No Mother of Mine Part 1

When you think of a mother, you think of a woman who is a caring, devoted, protective individual, right? Someone who would do anything for you, like a true selfless goddess, right?

That's what I thought I had in my mother...

Turns out, I was wrong. So wrong.

Let me take you way back for a minute.

The Perfect Mother

Imagine being a young child so engulfed in the way you think you're being loved that you're oblivious to the abuse that you're being subjected to.

This was my life from the age of 7, right around the time my cognitive development was forming. I noticed mom had a lot of different people around me and my sister. She worked at a bar and there was really no end to the kind of behaviors she would allow around us. Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging her for doing what she felt she had to to support herself and two young kids on her own but there has to be a line drawn when you're coming in from work smashed and can't remember the people you bring home with your kids around.

That was a lesson right there for me but I didn't know it then. Mom was so comfortable with complete strangers being around her "babies."

Mom grew up in group homes and under the care of family I'll never meet. She grew up with a ton of resentment for her mother and in turn she lived that out for years.

You can tell she tried to be the best mother to us at first but it was all to spite the fact she never felt she had a mother in her own mother.

I'm writing all this out for you all but also so I can try to understand where everything went wrong.

See, my mother and I used to have an unbreakable bond. Literal besties. I could tell her anything about anyone and I knew she'd have my back.

That all changed in 1997. Yeah. 21 years ago. Sometimes when I think about this shit it seems like it was only yesterday. It's only when I vocalize it that I realize it's been 21 whole years.

The Day He Walked In...

I remember the day he walked into our lives like it was yesterday.

We lived in a huge five bedroom apartment with family and it seemed like the life! Mom had two jobs, as always, and many different boyfriends. They were all physically abusive to her. All. Of. Them. My sister and I witnessed our mom in her tiny 5'3" 115 pound stature take on some champs. Real beasts.

When he walked into our lives, of course it was different. It usually is at first. He moved us out of that house that we shared with family and we lived (semi luxuriously).

See, he dealt drugs and could afford us that kind of life. To Mom, he was a godsend. She wouldn't have to work two jobs just to get by anymore.

Right away I knew I didn't like him. I didn't like any of them honestly but he was sticking around and I really didn't like that. Mom would tell me that I didn't have to like him but I would respect because he's taking care of us even though we aren't his kids.

Greaaatttt, now I owe this man a debt simply because he chose my mom.

Never in my life could I imagine how I'd pay back the debt, though...

The Creepy Shadows

I remember the first time it happened. I got in trouble at school and had to stay home a few days. Mom was pregnant by this time and let him convince her that I needed to go to work with him as punishment.

He worked in a facility where they created propellers for boats. It was dark and scary and he wanted to be the first one there. If I was older, I would have known it was a bad idea.

Here I am almost 9-years-old and no clue that I'm about to embark on a long, metamorphic experience with sexual abuse.

Part 2 coming soon.