family
Family can be our support system. Or they can be part of the problem. All about the complicated, loving, and difficult relationship with us and the ones who love us.
Mother to a
There are few people I would wish my relationship with my mother on. She is a strong, courageous, loud, wild, toxic, addictive, impulsive, beautiful, harmful woman. For as long as I can remember, my mom’s heart was hidden behind spirits.Not “Spirits”. A bottle. As she slipped into the dark mental conscious of drunk, she would tell her woeful stories of her life. I would hear her cry at night through the wall. She would scream all the venom of her life into night’s air. My childhood, what I have not blocked out, was a heartstricken one. My mother was often in two minds. She would glow in the day with laugher and prosperous smile. When she had a job, it was often factory work. Boot straps and sweat were nothing to this woman. By night, my mom faded to a tortured soul. My father, before he was absent, was an addict of his own that abused her in unspeakable ways. My mother was a strong woman who fought back. I was taught what not to do in so many ways from her. I learned the signs of toxicity. She lived them so I didn’t have to. Yet, so many toxic injections into my heart were out there through her own needle. I also learned to work at a young age because life wasn’t going to be given to me. Needs were not given freely, and my next meal was earned since I could pick up a broom. By witness, I saw what it meant when you didn’t learn to walk away from a situation that didn’t serve you well. The mental, emotional, and spiritual breakage that occur day by day in negative and harmful environments or people is unparalleled. Worst of all, the most unforgivable violence is that in which we do to ourselves. I was given the freedom to become my own person because there were no bounds in my life. To call myself a rebellious free spirit is an understatement. My mother, above all, taught me that those who are suppose to nurture and love you are sometimes the ones who sink you down the farthest. One moment, she would be the most open ear and softest shoulder, but when I experienced the other side of her, she would use all the words, feelings, and thoughts I had confided in her against me. You cannot truly be wounded by someone you do not love. So, I love, nurture, and honor myself. Truly, forgiveness will always be a personal journey that you have to recognize you deserve, even if the person you are forgiving has done nothing to deserve it. If I were to let all of the painful experiences with my mother weigh on my heart, I would have broken a long time ago. Waiting for someone else to validate your beautiful soul is futile and empty because there is no higher love than the one you have for yourself. For this, I get to be the parent for my daughter that I needed my mother to be. When she speaks of her feelings, I will confront them with validation. When she needs an ear, those thoughts will remain with me alone. I was taught to be a mother, not only because I raised myself and healed my inner child, but because I saw everything I didn’t want to be. All that could possibly be left is what I needed to be for my child. My mother taught me many lessons, though not in the traditional sense. She put me through trials when no crime was committed. My mom taught me how to be a mom.
By Logan Gillaspie5 years ago in Psyche
Fighting for my kids
It started 17 years ago. Around July, when my first baby was about 6 months old, I had enough of my abusive fiance. I planned a trip to go to my family's home for my sister's graduation and birthday party, and to stay there with my baby while he left. It may not have been the most up front way of getting away from him, but I was stuck where I had no family near me and only 1 friend who couldn't take me in. So I did what I had to do to get away.
By Wynette Richardson5 years ago in Psyche
Going “Back Home”
THE STORY I was 40-something. I walked across the threshold of the house I grew up in. It was . . . From the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, who said, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man,” to Bon Jovi, who asked, “Who says you can’t go home?” humanity has ruminated on returning to our childhood homes.
By Donna L. Roberts, PhD (Psych Pstuff)5 years ago in Psyche
It's not too late.
CW: talk of divorce, depression, and suicide. Also bad words. When I was thirteen, my absolute favorite song was “Face Down” by the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. One might ask, and reasonably, what business a child from a decidedly nonviolent background had identifying with a song about a woman’s abusive relationship. There are a few answers to this.
By Savannah Stoehr5 years ago in Psyche
My Mothers Daughter
When I got pregnant with my son at 23, I was living in my own apartment, and my off/on boyfriend of 7 years had his own place, too; we had been out on our own for almost 4 years. I had a steady job; I was just a server, but at the busiest restaurant in town, working full time hours, so the money was great; he had a stable job; we had two cats and a dog already and although I was surprised, I was excited when I got my positive pregnancy test... i loved kids and had never knew much about what I wanted to be in life, the only thing I had always been sure of was that I had always known I wanted to be a mom.
