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Posted by on 2016/05/05 under Uncategorized

I am so angry. I feel it oozing from every pore. Angry that my childhood was stolen, literally. I can’t remember all of my childhood, only bits and pieces. After many years of therapy, I think I may have been going in and out of a fugue state to protect my fragile mind. Some things are clear, like my father molesting me and a stranger catching him. The shame as I stood naked trying to cover myself. The pity in the stranger’s eyes. I think I was about 6 years old. I also remember a pediatrician giving me a pelvic exam. I remember hiding in a hole, a dark place in the basement where there where rats. I remember the violence of the neighborhood where I was raised. The death, drugs, prostitution and noise. So much noise.

But I never talk about it or tell anyone. I have tried but I am always looked at with disbelieving, judging eyes. My father was well-loved by many. My neighborhood, thanks to gentrification, is now a fashionable and even luxurious place to live. I am highly educated, live in the suburbs. I am a mother and an educator. People come to me for advice but I am a different, darker person inside. One that I fear giving any leeway to because of what I might say or do and how it will affect my children.

My father died recently, leaving my mentally ill mother behind for me to take care of. My brother is already planning to move as far away from her as possible. He is used to yelling and intimidating every one to get his way and my mother sees this as strength. I am weak because I care and am emotional. Her mental illness that was once controlled and covered up by my father, is now growing out of control. Outsiders think she is a funny, crazy old lady and she is respected. But to me, she is cruel and manipulative. I say nothing because she pays me for my suffering, by giving the money I need to give my children a better life.I have been so used to abuse that I no longer recognize it and found myself in one abusive relationship to another. I am angry at myself for the situations I have created by being to weak and tired to care.

I am strong in some ways. I have tired to be strong. I basically paid for my higher education and lived on my own as soon as I graduated college. I did not take a penny from my parents for years but people assume I am spoiled. I have even had people say how entitled I am,to my face, when they know nothing. I smile, the kind of smile that never reaches your eyes and say, “Your right, I am so lucky,” while beating them slowing in my mind. I am writing this anonymously to release it. I do not want to dwell in the past. I want a better future. My kids will be starting their own journeys soon. I want to set them free to live their lives and be free to finally live mine.

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