I wish that things were different when she passed away. I wish that I knew that she liked me. I wish that I felt special I wished that I felt loved unconditionally. There are still so many wishes, and there was a part of me that held an ever so small piece of hope that someday I could be all those things to her. Someday if I was just enough, she could be my mom. Someday we would laugh again, someday she could understand the person that I have fought so hard to be. I always wanted her to try and understand my life and where I was coming from. Most often I was met with, a disgust that I could never understand. She would look at me not with love or admiration, but something other than I was something that she couldn't control. I was someone that rocked the boat and asked too many questions.
I can tell you that there is an insurmountable amount of unfinished business between us, that there is no chance of figuring out, no chance to resolve. It just me my big feelings and the need to understand. I know there are things that I will never have answers for, I know that there will be things that sting like a million bee stings that no amount of baking soda and tears will be able to soothe. The truth is even if she was here, all that unfinished business would remain. Now that she is gone, hopefully to a place where her heart is happy, I can even find a little piece of peace and know that I am not a terrible awful daughter. It's amazing the things that I felt throughout my entire lifetime that I was just never enough.
I am not sure that our relationship had a chance because I was born a fighter, I was born an observer. I could sense and feel when things were not right, and I knew those things from as early as I can remember.
By the time I was 5 there were things I knew, that no five-year-old should know. I knew I was alone and on my own. How does a five-year-old know that? How does a five-year-old survive?
I knew that it was my job to take care of everyone's feelings. It was my job to smile and pretend that everything was ok. It was my job to be silent when my world was breaking. I am more than sad that there are so many memories that are silent. So many memories of unsaid words. I just wanted to feel like I mattered, that I was important. I was always alone, lonely was something I knew from as far back as I can remember. I didn't feel important, I was a bother. I always felt like an outsider, I didn't belong anywhere. I went through school wanting so badly to belong; Wanting to be a part but the things that I had to do, the things that were a part of my daily life made me more than different and there was a part of me that always knew that, so I acted accordingly. Smile, pretend that you are fine. Make everyone happy, no crying and just take care of things. I never felt safe, I never felt protected, I didn't feel like there was someone I could go to when my whole little world was crumbling.
There are a few things that stick out in my mind. The first time that I was abused by Albert right in front of my own house. He had come to get his brother that my mom babysat for. He would always hang out in the front yard with the neighborhood kids before getting his brother. I was standoffish not really a fan of him. It was a warm Texas. day, I had on a dress, no shoes or socks. I was outside but not really playing with anyone. I was watching, for what I am not sure, but it was something I always did, you have to be aware of your surroundings and I had that down. The front door was open, my mother cooking dinner. I can still see that brown screen door. Screen on the top and metal on the bottom. As soon as someone opened the door you could see right into the house, straight into the kitchen. How I don't know, but he got me cornered right behind that ugly brown screen door. His hands all over me, almost pretending to tickle me. I can remember almost laughing pushing him away, but those eyes. He was serious, his hands everywhere they should not have been. I was terrified. I managed my way around the door and ran inside, I was crying really hard and not one person stopped what they were doing. My mother never stopped her stirring at the stove. Not one person heard my cries and asked if I was ok, not a single soul. I can still remember seeing the steam from the pot, I still wanted someone to stop and make sure that I was ok, I was not so lucky. As I would come to learn quickly, these are just the things that happen. 5 years old was also the time that my first rape occurred. There was always abuse that was a given. This was something different. My father had been in my room, and I was in pain. One time that I remember not being able to stop crying. I was trying so hard to stop the tears and so hard to not wake any one up. I remember holding the tissue in my hand and tearing it into tinier and tinier pieces thinking that somehow that was going to help. There was literally nothing left of that tissue it had been disintegrated by a little girl that just wanted to stop hurting. I was unable to stop crying and woke up my mom, she came in my room, asking if I was ok, but there were no words. Just more tears and more tearing. She was there, but really, she wasn't there. I knew that I couldn't tell her what had just happened to me. There was a part of me that just wanted her to leave, I didn't want to get anyone in trouble and knew that there was nothing she could do, but I could not stop the tears. I had disturbed my father and he came in my room. I was terrified and not sure what was going to come next. They yelled back and forth, he stormed out of my room, and she went right after him leaving me alone. I managed to make it to the living room to check on. I should have stayed in my bed, she was kneeling in front of him, making him happy. I knew I was on my own. I was just 5 fucking years old. That night is as clear as my day yesterday. This was going to be my life. I was on my own. There was no one that was going to save me. I was not safe, I did not feel important, I was a bother that was supposed to smile and just do what I was told. Why didn't she stand up for me? Why were his needs and wants so much more important than mine? Why was I expected to smile and pretend that everything was fine?
