Recently I scanned photos from family photo albums to digitize everything. They were photos from my parents childhoods all the way up to current day. One common theme I noticed was how miserable my mother looked in so many of those photos. What caused that look on her face? What demons was she fighting? What caused her to panic and obsessively worry about everything to the point that she sits around inventing things to worry about, become so bitter and angry to the point that she makes everyone around her miserable often to the point of physical symptoms? What caused all the constant strife and yelling?
When I was in Kindergarten there was one day where the parents were to come and visit the child’s classroom. That day my mom fell walking into the school and broke her arm in two places. It was a serious break. Our next door neighbor came to pick us up at school and took my mom to the hospital. In the car my mom was yelling and screaming. She taught baton twirling and was freaking out that now she wouldn’t be able to work. At one point she turned around, looked at me in the backseat and yelled at her five year old daughter “I hope you’re happy. This is all your fault. If I hadn’t had to come visit your school this never would have happened.” I remember our neighbor looking at her and saying “Betty you can’t talk to her like that. It wasn’t her fault.” It felt like it was my fault.
At the hospital they kept my mom. She had to have surgery and was in the hospital for a week. After the surgery her arm was stiff and required physical therapy. She had a lot of pain for years afterward. She was eventually able to teach again. The neighbor lady and I left the hospital and I stayed at her house until later in the day when my aunt was able to come get me. I spent the next week at my aunt’s house and my dad came to visit every few days. I’m sure it was a nice peaceful vacation for him! It wasn’t for me.
I was miserable. Not because I missed my mom but because of the blame and guilt. Every night in my sleep I would wake up vomiting. Sometimes I wouldn’t even wake up and my aunt or uncle would just hear me. My uncle was afraid I would choke in my sleep from not waking up. My poor aunt had to clean me and the mess up every single night I was there. In the morning she would get me ready for school. We would be ready to head out the door to go to school and I would start vomiting again. I missed school the whole time I was there because this repeated every single night and again in the morning even though she did attempt to get me ready and take me every day. My aunt and uncle were great. My cousin was great. I didn’t mind staying there at all. I didn’t want to go home.
I cried when my dad came to get me. Not because I didn’t miss my dad…I did….but I was afraid of what was waiting for me. When we got home my grandmother was there (dad’s mom). She stayed with us for a few weeks to help out. My dad said it was time to go to the hospital to pick up mom. I ran to my room and hid under the bed. He coaxed me out with a new Tiger Beat magazine with David Cassidy on the cover. At the hospital I held back as they wheeled my mom out. I didn’t go to her but tried to hide behind a plant in the corner. She started freaking out but not for the reasons I was expecting. She was freaking out because I looked so horrible. Apparently I had lost weight and was very pale. She asked what was wrong with me and had I been sick. When my aunt told her all that had gone on during the week mom thought I had been sick because I missed her so much. I guess everybody thought that. She didn’t even know what she had done. She didn’t even know that this was what her five year old daughter was used to…..is still used to…
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I would enjoy going to jail for braking your mother’s other arm!