Thirty-three years ago
Thirty-three years ago my mother did one of the few things I will always thank her for - she got me, my brother, and herself out of a very violent situation.
At the time, she was married to her second husband and until this day thirty-three years ago we'd all been living under the same roof. Oh, we weren't supposed to be but my mother really doesn't know how to live without a man in her life.
Several months earlier, this individual had been removed from our home by the police and sent to Riverview Hospital in BC (now closed) for psychiatric evaluation. Why? Well, when my mother had arrived home from work one night it was to this, well, Abomination saying that he had killed me and my brother. Obviously, he hadn't, but he kept repeating it, even as my mother ran up the stairs to find out for herself if we were alive or not. Once she was sure that we were okay she called the cops and they came to take the Abomination away.
He'd had a psychotic break of some sort, although I wonder if there was anything else at play during all of this. He was a very violent and abusive person who showed absolutely no remorse for anything he'd ever done to us. Oh, don't get me wrong, he'd go through the whole cycle of abuse/feigned regret thing where he'd beat me to a pulp in a mindless rage and then show he was supposedly sorry by buying me something. And he had long told everybody not to believe anything I said because I was nothing but a liar...it was a means to protect himself should I ever open my mouth about what he was doing to me.
So, after years of living through horrific abuse it felt as if things were finally going to get better. Until my mother invited him to move back in with us. Against the advice of the police and my counselor. Actually, it was more of a case - especially after the Abomination was officially diagnosed as an alcoholic psychotic with violent tendencies - that he was ABSOLUTELY NOT to live with us again. But my mother just couldn't handle being alone. Or something else equally as fucked up.
What finally brought her to her senses enough to pack us up to leave? Well, my counselor had started the process of having my brother and I legally removed from the home and out of her care, and gave her a final warning: either remove the kids from the situation or the court would do it for her. He even gave her a deadline - January 3, 1986. It was January 2, 1986 that she managed to get my brother and I out of the house at the same time, and then it was straight to my counselor's office to figure out what to do from there.
From there we ended up in a shelter for battered women and their children, and a month later we were living a city away from where we started. I'm not going to say that things were necessarily better because they weren't. My mother was abusive too and stepped up her abuse after we'd gotten settled into our new place. But she wasn't as strong as the Abomination so I never had to fear that I'd die at her hands, so there was that, at least.
In the thirty-three years since we left, I have learned a great many things about life in general. One of which is that my mother is a toxic narcissistic bitch who usually puts her own so-called happiness before that of any of her kids. I used to think that she at least valued my brother, but after how she responded when he told her he was getting married to his partner - "So, which of you is going to be the wife?" - it was pretty clear that even my brother was no longer as important to her as she maintained for years. Especially as she hasn't contacted him since, not even to congratulate him on his marriage. Y'see, it took the center of attention away from her and she can't handle that even for a second.
I still have deep emotional scars that affect me to this day, but leaving that situation was what taught me that nobody has to stay in a relationship that is at all toxic - emotional, physical, sexual, etc. And once that particular lesson sunk in I had the strength to sever the toxic relationship with my mother, once and for all. Oh, we still talk, sort of, but I don't trust her so she gets pretty much no information out of me and never will again because she will only twist it to suit her needs and desires to make me look like I'm a horrible daughter. Whatever.
I am still working on my own healing, and each day I get a little better. I have a strong, positive relationship with my own kid, and that is what matters the most to me.
At the time, she was married to her second husband and until this day thirty-three years ago we'd all been living under the same roof. Oh, we weren't supposed to be but my mother really doesn't know how to live without a man in her life.
Several months earlier, this individual had been removed from our home by the police and sent to Riverview Hospital in BC (now closed) for psychiatric evaluation. Why? Well, when my mother had arrived home from work one night it was to this, well, Abomination saying that he had killed me and my brother. Obviously, he hadn't, but he kept repeating it, even as my mother ran up the stairs to find out for herself if we were alive or not. Once she was sure that we were okay she called the cops and they came to take the Abomination away.
He'd had a psychotic break of some sort, although I wonder if there was anything else at play during all of this. He was a very violent and abusive person who showed absolutely no remorse for anything he'd ever done to us. Oh, don't get me wrong, he'd go through the whole cycle of abuse/feigned regret thing where he'd beat me to a pulp in a mindless rage and then show he was supposedly sorry by buying me something. And he had long told everybody not to believe anything I said because I was nothing but a liar...it was a means to protect himself should I ever open my mouth about what he was doing to me.
So, after years of living through horrific abuse it felt as if things were finally going to get better. Until my mother invited him to move back in with us. Against the advice of the police and my counselor. Actually, it was more of a case - especially after the Abomination was officially diagnosed as an alcoholic psychotic with violent tendencies - that he was ABSOLUTELY NOT to live with us again. But my mother just couldn't handle being alone. Or something else equally as fucked up.
What finally brought her to her senses enough to pack us up to leave? Well, my counselor had started the process of having my brother and I legally removed from the home and out of her care, and gave her a final warning: either remove the kids from the situation or the court would do it for her. He even gave her a deadline - January 3, 1986. It was January 2, 1986 that she managed to get my brother and I out of the house at the same time, and then it was straight to my counselor's office to figure out what to do from there.
From there we ended up in a shelter for battered women and their children, and a month later we were living a city away from where we started. I'm not going to say that things were necessarily better because they weren't. My mother was abusive too and stepped up her abuse after we'd gotten settled into our new place. But she wasn't as strong as the Abomination so I never had to fear that I'd die at her hands, so there was that, at least.
In the thirty-three years since we left, I have learned a great many things about life in general. One of which is that my mother is a toxic narcissistic bitch who usually puts her own so-called happiness before that of any of her kids. I used to think that she at least valued my brother, but after how she responded when he told her he was getting married to his partner - "So, which of you is going to be the wife?" - it was pretty clear that even my brother was no longer as important to her as she maintained for years. Especially as she hasn't contacted him since, not even to congratulate him on his marriage. Y'see, it took the center of attention away from her and she can't handle that even for a second.
I still have deep emotional scars that affect me to this day, but leaving that situation was what taught me that nobody has to stay in a relationship that is at all toxic - emotional, physical, sexual, etc. And once that particular lesson sunk in I had the strength to sever the toxic relationship with my mother, once and for all. Oh, we still talk, sort of, but I don't trust her so she gets pretty much no information out of me and never will again because she will only twist it to suit her needs and desires to make me look like I'm a horrible daughter. Whatever.
I am still working on my own healing, and each day I get a little better. I have a strong, positive relationship with my own kid, and that is what matters the most to me.
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