By Mystery Magic Gurl 5 years ago in Psyche
Keeping Faith and Holding Strength
When I was a child, my home was not a happy home. The household that I grew up in was dominated by an abusive father. For 8 years, he terrorized my siblings and I, and kept it a secret from my mother. He tortured her, too, but with the threats of violence and unspeakable harm, she never spoke out. I will not go into details, to spare you all from tears. One day, while they were driving home from school, my sister told my mom the things my father was doing. My mother was horrified, and put a plan into motion to get us out of that situation. It took a great deal of sneaking around and clandestine phone calls. She was never allowed to have friends or to leave the house without my father being present, so the struggle to get us out without him finding out what was happening and punishing us all however he deamed fit, something that still gives me nightmares, became a solo mission that she endured. My mother was able to find help through TESSA, a domestic violence center in the city where I lived. She never had help from any of her peers, and not even her children knew what was going on, because it was too dangerous. About a month after that car ride that my mother and sister shared, my mother picked my siblings and I up from school. We drove right past our house and downtown. We were all confused, and at best hopeful that there would be ice cream involved, because as 6, 8, and 9 year old kids, there was seldom more important than ice cream. But instead, we went to this house with women all over. They all treated us with amazing amounts of kindness and sat us down to talk about our father. We told them stories that made their faces contort in varying degrees of fear and anger. They let us stay there that night, and my mother called the police and started the paperwork for a restraining order and a divorce. My mother stayed strong through all of this, and to this day that is the most impressive show of strength that I have witnessed. It blows my mind that she was not only able to escape that situation, but also to get her three children out, all undercover and without the support of anyone else. She was not held on a pedestal and celebrated as she should have been, however. My mom was always a very religious person. She was very close to God and frequently went to church to find guidance. Staying true to this, we went to church the following Sunday. After mass and the following social interactions that controlled most of the day, we found a priest for my mother to talk to and find advice for what to do next. I expected the priest to hold her on a pedestal and praise her for saving the three of us and herself. Instead, she was met with scrutiny for breaking apart her family and divorcing her husband. After all, according to the bible, that is wrong. The members of the church soon found out and agreed with the priest. Everywhere my mother went to find peace and guidance from life that involved church, she was shunned and met with judgement and shame. SHe did not let that break her faith, however. She kept praying and asking for guidance. A large part of me believes that this tremendous amount of prayer and faith is what helped us to finally rid ourselves of the evil that had held my house for so long. My mother taught me in that period of my life to keep your faith. Be that your faith that things will get better, your faith in your family, or your faith to a higher power, find somewhere to put your faith and never let it waiver. Let it be a post to tie the horse of your will to. And if you bury that post deep enough, your will will never falter, and it will never fail. She also taught me to keep the strength. Stay strong not only to what you believe but to what you know is right. Do not let anything break your strength. You have the power to change your life and to change the lives of the people around you. If you pay enough attention, you may have the strength to save their lives entirely. My mother was and still is a very strong person. At the moment that I am writing this, my grandfather is being taken off of the ventilator that has been keeping him alive for the last few days. My mother is right there, ensuring that his wishes are being followed, even though she disagrees. She knows that that is what he wants, and that that is what needs to be done. I do not have the strength that she does. I am writing because that is the only way I can prevent myself from breaking entirely. Yet she stays strong. She takes control and ensures that everything is right. She prays often and finds guidance. Then she takes that guidance and passes it on. If there is anything that she has taught me in life, it is that there is always a way to be strong and there is always something to put your faith in. Those are lessons that I am lucky to have learned and are going to be guiding me through the entirety of my life. And I know that one thing I can always put my faith in, one thing that will never fail to be a beacon of strength and will, is my mother. And I put my faith in her every day.
By Nicholas Matte5 years ago in Psyche
Trust the night
Going insane is easy, it's the coming back that bites. The floor swirls green and begins to roll, the trees whisper sweetly in bright yellow and gold. They tell of a world as yet untold. You listen with interest, and it’s beautifully sweet. You try to paint it, you can’t. You weep. You must eat the fruits of the earth, but how could you ruin the cycle of rebirth? You'll feel better if you eat, you look dead on your feet. I feel fine, better even, I feel simply divine. Why are the colours leaving the earth?
By Aspen Bogner5 years ago in Psyche
Tony
I stood by the road in shock. We had been trying to stop your dad from drink-driving, but it was too late. He was too far gone for us to stop him from getting in that car. You were determined to follow him, but it's ok, I understand; you were trying to protect your dad. Any caring son would have done that, but I wasn't prepared for the car crash that followed There was a sudden screech off wheel's, followed by a loud crash. I shut my eyes and refused to look, when I opened them again there were police and ambulance services surrounding you. I froze, heartbroken with tears streaming down my face. "How could he do that to his own son?" You would have asked me to forgive him for being an alcoholic, and I'm sorry but I just can't. He destroyed your life, your mum's life and, your ten- year old sisters life, and he left me heartbroken for many long years.
By Carol Ann Townend5 years ago in Psyche
Banshee
Do you know what the most horrible sound in the world is? It is your mother wailing, waking you at five a.m. Snatches of conversation cutting into your room, hacking into your fogged over brain, and forcing you to pay attention to something that you are not ready for.
By Crysta Coburn5 years ago in Psyche
“… but we love you very much.”
You never know if something is good or bad unless you have something to compare it with. Because of that, the truth can easily be manipulated by the people who have authority and power. However, truth has a way of coming out, and when it does, it doesn’t save you from the scars that the lies leave behind.
By gizem atalay5 years ago in Psyche
Hurricane Horizon
Good morning, I begin to say as sweet and quietly as possible to my daughter Constance. She was just waking up from being in a coma for seven months due to her ivy drug usage and being abused physically and mentally by her past relations with men.
By Leah C Hodges5 years ago in Psyche
