mascera on my pillow

I have been crying, so much my eyes are swollen and there are perfect marks from them on my pillow.

My husband has gotten up to go to work. We talked. A perfect blogger support friend moment. I wouldn't have talked....but the words written by Vicki in AZ struck my heart to the core, she wrote about telling...


Today, I went to her blog...she posted about her reasons....a reason to break the cycle...


ummmm, it is not ironic. there are reasons we are in one anothers lives.


Let me write, about my tears. For me. If you read, please know...

this is written for me, to heal, it is how I feel today. But it is not how I will feel tomorrow, or when you are reading it, it is only how I feel RIGHT NOW. In this moment.

For once I write it I will walk away from my computer, leave these feelings, these thoughts, HERE, in my closet, in my healing place. And it will be DONE.

My brother came to visit.

We had a wonderful evening.

And then we stayed up WAY to late talking.

The next morning came really early. I had to be up, to be showered, dressed, ready, to get everyone else ready...

because we only have one day, one moment to make,

and then he will be gone.

AGAIN.


Abandonment. Probably the hardest of my abuse issues to deal with.

I miss people, when they are gone.

I hate leaving. I struggle with deaths. Still.


This morning I was TELLING my husband,
after many tears,
about my pain.

I haven't ever really done that.
I talked to him. He tried to comfort, to console,
then he tried to SOLVE.

The solving doesn't really work,
he got up and went to work.
He left me too.


So I cried more.
And then I remembered that I could come here and tell.
I could just write it all away.

What I fear the most is to become like my own mother was. It is not a rational fear, I know that I wont become her. It would be impossible. But, I hurt.

I hurt today because I realized yesterday, with my brother, that it was us. Well, it was me.

We took a drive yesterday, up a canyon that I grew up in. My mother used to tell us as kids that we could not swim until the snow was off the mountain. The snow was never off this mountain, EVER. If it was, she would say, "YEAH...we will go next week." And as children we got our hopes up....and then it would SNOW the next week, and of course we couldn't go.

My brother said, "she said that because she never wanted to take us swimming." Which is probably true.

My daughter said, "My mom tells us the same thing." And that is true.


I do. I tell my kids that. The difference is that I take them swimming all the time. But I tease and tell them that, and I thought that it was kind of cathartic that I could tell them that, and smile. That I was able to DEAL with some of my childhood without it all being bad, and being sad.


But yesterday....as we talked about this - I remembered something.


We remembered something. We were talking and I said, "Yes, she would say that, but she never stopped us from having fun."

My brother remembered that we would always flood things so that we could swim. We flooded everything we could find on our farm. We laughed yesterday about letting the cows out. About leaving our basement window open and letting ourselves in and out, day and night. No one ruled us. We ruled, and we had so much fun.

And then we remembered....we flooded the basement once, so that we could GO SWIMMING. We plugged up the bathroom, the toilet, the shower, and both sinks, and left the water on. We went out the window to play...just knowing that the basement would be our swimming pool when we got home. We flooded the basement...so that we could have fun.


Because we flooded the basement my mother had to hire construction workers to come remodel our home.

Because we flooded the basement, my mother hired my future STEP DAD to remodel our home.

BECAUSE we flooded the basement, he came into our home everyday and began to molest me, he wooed my mother from her lonely life, and she took us kids and ran away with him.


Because of me.

And, now I have said the same thing to my children, the thing that she said to us, the thing that started our nightmare.