It can be different things that trigs it, it can be a certain smell, a special quote or even a movie. I’m often reminded of my mother. Why? There are so many reasons, i can come up with many. But I often think about things about her, things I even don’t understand. If I ask her today I just get this vague answer in return, but you can see her eyes nearly travel in her head, looking sideways, remembering. That gets me sometimes “what does she remember? Why does she give me the lies? Why does she wanna hide, when I already know the truth?”
This hurts me true veins and bones. I’m a grown woman, I can tell from right and wrong, I can think out what’s best for me and my own family, I can place food on the table when there has gone a few hours in between the meals. I can shop on my own, I can plan what my daughter needs, and I can see what she needs now in a week or in a month. I follow up in day care for my daughter, I go to the meetings. I take her to birthdays if she’s invited, and I pick her up when it’s done. I do all these mum stuff because it’s needed of me, because it is what I want, it is what my family needs and this is needed from my daughter, she needs to be taken care of. But the mystery in this is, my mum never learned me this, and she never did this to us. She were barely able to take care of her self. She made dinner perhaps twice a week, we were lucky if we got clothes from my grandparents when they came visiting a sunday once in a while every month. We never had our grandparents visiting for a meal, never ever, not even for Christmas.
It gets me all the things she never were capable of doing for me and my brother, and all those times we were left to take care of our selfs. She never followed up on school, the time she followed up was on my first time when I started in 1st grade. I am scolded for the lack of her presence, I only had four years with her. And even today she gives priority to something else, not me and not her grandchild, her only one.
My mother loved us, she did. But she had different love for me and my brother. I was often left “outside” and my mother often took party with my brother. They were strongly connected, it was easily seen, and even felt. I could hear it in my mums tone sometimes. The way she spoke to my brother and the way she threw her attention at me sometimes was really hurtful for an six or seven year old.
I remember one time when I came home late from my grandparents, this was in the end of a weekend. Both my parents were sitting home, drinking in the middle of the day. My mum all of a sudden started calling me a thief and I was again the black ugly bird shoved out in the cold because I wasn’t perfect as my brother. My mother was right about me being a thief, I had been stolen candy from a shop, but got caught on the scene and left the store empty handed, they made sure to yell at me that much that it wasn’t tempting doing that again.
There were always people at the house every weekend when my parents threw a party for all who wanted to come could join in on. I often woke up hearing the music enter through the door to my brother and me. My Brother were gifted and slept heavily but I had to see what was happening. First thing I could smell was smoke and boose, and fresh air. They had the balcony door open. I heard the people talk and laugh, the music were playing pretty loud. I walked out in the living room in my bare feet and my pj’s. I was probably nine years old, and there were this cute young guy. He recently turned 18 and just got his license to drive a car. When I got to know him better I used to snuggle up in his lap and we could talk about everything, while he was sitting in the sofa in our livingroom. My mum and dad were there and some other people too. This guy was handsome and cute, perhaps it was my first crush I had on a guy without even knowing what that was. I sure liked him.
The parties went on every weekend, and sometimes we were gone to others as well. Me and my Brother had to sleep in a bed, a double bed. I felt someone crawl up in bed with us, and I could see in the dark that it was our mum. But of some strange reason I felt she weren’t alone, and it was NOT Dad. She undressed her self and I could see her naked skin through the dark in the bedroom. Then I saw the other person she were with, it was the cute guy I connected with, the one I had a crush on. I remember I laid there pretending I was sleeping, lifting my eyelid just a little bit and I saw him on top of my mother having sexual intercourse with her. As I understood the activity between them my tears fell down my chin, I was heartbroken, I was angry, and stirred up. I was still able to maintain same position and he seemed to be done as he fell off her and laid next to her, after a while they both fell asleep. My first thought then was “where was Dad?” I got up and left the room, walking silently into the living room, and I eventually found him sleeping on the couch. I then understood why mum could do what she did, and she often did that to other guys when Dad felt asleep somewhere. I went back to the bed I also recon I was fully dressed even with my jacket on. I was tired and felt quickly asleep. I woke up next morning realizing my clothes were taken off me. I thought that was my mum helping me out. That day I left that place alone and went to daycare my self. The people working in daycare asked me why I came alone. And they got a strict note about it a few days later. I never told what happen that night or day, I just said they were near, a few blocks away. Which was true.