My Morning Mourning
Do you know what plays on my mind a lot? Our first vacation together. I remember the overwhelming anxiety & fear I had for months before the vacation. Being able to pay for some of my mom’s vacation was a huge deal to me. I always went on summer vacations with my dad and his wife & my younger sisters. However, I never went anywhere, but Ocean City, with my mom. For months, I had nightmares and terrible thoughts. They were all based in the fear that either myself or my mom were not going to be alive for the vacation once it finally arrived. I wanted a vacation with my mom SO bad, that I was so fearful that I would die before it ever happened. I remember getting some energy work (Reiki) done to try to clear my mind. As soon as it began, I cried the entire time. I felt like the fear was finally slowly releasing from my body and I could embark on this wonderful experience with a clear mind and joyous heart. Let’s rewind a bit. The cruise was a Christmas gift I paid for. It was for myself, my boyfriend, my mother, and her husband. Her husband has been in my life since I was a baby. I always grew up knowing I had four parents. Four adults that provide love and support to my life. Things started to get confusing when my father’s wife started to have abusive episodes, specifically to me. They were always when my dad was not around. Things were even more confusing when I would inform my dad and nothing would really be done. That led me to looking at my trips to my mom’s (every other weekend), as my safe place. I looked forward to those four days every single month. For many of my adolescent years, I remember feeling more safety with my mom and her husband than with my father and his wife. Then, puberty came and things started to quickly change. At this time, my stepsister no longer was joining for the every other weekend visits. So, it was just me, my mother and her husband. I remember starting to feel more lonely at my mom’s. Things were monotonous. The life in the rural town of Hurlock was too slow paced for me. I would always borrow my mom’s cell phone at night, as she ALWAYS fell asleep early. I’d use her phone to call my friends from home or boys that I liked back home. One of those boys always answered and always stayed on the phone for as long as I wanted. He became my first boyfriend. Those calls started to become my safe space while I was at my mom’s. When my mom would go to bed, her husband would creep into my room and lay on the floor of my room. He’d stare at me for hours, smiling in a way that always made me uncomfortable. He would fondle himself and I would be stuck, as frozen as possible, on my bunk bed. I would just beg my boyfriend to stay on the phone with me through those times because if he ever tried to touch me, I needed for someone to know. It got worst. He started to try to open the bathroom door when I showered and say things like “you don’t have to lock the door when you are in the bathroom”. I’d always argue back and persistently lock it. I remember the time, he came into my room during daylight (which was unusual). He had $100 in his hand and a smile on his face. He sat on my bed and told me he would give me the $100. He stood up, and placed the $100 in my Rugrats hoodie pocket and sat back down. In order for me to “earn” the $100, he requested I show him my pubic hairs. I rejected instantly, with a whole bunch of sass and attitude that I was so great at giving. After trying to convince me for awhile, I left my room and it wasn’t spoken of again. The advances didn’t stop. But, I never told my mom. I was her only daughter, who never lived with her. He was the only person she had at home with her. So, I convinced myself that because this is who my mother loves, I couldn’t take that away from her by shedding light on the uncomfortable atmosphere her husband continued to create for me. Fast forward, 9th grade. My best friend was going to therapy at the time due to a sexual abuse afflicted upon her from her grandfather. She was finding healing and therapy on this situation, so I shared my secret with her. As a concerned friend, she relayed this to her therapist. Child Protective Services was called and they came to my father’s house. It was slightly discussed in the basement. This was all a blur to me. I know that much wasn’t really discussed, like I feel it should have been in my father’s household. When I was finally able to visit my mom again, her husband was not supposed to be around. I remember her taking me to Dover mall and us going shopping. I recall being in a fitting room, I wish I remembered what store. While trying on clothes, my mother asks me “do you want me to leave him?”. I remember instantly crying and telling her that I just want HER to be happy. Boy, did she take that and run with it. Just like that, he was slowly being reintroduced into my life until things were back to my mother’s normal again. Nothing was ever the same for me, but damn did I try. Fast forward back to the cruise. I originally bought tickets for her and her husband, as I have done by absolute best to leave the past in the past, no matter how much it affected me in each day of my life. He rejected the gift, but my mother was still going to go. The day came and we went. I was with my mother on her first plane ride. We flew to Fort Lauderdale to the cruise port. We made it. We finally made it. However, the memory that stays with me from that cruise…. is the evening at dinner where my mother started to cry. It took me my surprise, as she left the table and tried to stop herself from crying. I jumped up and tried to console her and ask what was wrong. She shared that I was hurting her feelings throughout the trip, making her feel like a burden. I was so taken aback, as I had absolutely no idea I was doing anything to make her feel anything, but positive. I apologized and did all I could to make her feel better, so we could return to dinner. Thinking of that evening still makes me extremely emotional. All of this time wanting to bring my mom on her first vacation out of the country, and I make my mom cry. It still doesn’t sit well with me and I haven’t quite found forgiveness for myself for that. It is four years later, and I don’t speak to my mother anymore. My trauma has caught up to me in many ways in my life. The constant lack of discussion, yet uncomfortable situations forced upon me throughout my life. As I try to heal these wounds that have been present for over a decade, the lack of discussion and acknowledgment are what hurt the absolute most. Trying to maintain relationships with parents, while they still choose actions that go against the protection and respect of their child. It’s difficult. It’s overwhelming. But, it is my life. Which means, it is my choice. I dream of nothing, but a healthy and loving family created by my husband and me. It starts here. No matter who needs to be removed for my healing, they will be. This is for my future children, as they deserve care, respect, commitment, and protection. I care enough for my future children to let go of the woman who carried me, no matter how difficult.
Sincerely, a broken daughter kj’a
