom. He
hated me and made sure I knew that by not talking to me and when he did it was
very volatile. In 1997 I had a seizure and my mother called him to let him
know. I was on the second phone in our
apartment praying that he would ask to speak to me and see if I was okay. When she
told him I had been in the hospital his reply was cruel and painful. His words
were “Call me when that bitch is dead.” My heart crumbled like a building being
hit with dynamite. It hurt so bad that I felt the air leave my body and I thought
I was dying. My flesh got hot and I just gently put the phone down. I remember
dropping to my knees praying for peace and love from GOD. Many days my therapist looked at me with
tears in her eyes. I often wondered what she thought of me. Did she think I was
broken, and a lost cause? Did she regret taking me as a client?
For 15 years I told pieces of my story from a couch. The
pain that my soul carried, the wishes my heart held and the love a little girl
craved for. They say a father is the first man in a young girl’s life and he
was very successful at showing me what I did not want in a spouse! When I was
really small my dad was a great dad, and all of a sudden that person became
lost in the midst of an angry unrecognizable person. I cried for the days my
dad would do my hair and take me to school. I prayed for the times my dad would
ride his bike with me. What I did not understand how my father became a
monster.
I am not here to bash my dad or make my mom into this pitiful
victim. I love my dad; I think he is extremely funny nor am I mad at him. I
adore my mom; she loved me. I am just
talking about my life and what occurred in it. What happened to shape me into
the woman that I am today. I could go on and on about how I was abused, how I
was hit in the face or kicked, called a bitch or a whore many times, but that
is not all of my life. Yes! I have had some major sucky parts in my life but
the majority of my life has been pretty regular to awesome. That is what I
focus on. Do I get sad? Sure I do. I miss mom, I wish I would have gone to get
my masters early in life, I wish I could wear a size 8; but hey I have great
girlfriends, an awesome husband and kids. Also, there is still bacon. Yes!!!
Sure I could tell you about all of my pain, anger and
despair but instead I will tell you about the forgiveness. See there was so
much hurt I held onto because it was mine. After being in pain so long, I was
comfortable with being angry. Then again, I also knew that if I did not talk
from that couch; I would continue to be held hostage to my past. I had always
heard of forgiveness but I did not understand it. I did know if there was some
type of process that I could read about.
The things I endured did not break me and the couch did not
cure me. It was a combination of talking about my memories, releasing the pain and
learning how to forgive my mother and father that saved me. I did not do any of
this for them. It does not matter if it helped them or made them feel better. I
needed it for me, for my sanity and my salvation. Forgiveness does not mean
that you forget all the things hurt you, it lets you be able to release those
things from having power over you. You are no longer the puppet to your past.
Your pain stricken heart can learn how to love, and you can feel again.
My mother is no longer here and my father and I talk to each
other. I am not sure how he will feel about me writing things about my life but
that is not my problem to worry about his feelings. See this is my story, this
is my truth and these are my experiences. Just as they help me become who I am
today; maybe it will help someone tomorrow.
I do not need sympathy, or anyone to shed tears. Believe me
I cried enough for me and a hundred others. If you are compelled to do anything,
please send me some golden Oreos, they seem to make all my pain go away and
heal my soul. LOL (ha tear) But seriously, What I want you to know is that if
you survived any abuse or horrible situation you have a greater purpose and the
best is yet to come. Life is about choosing how you will live. Sure it is easy
to harbor pain and be mad. But it is a hell of a job to let it go! But letting
it go is like winning the spiritual lottery and that you can’t beat!
Live, Laugh, Love and Eat
With Love
Sullybug’s Mom
Comments
Post a Comment