I knew when I started this that it would be a really difficult journey.
So many times I ve thought about it, plugged in the laptop, and just couldn’t bring my self to open another wound while dealing with one right in front of me in real life.
Been sick for a few weeks now, and that delayed another post as well.
But today? I’m here.
Not sure what to talk about, so much I actually don’t know where to start.
I try to keep ideas in my phone. They are the really painful ones, and today, the only thing that comes to mind is my poor excuse of a sister and her mother.
And my joke of what many consider to be family.
Family is not blood.
Family is who stays when everyone else leaves.
Those that called themselves family did little throughout my existence, save for critique, gossip, and precede my arrival with….. ‘i ll apologize for her now, she’s a bit much. just take her with a grain of salt’.
‘I had to call my sister so we could figure out how to deal with you.’
‘Stay and play in your sandbox princess’.
Fuck you.
Every single one of you.
Especially the one that dared to call herself that most precious word.
‘Mother’
One at a time I guess.
I’ll save dad for last.
He doesn’t get that title.
He got the same treatment I did, until it was near the end and they saw they could get what they thought they were owed by him.
Fucking disgusting.
Get ready to get embarrassed. I hold nothing back.
And of course, I will be the dramatic one, making more of it than it was, ‘it wasn’t like that’….. sighs and rolls eyes… oh Tonya….
Fuck you.
I found out about how you got into your dads house and stuff went missing before he even died.
You told me how when his stuff was being distributed amongst the siblings if you cried, you knew they would give it to you.
I have learned through research that if you encounter a narcissist as a child, you search them out unknowingly as an adult.
I have also learned that you were my narcissist. yes, you. THe one that dared to call herself ‘mother’
Know how I figured that out?
You selectively don’t remember a single fucking thing you did to me that I will never forget.
I can remember them in colour.
Standing outside in my bare feet on the mat outside that felt like horse hair but was full of ice, so that I might remember to switch to my winter boots before catching the bus home in the afternoon, I remember you shutting the door, and watching me through the window, while I cried and begged to be let back in.
You didn’t remember that.
Every Saturday it was my job to dust the living room. When you would go and check my work, i could hear you mutter, ‘I don’t know why I bother to get you to even try, I just end up doing it myself again anyways’.
You don’t remember.
siblings could do no wrong, and I could do no right.
You don’t remember.
Most enightening day of my life?
I kept getting sent to school, despite being bullied and beat up.\
Just ignore them.
If they hit you, hit them back.
And then Martha came to see you.
She was genuinely concerned to know how life had been treating me.
I listened while Martha detailed how all of the staff of that elementary school knew about the abuse I was suffering. How they were trying within their means to make sure I was safe, and I was completely blown away. i had had no idea that so many people were looking out for me.
Your response?
‘Really? I don’t remember any of that.’
I spoke about it like i was discussing a book I had read last week.
You claimed zero recollection of my years of abuse.
There was a reason I asked you if I was adopted when I was 8.
You never loved me.
You were jealous of me.
My father spent more time with me than he did with you.
You said that if I cried I could get anything out if him I wanted. You said he was wrapped around my little finger.
That’s the way it should be if you have kids.
That’s the way it is with me and my kids.
Thats the way it si with the siblings.
They got your attention.
They got your love and understanding.
You mad excuses for them.