My parents were once married, not happily but married. They were both enlisted in the Unite.d S.tates Arm.y, to which the reason I was born in Fort Ord, California. I stayed for awhile, me and my mother while my father was off in Korea humping his latest conquest. Eventually, I got sent to my grandparents in Cleveland, Ohio while my mother was still in Cali tying up some paperwork so that she could come back. With my grandparents as my custodial guardians, they did everything birth parents did. From packing my lunches for school, to beating me down when I acted up. Even though I rarely acted up, I guess being the product of noncivilian parents.. I rarely did anything and was much to scared about what would happen if they found out. My father eventually got out of the military after only 5 years and he moved to Waynesboro, WV. My mom ended going from active duty, to Reserve, which is just like the commercial.. 1 weekend a month and a 2-week tour once a year. Life with a single mother had it's rough times and it's good times. I was highly spoiled, and never wanted for anything. I eventually went to Catholic School in 5th grade with no help from my father. My father had his own life, and later to be found out by me, another daughter. My mother worked for the government as well as the county. She worked long, hard hours and I was used to her working 3rd shift with me being transported to my grandparents house at the crack of dawn.
Before we were inseparable, I loved my mother so much. Where ever she went, I went.. people called me, her shadow. She bragged about how much I was involved in school, what honor roll certificate I brought home, my report cards.. you see.. I was a straight A student. Major work courses and reading was nothing to me. Actually, I rather enjoyed it. My mother got pregnant when I was 15 years old, birthing my baby brother, whom I love like my own. My mother was and still is battling with alcoholism. The normal ritual of my years of living with her and my brother consisted of:
* coming home from school and watching my brother, while my mother laid passed out in a pool of her own spit.
*changing the baby, giving him baths, feeding him, playing with him, caring for him while my mother was nursing a 40 ounce of beer and holding onto a 5th of jack daniels.
*cooking my own dinner, and getting the baby ready for his nap.
* my mother sobering up to go to work, leaving for her 3rd shift job.
* me being on night duty with the baby, waking up for feedings and changings
*my mother coming home around 6 a.m. while I woke up to get ready for school
*kissing the baby before I ran out of the house to catch the bus to school
Some ritual huh? In between my mother's alcoholism, she rarely paid me any attention. I got called random names of.. bitch, slut, ho, tramp, slut, stupid, dumb. I got picked on. My mother told me how much she hated me and was happy that she had another child. A child to replace me. I went to school.. glad to be away, away from the abuse. I went to school scared to tell anyone of how my mother was treating me. Mental, verbal, physical abuse.. the only one I could tell was my grandmother. You see, my grandmother is a religious woman.. and I would make her promise not to tell anytone. She never did. She listened, with words of comfort, words from her heart, words of love. Often giving me biblical passages to read.. but after awhile I got tired of praying and begging for help. I felt this was my punishment... I felt not loved by my father, my mother and worse of all.. God. For lack of a better phrase.. I lost my Faith.
I didn't want my grandmother telling my mother anything because she would hurt me if I told anyone. In between the drinking, she found comfort in different men. Different men that would come to the house and live with us. She had a thing for jamaican men.. and not just any jamaican man.. but the druglords. For some reason.. she loved them, not just the love she received from them but the wealth they brought with them. She would often buy their airline ticket to Jam.aica.. they would fly back with weight and she would chop, de-seed, and weigh it in the living room while she was holding a conversation with me. My mom ended up being a single mom that was in the military, worked for the county and a drugdealer. I was exposed to so much that alot I have forcefully blocked out of my mind.. things that a child should not go through whatsoever.
Teachers and counselors didn't know I had a mother. She never attended any meetings and never responded to letters. My grandparents bought all of my school things before I had my first job. My mother didn't see the need to buy me anything. I later got my first job as a hostess at age 16. I was a hostess at the Clevela.nd Indi.an's restaurant. A high-class membership restaurant, but it was my life. I was able to go to school then go to work and could be away from my mother for hours upon hours.
