I started writing my book yesterday. The book starts with my childhood and I needed to take a break for a minute to calm the unexpected strong emotional reaction I just had. This book will be good for me - it's going to help me process my previous trauma. Thank you, reader, for allowing me this opportunity to process the feelings that need dealt with to move towards being a healthy person.
I just wrote about the second time my mother left my father. It was a harrowing experience. My father was verbally abusive and also had violent tendencies. After an argument that ended with my mother getting hit in the face with a stick, my mother and I planned our exit which occurred two weeks later. During that time, we secretly planned the day and what each of our roles would be. I was packing what I could ahead of time and hiding the boxes in my closet. Due to the secretive nature of our escape, most of our belongings were thrown into garbage bags at the last minute. That was my job while my mom withdrew a large amount of cash from the bank and rented a Uhaul trailer. We only had a few hours - my father left for work at 7 a.m. and would be home by 3:00. We frantically threw everything into the Uhaul and left only one hour before he got home.
We drove to my aunt's house four hours away in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. We were terrified that he would catch up with us and in a rage run us off the road. After arriving at my aunt's house, he called repeatedly for hours -- he would tell my mom he loved her, come back to me and hang up. My aunt had to finally take over and tell him to stop calling. We were then concerned that he would show up at her house. Luckily, he never chased us down in Latrobe.
Unfortunately, my mom gave in to his pleas and her delusions that things would be different. Eight months later, she went back to him. I didn't want to go back and tried to make arrangements to remain in Latrobe. Since I was a minor, I had no say and my mother insisted I return to Virginia but that's a story for another day.
The main cause of the emotion is the realization that I was given a huge responsibility at such a young age. I was only 15. I had to grow up fast. My mother wasn't there for me and rarely protected me from my father's abusive nature. I only had myself. It explains why I'm so independent and act in spite of fear as an adult. I was also the oldest of three and often unfairly punished for things my younger sister did just because I was the firstborn. I was not allowed to be a child. I always had to be a little adult. I was robbed of the carefree innocence of a child. Ironically, in 2013 when I had a mental breakdown during my divorce with a narcissist, my daughter and I switched roles -- I became the child and she became the adult in the relationship. She was in her 20s at the time but it was still an unfair position to put her in.
Reliving the fear of that day came on strong. It was 40 years ago but it felt like it was in the present. The frantic efforts to get everything done in a few hours followed by the terror of a potential attack on the road and after our arrival has left it's mark. It's the same terror I felt when my ex-husband stalked me. An awful feeling of helplessness. Feeling vulnerable while trying to take your power back is a strange duality.
I don't want to be like my mother, giving people more chances than they deserve. My father clearly showed us for years who he was. He showed us that he was abusive and toxic. In spite of that, my mother put her rose colored glasses of denial on and went right back to what she worked so hard to leave. She spent her life being involved with emotionally unavailable men. Her sense of worth was so low that she must have thought that it was better to have something than nothing. I disagree -- there was one thing that she had but never saw -- herself. She always wanted others to do things for her -- she preferred to act helpless than be self sufficient.
At this point in my life, I would rather be alone than settle for less than I deserve. I will always be able to depend on me. If you show me who you are and that is not in my best interest, I'll walk away. It took me six months too long in my last relationship to see the truth. I didn't want to believe the reality but the day came when I had to accept it. I had to walk in spite of the pain and fear. I had to be my own best friend. Once my Uhaul is packed and I drive away, that's it. There is no looking back.
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