By the time I was thirteen, I was the shell of a human. Barely Breathing.
You could say that life never got any easier for me. I was alone in life for most things. I was different, I was weird, I was that girl with no real friends, that girl that no one wanted to be around. I am sure I just felt so different inside, joining in was never an option for me. I wanted and needed someone to hold me tight , I never got that from who I needed it the most my mom. I didn't feel like I belonged with any of them. I had it in my head, that I was gross and who would want to be friends with me anyway. If they knew the things that I had to do; I would be the laughingstock of the school like I wasn't already. The abuse by my father was as bad as ever, He was worried about pregnancy and at least the rapes became fewer. He was still cruel in so many other ways, and I was withdrawing from the world. I was losing hope that things were ever going to get better.
My parents' bright idea was to send me to youth group. Yea: send the quiet girl to interact with a group of high schoolers that I wasn't even old enough to belong to. Not sure who thought that was a good idea. They kept saying that I was so mature, and I hated it, I didn't want to be mature I just wanted to be a kid without a care in the world. I carried the weight of the world, and no one really cared. I was dying inside, and no one noticed. Their answer was youth group when that only added to the pain. There was no support for me, I didn't feel like there was one person I could talk to. Not one single person. I could never go to my mom. I never got to share my heart with her. She never cared to ask.
I went on that weekend and Met Don. I was once again alone and had no one to talk too. I never got to share that I thought he was cute, that I had butterflies. I never told her about my first kiss and that with him I felt special. I felt like I mattered, those were things we didn't talk about. When he showed up at my door it wasn't a thought that WOW, I need to tell my mom so that she can help me. That thought never even occurred to me. I felt so stupid having a crush on Don, because I was just a stupid girl who danced in front of everyone. She never told me those things were ok. Since I did have a crush, I thought he was cute, I kissed him how in the hell was I supposed to share what he had done to me. Because in my life those are the things that just happen. You do what you are told clean up the mess and keep moving forward. NO one is there to dry your tears no one is there to tell you that it's not your fault.
So as things got worse and worse, that was just another part of my life that I had to keep to myself. You are hurt well it was your fault. You are hurt by 5 men well deal with it, no one is going to help you. And I did. I kept going, kept breathing when every bone in my body just wanted to die. Don came again and there was literally nothing left, fine, take what you want, I was losing my fight and my hope I didn't want to live anymore. Then there was Bella. She was my bright light; she was my reason for living she was my everything and somehow, she was going to make everything better. Somehow, she brought me joy that I had never known. And again, I was on my own. I lived in this fairy tale world where I was going to be her mom and give her all the things in life that I never had. You cannot tell me that no one in my house noticed anything different. You can't tell me that no one noticed my growing belly. Not one time do I remember my mom being around, talking to me or making sure that my heart was ok. I was so lonely, and I believed that somehow Bella was going to make everything ok. Nothing else mattered. Feeling her move, believing that I was going to make sure she was safe and sound such a fairy tale world and no one even acknowledged that I existed, Calvin was the only person that acknowledged her. I was just a stupid 13-year-old. There was no support, once again my heart was never cared for or acknowledged. Then one of the greatest losses of my life, and I was alone. There are so many things I don't remember but I do remember that I was alone, that the only care that I got was what Calvin could give as a high school student. And the DR that gently petted my leg and said "I am sorry you have lost her" that was my only comfort.
There was a time that she liked me, that we would go to the movies, that we would laugh. There were always so many things left unsaid. She never asked I never told.
How could she not notice? Did she know I went to the ER? Why didn't they want to press charges? Was I not worth more? Why was I not important enough for my own mom to stand up for me? Why did she never ask what happened to me? Why didn't she hold me and make me feel like I mattered? It was me against the world and there was not one person on my side.