At 16, I finally went to my grandfather and begged him to help me move.. begged for him to get me out of her house. I was mentally drained, physically tired and had I tried to leave myself.. she would have probably beat me senseless. So my grandfather had me sneak my clothes and things into garbage bags, and he would move the bags to his house. This went on for months.. until I was 17. It was a March. My grandfather came over to speak with my mother.. and told her he knew how she was treating me. He said that he came to get me. My mother started screaming and saying I was lying.. I was nothing but a liar and a horrible child. My grandfather just looked at her and told her she needed help. He grabbed me by my hands and led me to the door. I looked back and finally saw my mother for what she was. She was a shell of a woman.. with tears in her eyes. She was hateful and dispicable.. but I still loved her. I looked back at her.. and when she fixed her lips to speak. I waited for what she had to say. I waited for her to hold her arms out and embrace me, tell me she was sorry for everything. Tell me she loved me so much.
I waited...
she's physically in cleveland. emotionally in virginia. short female. 26 years old. nonchalant at times. sassy. smart-mouthed. always laughing. breathes music. single by default. workaholic by choice. an aquarius.. enough said. yes this is Her Story.
From: Cleveland, Ohio
About me: she's physically in cleveland. emotionally in virginia. short female. 26 years old. nonchalant at times. sassy. smart-mouthed. always laughing. breathes music. single by default. workaholic by choice. an aquarius.. enough said. yes this is Her Story.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
posted by thee modern isis at 9:31 AM
10 Comments:
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Post a CommentAt 8/24/2006 5:50 PM, 
Blu Jewel
OMG! This post brought tears to my eyes and ache in my heart. Sweety, I feel so sad that you've had to endure all of this pain. Fortunately, you have kind and loving GPs to help you, but I'm sure it didn't erase the pain entirely. I'm proud of you (though I don't know you) for your strength and courage to stay strong and do well in school. And bless your beautiful heart for caring for your little brother. You know he will be eternally grateful for your love and kindness.
I could go on and on, but I won't. Just hang in there and continue to do something fabulous with your life.
At 8/25/2006 8:27 AM, thee modern isis
@ BluJewel- I thank you for your kind words. It took a long time for me to realize that sometimes you must weather the storm .. I learned from everything I've been through and though it has caused problems in my life.. I realized also that it has made me a very strong woman.
@ T Cas- I have empathy for anyone that's been through similar situations. Grandma's are powerful and wise among their ages.
@ Mistress- My brother is my life.. I treat him as if he was my child.. even now. He's going to have some situations of his own.. but I'm trying to be that person he can look to for encouragement.
At 8/25/2006 8:55 AM, thee modern isis
@ Nikki- Thank you.. it takes alot to discuss. Even if I was to speak about it now, I would burst into tears. It's hard to want to be loved by someone, especially a mother. It took years for me to let go... and let God. I've worried myself senseless when I was in college, and it only hrut me in the end. I had to let go.
At 8/27/2006 12:25 AM, TrinaBeingTrina
That is such a sad story, and what's even sadder is that it is so common. It always breaks my heart to hear about innocent children who never asked to be brought into this world and are treated so horrible by the very same people who brought them hear.
They say time heals all wounds and I'm sure you are getting stronger everyday!
At 8/28/2006 11:31 PM, Tenacious
@ Isis
1. we're not even going to get on the bad kisser...LOL...I still have flash backs of that wet mouth coming at me...shit that shit is like Freddy Kruger...a nightmare on Paulina street *lol*
2.*sigh* My cousin, what can I say about her. I blame her but I also blame my aunt, if she would put down the crown and see what she's doing to her daughters...I wish they were strong like you.
At 8/29/2006 11:23 AM, Tenacious
@ Isis
LOL I know right, I watch a little too much CSI and L&O, they're not gonna drag me from my job talking about first degree murder...I am too pretty for jail...
And girl your posts are more hilarious than mine so I KNOW I'm going to be rollin'....type away my chile
And did I not mention I talk too much in real life...and it translates over to the blog....lol
At 8/29/2006 5:12 PM, layne bowden
Wow. This entry made me speechless. And even as I type this I'm thinking about how crazy strong you must be for one so young! Damn.
Thank you for sharing this. I was going to reply to your newest post; however, I wasn't sure which one you'd end up keeping since it's there 3 times. I know. Blogger has been actin' like a bitch today!! Uuuggghhh! (LOL)
Thank you for visiting my spot! I hope you'll come back often!
Today, Be... forgiving. Peace.