“I think I can; I think I can; I think I can.”
She had me say it over and over until I knew that I couldn’t. Mommie Dearest, she was sometimes, because as she always said to me, “sometimes she was good, and sometimes she was bad and sometimes she was just very very very horrid.” That was the little girl with a curl right in the middle of her forehead… Me, that was me.
So my life could be about early childhood neglect, abuse or whatever the 1950’s labelled angry stay at home moms and their Betty Crocker aprons powdered with cookies for the father who was mentally absentee due to “slight autism.”
But, no. I hate talking about abuse and further hate hearing about it, but it was where I came …show more content…
Mother seemed aggravated at me a lot. I moved away from home into an institution at 16 years of age. The doctor said it was to keep me away from my mother. It was a blessing. I never returned home except for a few times many years later. Mother and I began to heal mentally somehow. She never talked to me about all the whys and be-causes nor made any apologize; however, on her death bed she made a confession to our neighbor who told me a little of what she said after she died. But, I will never know what was going on in her heart. I suspect she just didn’t was a third child. Abortions weren’t legal in 1952.
It doesn’t matter now. I think she and I have mended our ways. din’t ask me how, as it’s supernatural and magical but we have.
I have grown up! I have two wonderful older children and a grandchild. I’ve worked as a registered nurse for 19 years and have specialized in psychiatric nursing since 2002.
Writing poetry and short stories are my escapes presently I have five critters and live by myself. The ghosts of my childhood make married life difficult now, so I choose my quiet time now. Remembering disassociation is a positive for writing. The unseen world is loud and clear if and when I need to call on it for assistance in writing a story.
Thanks for allowing me the opportunity to share with you some of my childhood, as this is difficult to write about. It is written using as much light hearted humor as I can without distracting from the traumatic integrity the story that I honestly
She had me say it over and over until I knew that I couldn’t. Mommie Dearest, she was sometimes, because as she always said to me, “sometimes she was good, and sometimes she was bad and sometimes she was just very very very horrid.” That was the little girl with a curl right in the middle of her forehead… Me, that was me.
So my life could be about early childhood neglect, abuse or whatever the 1950’s labelled angry stay at home moms and their Betty Crocker aprons powdered with cookies for the father who was mentally absentee due to “slight autism.”
But, no. I hate talking about abuse and further hate hearing about it, but it was where I came …show more content…
Mother seemed aggravated at me a lot. I moved away from home into an institution at 16 years of age. The doctor said it was to keep me away from my mother. It was a blessing. I never returned home except for a few times many years later. Mother and I began to heal mentally somehow. She never talked to me about all the whys and be-causes nor made any apologize; however, on her death bed she made a confession to our neighbor who told me a little of what she said after she died. But, I will never know what was going on in her heart. I suspect she just didn’t was a third child. Abortions weren’t legal in 1952.
It doesn’t matter now. I think she and I have mended our ways. din’t ask me how, as it’s supernatural and magical but we have.
I have grown up! I have two wonderful older children and a grandchild. I’ve worked as a registered nurse for 19 years and have specialized in psychiatric nursing since 2002.
Writing poetry and short stories are my escapes presently I have five critters and live by myself. The ghosts of my childhood make married life difficult now, so I choose my quiet time now. Remembering disassociation is a positive for writing. The unseen world is loud and clear if and when I need to call on it for assistance in writing a story.
Thanks for allowing me the opportunity to share with you some of my childhood, as this is difficult to write about. It is written using as much light hearted humor as I can without distracting from the traumatic integrity the story that I honestly