As I entered my 20's I was pissed at the world. I wanted to make the world a better place and didn't care what I had to do for that to happen. I was attending Collin County for Psychology, I wanted to figure out the world and make it better. Even there I was afraid; I would see Don every now and then and yet those were things I had to keep to myself. If there was no care that I was raped, would they even care that there were times I was terrified to walk to my car or leave class fearing that I might see him, or he might hurt me, there were so many questions in my head and there was no one that was there with me. There was no one caring for my heart. Alone and no one asking. There were a few guys at Collin, there was Trevin that I had a huge crush on but I knew how crushes turned out. There was Ryan, he held the door open for me, he smiled when I said save the whales, I had no clue what to do someone being interested and we went separate ways. My one regret was never going out when he asked me. There was Scott also a Psychology Major, we would talk before class during class and after class. He made me smile he stuck up for me, we would laugh until we cried, he was everything amazing in my crazy crazy world and I was sure that I was not worth his time. There was no mom there to tell me, I was worth so much more than I believed. I was the brunt of many family jokes only I wasn't laughing. I had lost a lot of weight, and I can remember my brother had some friends over and I made a sandwich and my brother started oinking like a pig at the table, everyone laughed except me. I threw my food in the trash and left the room. My mother never once told him to stop. I was the one that was being too sensitive. She was my brother's friend, and I was more of the parent. Even when I wanted to get a trainer, she told me how stupid it was and then she went and got one. I was crushed and didn't understand the competition with her. I just wanted a mom that loved and supported me. A mom that wanted the best for me and was going to help me get it. With all that happened in my life I wanted to know that there was someone who was always going to be on my side, I never ever got that.
I loved whales, and kids always made my heart smile. I wanted to make sure that not one person ever had to feel the things that I did. I graduated and moved on to UNT. First semester there, I pressed charges on my father. She did go with me to look for his house, but I never felt understood or cared for. My concern and worry about what he was doing was never ever acknowledged. I wonder what she was thinking. I wonder what she thought about me wanting to make things right for others. I was always struggling to be heard and to be understood and was met with cold shoulders. I just wasn't seen and even in trying to get justice, trying to make him pay the price for the things he had done, there was no support, no sorry no you are strong and brave. We sat in the Da's office and questions were asked about what was done to me, I felt so very small, and so ashamed and not a word was said, there was not a single care for me. I was left more than embarrassed. After he took the plea, we stood in the entryway, and she said how glad she was that it was over. She had no clue, she never talked to me, through the process. I can remember standing in the airport after testifying and not one question was asked how it was.....I was crumbling, cracking. There was just more silence, with a heart that was already oh so heavy. I was breaking, crumbling falling apart and not one person saw me, not one person reached out, not one person held my hand. There was no comfort for me, fighting was the name of my game. I desperately wanted to feel some kind of normal any kind of normal and that was the mistake I made, and I got my precious most amazing Vincent and Mariska. He put a pillow over my face, trying to quiet me, little did he know, by the time the pillow was on my face I was far away. Not once did my mother ask any questions. When I said he was black she talked about them looking like little monkeys. Those are the things that stay with you forever. There were some good times as the pregnancy progressed, but there were also so much unsaid. She never truly knew my story. And her part in it, was in and out and very conditional. My world was my children, they were all that truly mattered. She didn't understand the mother that I was, and I couldn't understand the mother that she wasn't. I left my twenties, bruised and battered but I was a mom and had these two sweet precious amazing little lives that made my life worth living. I did not miss a single second with them. And they always knew just how special that they were and how much that they were loved. I told them over and over what awesome little children they were everything I did was for them and the things that I wanted them to experience in this life.
