Monday, 28 February 2011

I Can't Understand

I didn't really expect to get this serious this early in my blog, but for me, this is a place for me to get all my thoughts and emotions out. Usually I am happier than this, but I'm running on 2 hours sleep in the past 24 hours, and have an 8 hour work day and a gym session to look forward to tonight, and this is just how I feel right now. This is my Stream of Consciousness Sunday Monday.

I couldn't sleep last night.

It started out because I was itchy and couldn't get comfortable, and then my memory did that thing it still sometimes does, where it replays all the crap and I can't seem to make it stop until I'm exhausted and left uncomprehending.

I don't know if I hate my mother. I do know that I hate a LOT of things she did, and allowed to happen. I know I don't love her. I know I don't understand her.

How do you shack up with a druggo when you have a 2 year old and another baby on the way?
How do you stay with him for 6 years, watching him smoke dope in front of the kids, watching him chat up skanks online, watching him waste all that non-existent money we had?

Maybe, mum, you don't know what I remember. But I was 8 by the time you left. I remember all too clearly.
I'm just thankful that my sisters don't. I'm thankful they don't have images of the fat, hairy man walking around naked, or in your lingerie. I'm not really sure what's worse.

Usually I am happy, I've moved on in my life, and most things seem to be falling into place, but sometimes my memory still runs away with me. And I can't love someone who let all that happen to her kids.

I can't

... Time's up.

This is my Stream of Consciousness, and while technically it's Monday for me, the link is still up on Fadra's site. Here's what you do: 
Set a timer for five minutes
Write. Everything that comes to mind, no editing, no proof-reading, just raw writing.
Post it, and add the SOC badge



  1. Now that is a deep, baring 5 minutes. I don't blame you for not being able to love someone that would have no regards for her children. I hope putting this out there will bring you a bit of peace.

  2. Thanks :) I wasn't sure if I wanted this out there just yet ... but I *am* through the worst of the 'getting past it', and I think that makes it easier.

  3. Wow! You are very brave for sharing that. Like "Mommy" said above - I pray it gives you some peace and closure through sharing.

  4. Michelle - I don't know if anyone ever told you this but writing IS therapy. Sometimes, just being able to put on paper (computer) exactly what you have been feeling is just so cathartic.

    A wise woman once said, we have 2 chances at a good parent-child relationship. The first chance is out of our control. The second is up to us. If you have or will have children, you will find that all of these realizations may make you hate your own mother even more for being who she was but it will make you the most incredible mom you could hope to be.

  5. I normally won't comment on someone else's blog with a link back to my own because I think it's tacky. I do, however, think it's particularly relevant here so I'm gonna do it. I've written out my similar experience with my mother here: in a couple of posts and I know how fucking hard it is to hit publish on a post like yours. Kudos to you for posting it.

    Also, Fadra's right. It it so therapuetic. I did years and years and years of actual therapy about my mother and my stepfather and the most cathartic thing I ever did was publishing it for the worldwide web to read, and writing about it during my bachelor's workshops helped a lot too... but not as much as putting it out for the entire world to read. There's something empowering about airing out all that shit we carry around for so many years, and particularly in a case like this when it should be someone else's dirty little secret. There are certainly people who be ashamed of themselves for the story above, but it isn't you. Shame on them. Keeping it in to fester does so much damage and there's no point.

    I can say that from my experience, becoming a mother solidified my hate for my mother. When I saw how tiny and helpless my son was at the same age when my mother did nothing to protect me... I hated her. Then when I used that knowledge to be such a better mother, such a great mother actually, at some point I let it go. I won't say that I forgave her, because I think that takes conscious effort and I didn't... I just released myself from her poisonous hold on my life. She's dead so it was probably easier than it would have been if she was alive, though I never got to confront her so I suppose it comes with its own complications.

    Anyway, point is that you are brave and the web makes the world so much smaller. Where you may have never known anyone who shared your story, you will quickly meet many. It's healthy to share it, air it out, accept if you do or do not hate her as fine either way. You're totally allowed to hate her. If you do, I hope that one day you wake up and can't remember the last time you felt the hatred, like I did, because it's so much easier. Writing it out helps. Don't apologize and do it as much as you need. Bravo.

  6. I too hope writing about your experience brings you some peace... I'm so sorry for what you have been through. sending good thoughts your way.

  7. Wow. I did not expect all this :)
    I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at first, but all these comments put me in a great mood. Thank you. All of you. It's words and thoughts like these that get people through all the crap.