#womenstories

No Strangers

Posted on by ROCK

Will you stand beside me on my last days here; will you lean into my bed and whisper in my ear? All the days I asked for you, to call or write my dears, the letters never came to me and the telephone was clear. I had no busy signals, or something else to do, I only felt in my heart how much I have loved you. I wish you could have been here on the days that I could sing, I wish the phone awakened me with a “just I love you” ring. Before this life is over I long for you to know, we may slip away, but my love will never go.

Some things are worth it ALL!

Posted on by ROCK

NOW vs. THEN. Yeah, so being a kid sucked mostly for LittleMe and yet I loved my parents despite it all. It was engraved into my bones to love, my blood family left a lot of scars but I had no clue how to heal them for decades. These kind of wounds most people would avoid remembering or hide them out of embarrassment, perhaps drink themselves to death over and usually don’t deal with at all. Some self harm, turn to heroin or jumping off buildings, but I am not recommending either as a way to cope. I chose to keep going back to both parents despite my BaDDaD’s very inappropriate behavior and his con man fuck ups and maybe part of me didn’t care how fucked up he was. At some point, I only knew that my half siblings that kept accruing as his wives and mistresses did would also get hurt or scared or discover what I was told not to talk about. Memories like “Don’t mention that I dated the banker!” then elbowed at dinner, taken aside and given the skinny on his latest scheme aka scam aka great, “manic” huge money making plan that was going to unfold soon. Just follow his lead. He still scams, lies and won’t change. He is not a healthy human being to attach oneself to. For years I sat at the table listening to him lie about everything to his current wife or guests and did wonder often, ” how does she not SEE his bat shit crazy lies?!” His wives and mistresses were intelligent people but he was so convincing. He is a sick man and now I pity him. A life built on twigs, just like the children’s story of the three little pigs. His world fell apart often and he always found another woman to take him in. He is nearing 80 and has no idea what TRUTH is. He will never know. He doesn’t care. Regarding MeanMoM, I at some time had to face her in my 20’s and cry and scream out loud, “WHY DID YOU HURT ME?”. And she would also cry and say crappity crap crap words and I would leave again yet she kept coming back to me. No matter how far I went she came to find me. Over and over again. For redemption. She repeatedly asks for me to be “right with her”. I told her I loved her a gazillion times but I still have anxiety when we are together. “Redemption”, exactly the word written to me before she came this visit. She asked to redeem herself with me. I think you need some Jesus for that. I got nothin’. Nevertheless, she is understood on a deeper level by me now. When she hurts, I hurt. When I hurt she hurts kinda thing. I had to move far, far away from both parents of course and eventually chose to avoid phone calls, dance around visiting with them and I was terrified of trusting anyone. I was diagnosed with CPTSD at 52 years old and I find forgiveness is a relief I never thought I’d achieve. I can now see her also a “victim” of her circumstances and even though she breaks my barriers repeatedly I know she never wanted to be a MeanMoM. And that part of her who hurt me is a scar she lives with. One she feels shame for. We should feel shame if we hurt people. That’s the difference between BaDDaD and NOWMOM. She does get the good versus evil concept. A conscious intention of fighting for the Truth, accepting your ugly parts and owning them is not for weak characters. I have ugly parts. I have pain I inflicted on my partner over the years. I have regrets, but mainly I have the sense to know now that I am not a big ball of nothing. I feel. I am blessed with Truth and it comforts me. My father will never want redemption. Only people with authenticity want to come forward and choose the right thing. I don’t feel sorry for me Now. I feel sorry I was unable to begin to help LittleMe heal so late in my journey. I am here for Littleme. I am piecing who we really are back together day by day, in this old, 1780’s farmhouse, within this beautiful yet complex relationship I have made with another human. One who is perplexed by me yet keeps loving me. I still want to run away when I am scared, but somehow, I know I must stay and look into my husband’s eyes and cry. I don’t have to know why I am crying because I am a whole lot of unanswered prayers and his love is so steadfast despite my unraveling from the seams now and then. Good can still be out there for all of us. And inside the darkness remember there is a ray of sunlight under the doorway at the top of the stairs. Keep climbing.