There was a time in my 30's when things seemed to settle some, but in my life, I know that good things never last. When the kids were little life was busy, there were always diapers to change and dishes to clean. I enjoyed every second. Life was busy but that was a good thing. My mother loved being a grandmother. She often wanted to take over but there was no one that was going to hurt my children. Mariska really wanted nothing to do with her, she would give her this look trying to figure her out and that was something my mom didn't like. Her and Vincent got along well, no matter what I told Vincent she would give him what he wanted, she would keep secrets and sneak around. Looking back those are things that she started with him so early. I always knew that I wanted to go back to school. I signed up to be a substitute teacher the year that they started Kindergarten. It was amazing I loved being in the classroom. I again started taking classes at UNT. Things were calm. My children were everything and made me more than happy. There were many classes that they came with me to campus. I would bring snacks and coloring and little quiet toys. We would sing and laugh in the car coming from Denton. As they hit certain ages, my heart broke, things how I was brought up, experiences that I had or didn't have were hard. I was grateful that my children were safe, I was grateful for how they were getting to experience the world. Looking back, I have no idea how I made it sometimes, food stamps, state assistance and still my children had what they needed. This was a time when my mother stepped up, she was supportive sometimes as long as I agreed and didn't rock the boat. I tried counseling a few times again, that was an area that she always wanted to get involved in. Every single counselor that I saw she found them and made an appointment with them. She never understood me and instead of trying to find out she just made an appointment with my counselor. I continued taking classes, I was exhausted. Subbing during the day, classes at night. I was tired but my children were happy. Then she started her weight loss journey and things went from tense to the worse that they had ever been. She got very secretive, giving herself shots for what I don't know. But gradually nothing I did was enough. I was below her. She had her food, and I was constantly looked down on. I was becoming the dirt under her feet, and I was doing nothing different. I was working so hard to finish school and create a life for the kids and I and within months we were something that was getting in the way. There were so many negative comments and nothing I did was enough. Was my life hard, YES, was I fighting yes, was I sad and dealing with things she knew nothing about YES. She never cared to ask. but she had done a complete 180 we were not wanted; we were not important. There was no relationship anymore really. She started talking to others about me, I was a bother. There were times that my brother would come over and I would cry telling him what was going on things she was doing, how I was being treated and there was no support. The response was always well I am not here to know. There was no one on my side. I was working going to school trying to be the best mom and not getting any support. The passive aggressive things she did were so hurtful. She looked down on my every second of every day, nothing I did was right, All of the sudden the kids back packs were a problem on the back of the chairs, she would pull the table out leaving little space to walk though. Her self-centeredness was growing, the little care that I felt was gone. I was miserable, and she didn't care. She didn't know me and didn't want to. She started doing different things, but if you didn't agree you, were the idiot. There were emails that were left out from other people telling her not to let us steal her joy. That I was turning the kids against her. I was crushed, and I didn't understand. Things were getting worse and worse. The kids were in fifth grade, she said that she wanted to talk after I dropped the kids off at school. My stomach was in knots. I could not imagine what she had to say, and still, I don't remember. But I remember crying with her sharing my heart and where I was. How hard that I was trying to keep everything together. And she sat there in front of me no emotion, no care or concern and she shrugged her shoulders. I just got up and went to my room, there was nothing there for me. And that was one of the final straws for me. I was sad and I was dealing with a lot in counseling. She was treating me so badly and I didn't understand why. So a woman that I knew, her husband had passed away and she offered for us to move in with her. I was terrified but I said yes. And with-in a few weeks, I was moved out and I never looked back. My final year of school, my student teaching she didn't care. I enrolled the kids at Hedgecoxe elementary, fifth grade. We were starting our own life. I was still subbing and going to school. Life was still crazy but more peaceful. We had almost no contact for 4 years. She would see Vincent every now and then. She would sometimes have them for dinner. It's so strange, she expected everything to be the same, but nothing was the same. I was alone in the world, and she didn't care. Finally Finally I was ready to graduate, I had enough hours for three degrees, but Finally I was there. Graduation day, I almost didn't even walk, I just wanted to quietly, start the next chapter. There was really no relationship with my mom. There was no support, she wanted to pretend like everything was great I could not do that. My favorite James flew in from Colorado to see me graduate. I met him outside and was so happy. We couldn't not find my mom and brother, the tension was so thick, we finally found them almost an hour later. It was uncomfortable, they wanted to celebrate and yet they were not there in any of the struggle. I wanted them to be there, but at the same time I didn't. You don't get to make this about you. You don't get to be the hero because you showed up for a celebration. The next day was my graduation party. Just a few people, my mother showed up and it was odd. She wanted to pretend that all was well, really, I was heartbroken because things were so bad, I had to move out my final semester, because of how I was treated by her. She tried to pretend that was all water under the bridge. It wasn't for me, I was shattered. One of the women asked her to leave. Everything was uncomfortable, I wanted