I've been in New Mexico with Paul's family the last week! I did not announce our vacation because I am paranoid about what I say on a public forum, I have been robbed before and couldn't stand to have it happen in my safe little cocoon. We had a great time with Paul's family, his brother Steven married his wife of 5 years Christa in the Catholic Church. Of course Mica found this the perfect time to attack me until I dragged her outside and she called me stupid... repeatedly. I spanked her... repeatedly. She was crying and kicking, screaming for Paul. She was hysterical, and for the rest of the day disregarded my presence. I am so terrified of what will happen as she gets older. Will she hate me? I can't imagine my precious baby girl looking at me with contempt.
As I have shared before my Mom and I did not get along for a very long time. The other day I stood in the shower at Paul's brother's house with the steaming hot water streaming over my shoulders. I absorbed it as I worked the shampoo into my hair, working deep at my roots as I flashed back in a montage to different fights between my mom and I. Her screaming, demanding, me crying, her leaving, everyone blaming me, the irrationality, the constant volatility, begging her not to get the shot for a day... I realized I was furiously scrubbing my head and sharply yanked my hands down to see them covered in broken strands of soapy hair...
Once I came home from school and she was gone. The truck was still parked in the garage, she was barely able to walk so where had she gone? I searched the house in a panic, calling Mom... Mom... Mommy... knowing she couldn't hear me. I looked for a note, some sort of trail. Finally I turned on her relay machine and used the arrows to scroll back and read her last received communication. It was from an ambulance company. I called the ambulance company and hunted her down at a local hospital. I flew down in the truck, certain she was dying, that this was finally it after what I considered then to be a long battle. I got there and it was only the beginning. She had her daily migraine and had called for help since I was not there to take her for a shot. When I asked why she had not let anyone know or left a note, she told me to just get out and leave her alone. I sat in that dirty hallway outside of her room for an hour, until she noticed I was there and again told me to just leave. I have no idea where my Dad was. I was 16. So I left, and went where I wanted, away... I escaped...
but I always came back.
As I have shared before my Mom and I did not get along for a very long time. The other day I stood in the shower at Paul's brother's house with the steaming hot water streaming over my shoulders. I absorbed it as I worked the shampoo into my hair, working deep at my roots as I flashed back in a montage to different fights between my mom and I. Her screaming, demanding, me crying, her leaving, everyone blaming me, the irrationality, the constant volatility, begging her not to get the shot for a day... I realized I was furiously scrubbing my head and sharply yanked my hands down to see them covered in broken strands of soapy hair...
Once I came home from school and she was gone. The truck was still parked in the garage, she was barely able to walk so where had she gone? I searched the house in a panic, calling Mom... Mom... Mommy... knowing she couldn't hear me. I looked for a note, some sort of trail. Finally I turned on her relay machine and used the arrows to scroll back and read her last received communication. It was from an ambulance company. I called the ambulance company and hunted her down at a local hospital. I flew down in the truck, certain she was dying, that this was finally it after what I considered then to be a long battle. I got there and it was only the beginning. She had her daily migraine and had called for help since I was not there to take her for a shot. When I asked why she had not let anyone know or left a note, she told me to just get out and leave her alone. I sat in that dirty hallway outside of her room for an hour, until she noticed I was there and again told me to just leave. I have no idea where my Dad was. I was 16. So I left, and went where I wanted, away... I escaped...
but I always came back.
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