Trapped

Posted on by ROCK

NOW. Exhausted yet awake LittleMe is so sad she can’t shut down her pain. Pain that is tied not only to BaDDad but also to MeanMom. I have worked so hard to make you satisfied with me, grateful for my devotion despite your ugly words, reminders of that harsh leather belt stinging my bare skin, your icy glares of disapproval and my whole world being about you. It had to be. You, too were a narcissist. I understand your childhood was hellish yet why did you take It all out on me, your only child? I remember how everyone loved you, your beauty, charm and wit. No one would believe that you were more like a “Mommy Dearest” behind closed doors. I learned very early on to try and please you and it has followed me all the way through life. I try way too much care too much, love too much and always wonder how normal it might feel to live without this muslin blanket around me that squeezes out every bit of me until I am trapped in my own repetitive way. I turned to spiritual growth as I tried to cut the proverbial cord from you, and truly thought all decent humans want to become morally cognisant, continually bettering one’s behaviors, rough edges, just fucking grow the hell up. But it’s not like that. I have loved atheist and thought they would see that you don’t need the Bible Belt literally to whack you into bettering yourself. One can simply get old and not care or think about the reaper’s shadow. One can hide their entire lives and just get the mail, drink wine and read book after book and never once allow the pit of existence to meet the ID. You wrote a letter to me before you visited seeking redemption, claiming to know why I left you to go live with BaDDaD but you broke us apart. You told me I had done very bad things, made wrong choices and was the cause of your breakdown. I luckily have been using mindfulness techniques and meditation more and handled you gently like you were the broken porcelain doll that dropped from the window sill. I left your bedside quivering and wondering how fast you could snap. I have removed a pawn, retreated, lost in the darkness of youthful anguish and guessing games. I have tried to hold onto you despite your never admitting the depth of abuse you invoked. I had chosen the lesser of two evils long ago and repeatedly I’ve forgiven you. It doesn’t get better despite your efforts because there has always been two moms, maybe more. The mom who gave me lists of chores so long everyday that I couldn’t be a kid and certainly couldn’t do my homework. You invaded my personal boundaries, and still do. You, the mom who was hurried and had no time to listen, the pincher, slapper and owner of such a ferocious temper that it squashed LittleMe down into such fear of you I quit eating, ran away from home and have kept trying to please you out of fear of rejection for fifty nine years. My birthday is in two days. I always imagine how it should be. I wanted you here to feel loved by you, to feel better about us and all I want is for you to go away. I will be tolerant until the end of your stay but this is my home and you can’t stay here again. Ever. You broke my hope. I don’t want you to sing for me when you can’t own the words that burned me. I am growing and see that some of my family here doesn’t “get me” either. I am not the same person as yesterday or the day before. I am holding my boundaries and not afraid to start reliving my life alone now. It is supposed to get better. That has always been my plan. The story unfolds and I am in charge of my ending. I am a powder puff mushroom, you can kick me and watch as I disperse. I will grow back and stronger every single time.

ROCK Smashes SCISSORS

Posted on by ROCK

So the beautiful girl with a reputation of kindness and generosity was entering a classroom in a below ground level stairway located outside the entrance. No one was around. Maybe she was tardy. Regardless, there appeared the boy, whom she had said no to many times and he grabbed her arm and said, “come with me”. She said no, that she had a class and he persisted. She was not one to make a scene and was afraid. He pulled her across an empty lot to the public housing where he lived. His mother was at work and his little sister in school. The beautiful girl struggled and yelled NO and STOP loud enough that a neighbor heard her and looked out and saw him forcing her into his mother’s apartment. The girl was forced to have sex. She didn’t want to and the boy said, “,Now no one will ever want you. You are ruined. You are mine”. Then the boy and girl heard the door open downstairs, it was his mother. He dressed quickly and ran downstairs. His mother said the neighbor called her at work. She asked if it was the beautiful girl who had broken up with him and he said no. He said it was nobody special, he said she was embarrassed and if his mother stepped outside she would go out the back door. The mother obliged but was not happy. The girl crying, dressed and ran back to school never telling anyone anything. She felt dirty, bad, ugly, worthless and no longer like she could have a better life.

The boy possessed her, he lied and made up tales so big that she soon stopped trying to care. She wanted to go to college and had a partial scholarship. His plans decided her fate always. He convinced her to marry him and they drove to a state that would hitch them up. She tried to convince herself it would get better, he promised the world to her and then she got pregnant.