peace. I wanted to feel loved and supported, I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere; I did not belong anywhere. EVER. I struggled on my own I finally found a job at a place that I loved. I was a teacher. Nothing got better between us. There were times that I longed to call her tell her about my life, but that fear of being crushed was always there. I had been hurt and dismissed too much for one lifetime and I just didn't want to add any more hurt. As I gained some independence, things where I was living started to change. Catrina wanted a babysitter; she wanted a husband and I got in the way. Her words and actions did not match. She wanted to go on trips run around, stay out at night and expected me to care for her son. I was tired, I had a lot happening with no support, no people on my side. I was busy working everyday caring for my children, looking for a full time job I was no longer useful to her. She sat me down one afternoon and said that it wasn't working, she wanted us out by Christmas. I was shocked, I said fine, and we were out with-in three weeks. That also made her angry because I didn't follow her timeline. We were not welcome there anymore either, the leaf was taken out of the table, there was no room for us. There was a revolving door of men in and out and I was so uncomfortable. Most nights we ate in the car, a park or didn't eat at all. And I had no one. Slowly my mother came in the picture. I shared how crazy that things were. The kids and I were going out every day after school trying to find a place to live. And we found our perfect place, in Anna on Creekview. It was everything perfect and I so loved that house. She helped us move in, and she would visit. It finally felt like we had an adult relationship. For the first time in as long as I can remember I felt like i had a mom.
Then I hit my 40's and I had no idea how close to the end that we were. Our relationship was slowly being repaired. She would come visit, bring us snacks or just things that we liked, then she would go back to her home. I loved having my own space. I loved having her come visit but still having my own place that was all mine. A place where I finally belonged, a place that was mine a place to call home. Things went like that for over a year, there were a few weekends she would sleep over and things were good. Vincent played Hockey, Mariska excelled in school, I had a job that I loved more than anything; all was well with the world. We laughed we cried we watched movies I had a mom. Enough together and I had my own place that no one was ever going to take away. Then Country Wide was all over the news huge layoffs happening. She survived the first few until she didn't and was laid off. She had her severance for almost a year when that ran out, I was worried and didn't know what she was going to do. Me being the person that I was said why don't you move in with me ? That turned into her selling her house and then me buying a bigger house where we would all fit . So we did. I had a lot of reservations, I was on a single teacher Salary would I be able to afford this huge house, higher electricity and water, HOA dues, Mortgage, I voiced my concerns and it was always met with I will help you, you will be fine. That should have been a red flag. Once again all of us living under the same roof. In the beginning it was amazing. We were a team working together. Things were better than they had ever been. She would make dinner some nights, she was a part of our family But to soon things started to change. She started trying to control the house, moving things rearranging different things in the kitchen. She was getting between Vincent and I. There were secrets and whispers. She was doing the same things that she did with my brother growing up and I didn't know what to do. Then she started with her surgeries. The first back surgery. We were there for every second, doing everything. Then another surgery and another surgery and another. Then there were injections. It was a lot. Her health got worse and wore and worse, nothing was ever enough, more and more medicine. I still had a full time job and couldn't be everything that she wanted or needed. Somewhere I became the vilan, and things never got better. All she talked about were doctors, that was the only time that she was happy. It's hard to explain it all , things gradually got worse and worse. We became the enemy. There was no more interaction. When we had dinner at the table she would sit there and stare into space. Mariska and I just made her Angry, we laughed and talked all the time, but to her that was a bother. I had to ask her for rent because this huge house had many more expenses and I was drowning, she didn't like that. She was always threatening to take away that 200 a month. She really didn't care anymore, she never helped out, it was all me. These were the things I was worried about before we moved in. So many surgeries and she was deteriorating. How she walked all bent over, scuffing her feet, then it was her shoulder. She was only 65 and looked and acted so much older. After one back surgery she went and stayed with Martha, she said it was the stairs, she said it was a lot of things I think that was an excuse to get out of the house. I was the bad guy for not taking care of her. Then a shoulder surgery, she gave reasons why she couldn't stay here, none of them made sense. Looking back I believe she was telling others that it was because of me, while she was telling me it was because of her Dr's. Her shoulder surgery, Martha drove her here to pick up some things and Martha didn't even acknowledge me, at the car. Mariska and I thought it was pretty strange. We didn't understand, For the kids and I each time she went away we felt like we could breathe. We could just be with no judgement no dirty looks. We loved each of those breaks. She was making Vincent her buddy getting between the two of us. She put him in the middle often, and it broke my heart. I began to say the worst decision I ever made was moving in together. I didn't change, I was the same person I always was and that wasn't enough for her. The more that I had my own life, the angrier that she got. She didn't like me, or the person that I was. I think in the beginning I was able to ignore more, but I wanted my own life , and she wanted more and more that I just couldn't give her. I held her accountable, not letting her get away with things and she didn't like that. She viewed herself as poor granny that no one was taking care of .
