My Mother's Madness - In Short

One of the first things I remember (vivadly) as a child, was the day my sister and I woke my mother from her nap.  I must have been about 6 yrs. old.  My mother, angered and tired, demanded that I retrieve a shoe.  I can still picture my small hands shaking as I clutched that black, pattened leather heel in my hand.  In a matter of moments, my  body was beaten and blistered.  Always on my buttocks and thighs, but it hurt, nonetheless. 
I could be graphic, but my point is not to share the gruesome moments of my childhood in detail --- only to brief you, and help you (and me) rise above those moments -- not envision and repeat them.

I was 12 or so, the next "major" event that I remember.  I had taken a deposit into the bank for my mother and not gotten a deposit slip in return.  (not that I would've known that I should at that time) Upon returning to the car, she slapped me.  Within the ranting and raving I distinctly remember hearing her ask me, "Do you want to die?"  It wouldn't be until a few years ago, but I finally understood that madness.  I hate myself for understanding it -- but I do.

When I was 16, she locked me out of the house for being 3 minutes late.  It didn't matter that I had proof I had been driving all of my drunk friends home -- and I was sober.  It was the midwest, and it was summer.  I don't remember that it was 100 degrees, but it was hot, and I had nowhere to go.  I called my girlfriend's mom, and they agreed to let me stay with them.  I cut through the deadbolt with a hand saw -- yes, it took 3 hours.  Got some of my clothes, and left.  I hated myself for a long time.  I felt like I was lost - abandoned - left to fend for myself.  But, as I know now, it was the first decision I would make that changed my understanding of "love".

I was raped when I was 17.  It was in the newspapers and I allowed the media access to my story.  It was what I wanted to do -- help others not find themselves in the same situation.  My mother (to this day) thought that was the most ludicrous thing I had ever done.  It was an embarassment to her.

When I was 23, I found out I was pregnant.  I struggled with keeping my son, or giving him up for adoption.  I was doing fine, financially -- but emotionally I was a wreck!  I hated who i was, and didn't want to take a child "down" with me.  I ultimately decided to raise my son.  (without his father to this day -- a story for later) 

My son was just over 1 yr old the next time my mother made a huge impact.  He had been hospitalized (at the hospi9tal where my mother worked) in the middle of the night for pneumonia.  I hadn't slept much that night, and was confronted (with my son in my arms) by an angry,  looming figure.  My mother was ranting about how horrible it was that her co-workers knew before she did that my son had been admitted.  She rose and shook her fist in my face.  As I sheltered my son from her threatening advance, I realized that my life - my son's life - was never going to be "normal" as long as I was in the crosshairs. 

Just before my son's 2nd birthday, I moved several thousand miles away from my family and began therapy.
Now, 11 yrs later, and many thoughts of giving up - on myself - I am raising a loving, respectful, beautiful boy into a man.

We struggle - and sometimes it is all my fault.  But most days we are happy and healthy.  I think the greatest story to be told here, is the story of how my son's unconditional love and acceptance keeps me pushing forward.  Granted, it is horrible not having a family.  But we are fortunate to have loving friends that have taken us in.  (and seen the destruction of my family - and helped with the fallout)

My first "true" thought upon blogging was, "Why do I want everyone to know my story?"
My next thought was, "Will it help to get it out?"

I guess I think it will.  I hope you find information that you can use.  I know that I don't have a degree, and I don't have the only angel child out there.  What I do know, is that there have to be others out there that have wondered how and where to start raising a wonderfully adjusted, and well behaved child in the midst of the rubble of your mother's (or father's) madness.  That is what I hope to do -- show you the tricks I have learned, and learn more as we go.