I've been mulling over something that I'd really like to post. I'm not sure where to start or where to go with it though. I am also not sure this story is all mine to tell.
I guess I should start at the beginning. When I was born I was born by c-section. My mother decided she had enough and faked an appendix attack to get me out. She left us when I was somewhere between 6 months and a year old.
After she left my Aunt took care of my brother and I since my Dad was sort of a wreck and completely lost as to what to do. I will always be grateful to my Aunt for that. As well as for telling me how willing she was to keep us. 3 months later she told my Dad that either he had to take us back or we would be hers for good. His choice. He chose to take us back.
My mother was entirely too unstable to take care of us. The one thing I will always be thankful to her for is that she let us go. She never tried to keep us or at any later time get us back.
This is where I'm unsure as to how to continue. Should I speak more about my mother or should I talk about the step-bitch? I don't want this to end up being very long and really they are sort of two seperate stories to tell. I suppose since it starts with her I will continue with her.
My mother remarried and ended up moving to Ontario. I don't remember a lot about her from my childhood other than a caring sort of fuzzy picture of her in my head. When we went to Ontario to visit though the things I remember aren't so fuzzy and some not so caring.
One of my first real memories of visiting is of us fighting and her calling me a little bitch. See we went to a store and I didn't want to go in. Here if we didn't want to go in we could wait in the vehicle. She didn't want me to wait outside. She didn't tell me why at first. She just said no. I argued. She finally said that it was because I might get kidnapped. I didn't understand what was so different there that I could do it at home (and not get kidnapped) but couldn't do it there.
She finally caved and let me stay in the car but scared me so bad about it that when they were out of sight I cowered on the floor. I was afraid to run in after them and I was afraid to sit on the seat where I would be seen. My step dad came back before everyone and sat with me.
When we got back to their house my mother was still mad about it. She ended up yelling at me. I yelled back. I was never one to just take shit from anyone so if I thought it unfair I'd tell you it was unfair. She finally flipped and told me that I was a little bitch and then slammed her bedroom door. I was very very upset. Thankfully my step dad came in and talked to me and made me feel better.
The next memory is of another visit. This memory is of a great visit. Of wanting to live with her. Of feeling like she was my best friend.
She visited here a couple times. We went to Calgary and met my oldest brother. We all had so much fun. She was more like us. Then she went back home. She cheated on my step father. Became an alcoholic. I always felt partially to blame for the drinking. See when she visited we encouraged it. I know I'm not to blame. I just can't help but sometimes feel like if we hadn't encouraged it she wouldn't have changed the way she did....
To be continued.....
I guess I should start at the beginning. When I was born I was born by c-section. My mother decided she had enough and faked an appendix attack to get me out. She left us when I was somewhere between 6 months and a year old.
After she left my Aunt took care of my brother and I since my Dad was sort of a wreck and completely lost as to what to do. I will always be grateful to my Aunt for that. As well as for telling me how willing she was to keep us. 3 months later she told my Dad that either he had to take us back or we would be hers for good. His choice. He chose to take us back.
My mother was entirely too unstable to take care of us. The one thing I will always be thankful to her for is that she let us go. She never tried to keep us or at any later time get us back.
This is where I'm unsure as to how to continue. Should I speak more about my mother or should I talk about the step-bitch? I don't want this to end up being very long and really they are sort of two seperate stories to tell. I suppose since it starts with her I will continue with her.
My mother remarried and ended up moving to Ontario. I don't remember a lot about her from my childhood other than a caring sort of fuzzy picture of her in my head. When we went to Ontario to visit though the things I remember aren't so fuzzy and some not so caring.
One of my first real memories of visiting is of us fighting and her calling me a little bitch. See we went to a store and I didn't want to go in. Here if we didn't want to go in we could wait in the vehicle. She didn't want me to wait outside. She didn't tell me why at first. She just said no. I argued. She finally said that it was because I might get kidnapped. I didn't understand what was so different there that I could do it at home (and not get kidnapped) but couldn't do it there.
She finally caved and let me stay in the car but scared me so bad about it that when they were out of sight I cowered on the floor. I was afraid to run in after them and I was afraid to sit on the seat where I would be seen. My step dad came back before everyone and sat with me.
When we got back to their house my mother was still mad about it. She ended up yelling at me. I yelled back. I was never one to just take shit from anyone so if I thought it unfair I'd tell you it was unfair. She finally flipped and told me that I was a little bitch and then slammed her bedroom door. I was very very upset. Thankfully my step dad came in and talked to me and made me feel better.
The next memory is of another visit. This memory is of a great visit. Of wanting to live with her. Of feeling like she was my best friend.
She visited here a couple times. We went to Calgary and met my oldest brother. We all had so much fun. She was more like us. Then she went back home. She cheated on my step father. Became an alcoholic. I always felt partially to blame for the drinking. See when she visited we encouraged it. I know I'm not to blame. I just can't help but sometimes feel like if we hadn't encouraged it she wouldn't have changed the way she did....
To be continued.....
posted by Danikabur at 7:23 PM
9 Comments:
What a heartbreaking story. You really had a tough time growing up. Funny timing too, I was about to post about my childhood, where I grew up, my abusive father, etc.
You seem pretty well adjusted now despite or possibly because of it all.
My mother left when I was in the 5th grade. Later she married a Frenchman. Once when we were visiting her, she put all of us on the plane back home, but kept my little sister and took her back to France with her. My Dad went to France and got my sister back, but that ended the visits for a while.
I love you Dani. Big hugs to you.
Hey, sweetie -
I can personally attest to how absolutely WONDERFUL you are with children. I've always told you you'd be a fantastic mom. I know you always say 'no - just like to play and give them back when I'm done', but you and I both know you'd be fabulous mother-material, should one ever pop out.
Getting over childhood trauma is one of the most difficult things to do. You are a wonderful, well-adjusted lady, and I have nothing but the utmost respect for you.
xo
Hey there,
Anytime someone posts some serious shit like this, it's important for others to sit up and take notice.
It's tough to talk about stuff like that, so I applaud you for doing so.
Most of us write provacative and funny stuff for attention, but there are times when using this as a medium for serious things that have happened in our life is as important as ANY reason to post anything.
Stay strong, kiddo. To quote a cliche:
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
Oh, and:
"I know God wouldn't give me anything I couldn't handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much." - Mother Teresa
Gordy ~ That is funny timing.. and I do think I'm well adjusted because of it.
Danius~ Yeah I am lucky she let me go rather than trying to hold onto me. I definitely don't wish that I had a different childhood.
Chris ~ That sounds shitty. I'm sorry to hear that.
lawbrat ~ I love you too and *HUGS* back
Motherdear ~ *hugs* thank you. I'm not sure what kind of Mom I'd be but you are right. I wouldn't do the things she did.
Callie ~ Thank you! xo back atcha.
Pizzle ~ I like both of those quotes. Thank you.
PS I hate being called kiddo. :P
It seems we have more in common than we thought. Please, continue. We're listening.
That is shitty. At least you didn't have to be raised by your mother though. That would have been horrible. I wouldn't wish that childhood on anyone, but, am glad you turned it into who you are.
I honestly don't know what she was like as a full time Mom. My little brother (who was raised by her) never complained. However I think he was raised during her 'good times'.
Thank you again. I am also glad I am who I am. :)
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