The beginning of the end was her trip to Alaska. I was completely crushed, she didn't care or have a clue that she had broken my heart. That was one place that she said the kids and I would go. For years and years she had said that. She said things that were unkind about my brother and said that was our trip. I was really hurt, just another jab to my heart. So she went, It was amazing when she was gone, we got a breather and some peace. No one complaining about anything. NO demands for Vincent. No one asking for things every 5 minutes. Then she came back. I was hurt, I didn't want to hear about her trip. So one night she asked if I wanted to see pictures. I can see us standing in the kitchen, and I told her that I was really hurt that I couldn't see those pictures. I told her that was a trip that she had said the kids and I would go on with her. I even cried. The response was not good. I got the shoulder shrug, she didn't care at all about my feelings. I got a long text how she was old and I should be happy for her. She totally missed the point of what I said to her. I felt good standing up for myself once again I was the bad guy. Then her sister had surgery, things went badly and she went to take care of her. Another break for us, we were relieved. She came back Sunday. She came back with Covid, she went into the Hospital Tuesday by calling 911 and she died Friday at 4:28. That fast. She was gone.
I think its after she was gone I realized so much more about what she thought of me and things she was planning, I was crushed. I was the one that was there in the hospital, I was the one that was there and it didn't even matter. I was more than hurt, and felt like she had been talking behind my back for a really long time. She had been throwing me under the bus telling others how I didn't take care of her. So many different pieces began to fall into place as texts were read comments were made and things that were seen. , I was the terrible daughter that never took care of her. She was planning on moving out and getting a little dog section 8 housing because I was one of the worst. Chris made comments that if people were so concerned why didn't they call adult protective services ? WHAT ? On me, I just didn't understand. There were comments that Martha didn't want to be in the same room breathing the same air that I was. Another knife through the heart. I think she had decided against moving out, but still. She was angry that I didn't make her my life, she was angry that I didn't drop everything to care for her. She was angry and hated the person that I was.
I am blown away, that how things ended. I am also relieved, because the pain that she caused me I don't have words for. When I look through out my life I was more than alone most of the time. My pain sadness and reality was never acknowledged. I will be forever grateful that I had a few good years, but all those others are beyond painful. I never felt that I had a mom that was forever on my side. I have never felt like I had a mom that was always there. I never felt understood, never felt like I had a soft place to fall. I have to believe that there was a part of her that loved me somewhere. She never gave me a hug and just let me fall to pieces. I didn't feel important or that I mattered . I have felt alone my entire life, from the first abuse to her last breathe. As we stood there in the hospital, I walked close to the glass, I put my hand on the window tears streaming, and I said I love you mom, I love you mom, wanting her to hear me, I put my head on the glass, I am not sure but I hope in someway she could feel my love. I loved her so much and was never enough. The unfinished business is great. I no longer have a mom but the truth is I haven't had a mom for a long time. There is a different kind of aloneness now. So much unsaid. I loved you mom, more than you will ever know. I am sorry I wasn't the person you wanted me to be, sorry I couldn't take care of you how you wanted me too.
Despite all that has happened to me in this life, I am kind, I am genuine, I am a fighter that will never ever give up. I am sure that there is much left for me to accomplish. I am going to try and reclaim the things that were lost , never given and unfinished. I have a long way to go; I think there will be things that always hurt my heart, but there will be a peace that I know I did all that I could. I will always make sure that those around me never feel the things that I have had to in my life. I will always fight for others and for myself. Someday I will stand proud, of the woman that I have become because of my resilience. Someday I will feel brave, someday I will feel courageous, someday I will be proud of all I survived, and know I made a difference. That is the woman I always was mom.
