This is my second post today. I'm not totally certain that it will be my last. I started this blog because the emotions of my life were boiling over. I couldn't handle it. I needed a place to put them. I needed to express them. I needed to validate them by writing them down. My first post was definitely an example of those exploding emotions...raw...out of control....volatile...I hope this post will be a bit more rational.
I grew up in a very dysfunctional home. My father was very abusive to my older brother and older sister....I never realized how horrible and violent he was until I was older.
There is this thing about children....they are born with no expectations. With no knowledge of anything else, they assume everything around them is normal and good. Their naïveté is a blessing to them because not only are they oblivious to how potentially bad their life is, but they are also oblivious to a lot of the bad that happens around them. This is how I grew up....unaware of the evils that took place in my home....and unaware that it didn't have to be that hard.
My older sister has since told me how she begged my mother to leave my father (my sister's step-father) on numerous occasions. I remember having the same discussions with my mother as I got older. I remember things my mother would say and do....the things she would forgive....and I look back now and I sort of hate her for it! She wasn't naïve...she wasn't stupid....she wasn't unaware....she CHOSE to live a life of obliviousness. She CHOSE to ignore behaviors that were damaging to herself, her children, her marriage, and her soul. And she suffered because of it.
When my father finally confessed to discretions that she could not ignore (he had been sleeping with prostitutes), she took on the role of a martyr. Although we were then grown, my sister and I begged her to leave him...to let him wallow in the pit of misery and darkness that he had dug for himself. But she didn't. She stayed.
And then he got sick. He was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease...a neurological disorder which caused him to lose motor function. No one can ask you to leave someone who is suffering a terminal disease.
My father passed away 2 1/2 years ago, now. And I looked at my mother...she is broken. She is broken mentally and emotionally and physically. Years of abuse and neglect have taken its toll on her mind and body, and she is broken. And I swore that I wouldn't be her....that I wouldn't allow a man or anyone else to break me.
I never wanted to turn into my mother.
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