There were many moments in my life when bad things happened.
From molestation and rape to my mother smacking the crap out of me as a teenager and her denying that any of the first two traumatic things happened to me.
I remember this house that my mom’s soon to be husband lived in, a bachelor pad. It was a bitchin’ house…it was big, it had a pool and what would be now called a man cave…complete with a bar and an extra storage room that ended up being mine and my soon to step sister’s bedroom. Life was rad…us girls had their cousin as a baby sitter and we got to walk to the movies, get five cent candy at the store near the dollar movie theater. I bought my first 45’s…Like a Virgin and People are People…had no idea what a virgin was and I guess Depeche Mode was setting me up for what I would agree with in later life.
We (my soon to be step sis’s and I) would pretend that the members of Duran Duran and Depeche Mode were our boyfriends and make out with them in the form of towels folded up to be their bodies. Over sexualized young ladies..indeed, MTV and videos were the thing and my mom had already molded me to know that women were to be hot and ready to trot.
My soon to be step dad had this wall paper in his bedroom. His bedroom was a futon mattress on the floor that my mom would have me nap in…and sleep in til it was time for them to occupy the room…in which I would be moved to a couch. There was a most interesting wall paper in that bedroom…felt on top of gold…and the picture scape had to do with the horoscopes…but intertwined between the titles of horoscopes was a myriad of orgies…men and women sucking and fucking and sticking a receiving tongues and pointers (what I call dicks cause us girls don’t have em and if we did peeing outside wouldn’t be so fuckin messy). I layed on that mattress…looking at the wallpaper…finally possibly wanting to understand the sounds that came from my mothers bedroom prior to this guy.
They married. I was an only child with step sisses…hard to understand, they spent summers with us…and Christmases sometimes too. Also hard to understand was how to be a child to my mother’s husband. He had me sit on his lap. I took it as affection. I never thought anything of it. I never had a dad, he wasn’t able to be and my mom was looking for love in all the wrong places until Rick. I can’t even begin to want to describe the ways in which I did inappropriate behaviors to/with him. I remember my mother coming home and seeing me on his lap, and I knew nothing at the time of how wrong it was.
I remember when I finally realized and decided to admit it to her, in front of him. She sat quietly beside him, as I had to repeat in front of him what I had told her. And then she proceeded to tell me I was a liar. That if I were truthful I would be much more damaged, like her. She then began to admit to abuse that was performed upon her under the eye of her own mother. That I had no idea about true molestation and rape…that she had withstood the true feeling of this violation.
crushed. damaged. denied.
years later after they were going through a divorce, because he had cheated on her, she insisted I needed to go visit with him…he was the only dad figure I’d had and it would be good for me. I was a bit older and when he put the moves on me again I immediately stood up and demanded to be taken home OR ELSE. We were living with my Uncle Tom at the time and when I got “home” he could tell something wasn’t right and I told him which resulted in a restraining order.
fast forward….new husband…new life…wonderful day spent with my cousin Daniel who she forbid to be in her borrowed car (I was visiting) but I forbade her. Got back to her house and decided on a cocktail to end the wonderful day…which led to truth. Yes, he was in the car. No, he did not have illegal substances. Yes, I disobeyed you. But, I needed to be with him and we had a lovely day. Truth serum…Tanqueray…it ends up circa the 80’s and the molestation of the step dad…and she denies ever knowing it. Has no idea it happened. Has no idea that she trumped my trauma with hers….
And this is when the rift got bigger. This is when I realized that I would never suffer as much as her. And now I sit writing this, missing her. Dead since 1999 from cancer, smoked her life away…damn you Marlboro. Its strange, I am normally a wreck this time every year but this time around I am so busy I don’t even realize its snuck up on me.
Many days I want to call my mom. I want to call and cry to her, to tell her how its not fair and that I can’t take it anymore. Something has changed. I am married now and my husband loves me and misses me when we are apart…I am no longer the lonely child. But I’m still recovering…