Mother, in the end I was always alone.

My Immortal-Evanescence

I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me

You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along

            The words of a song, meant to tell about the breakup of a man and a woman yet it is so amazing how these words touch me. I am so tired of the mental state I am in, because of fears that I can relate to all of my childhood fears. My mother passed away a year ago and yet I am so confused on if I should be sad or happy looking back at the way that my life was growing up.

            The one day that Mom and Dad got into that fight, Mom ran up the stairs, slamming the bathroom door. Did she not know I was in my bedroom? She should have because I always ran and hid when they fought. Dad was always drunk and his yelling was so loud. I remember things being thrown, the words, how Dad would grab you by the arms and shake you. If you knew I was there would you have grabbed that razor and start to slice your wrist. I can remember you crying, a cry that to this day when I hear a women cry shoots right into my heart and stomach. I remember being taken to a neighbor’s house not knowing if you were dead or alive. We had to spend the night there and I was so scared, no one would tell us anything. From that day forward I believed it was my job to be there for you. I always was there to wipe away your tears, and as life went on often settled your fears. I held your hand thru many family problems, and even when dad laid in bed taking his last breath I held your hand. Yet, you were not always there to do the same for me.

            And how did I get treated all those years? I became Paul’s “Boy Toy” to do as he pleased when you were not around.  When he told on us that first time, who did you discipline? The two young kids who knew nothing of what they were doing.  Did you not think that when we denied having sex that maybe we did not even know what that word meant? Why was the beating longer, because we lied to you? We told you we did not even know the word? We now feared you.

            Yet I always looked up to you, kept an eye open for you to make sure that you were safe. Then again, what can a very young child do against the man who was drunk and out with other women all the time? I sat with you as you cried on the bed, hugged you and held your hand. Yet when I told you about being forced to perform oral sex on Paul you never jumped up in anger, you never once called him on the floor about it, what you did do? You told me next time “bite it off”. Think about that, bite it off. To a child who looked up to you, who looked to you to be my protector? You basically gave him and all his friends the right to use my body for their pleasure, and this they did. From age of seven until the age of fifteen I was used for sexual pleasure, for laughs as they shot me with BB Guns, tossed darts at me, tossed glasses of urine at me, give me drinks that they had urinated in or just made fun of me all around. Don’t you remember I was the Egg and Paul was the Egg-Beater? You even laughed at that.

            Now I am bound right now by the past you all left for me to deal with. The beatings you gave, the things you took from me, the way you would used suicide to get your way, the mental abuse, and the physical abuse by you and Dad to the sexual abuse by Paul. I know you’re gone, but your face shows in my thoughts and dreams. Oh how I prayed for a sign that you really did love me after you died. Anything, a smell, a sign, or even a touch on my shoulder to let me know you cared in the end. I am left with the pain of my past that you all gave me, the pain that you allowed and more so the pain that in the end, looking back in my life I can actually question just how much you did love me And now, I am dealing with the loss of my mind, all my childhood fears haunt me, all the memories come back worse, your voice telling me to Bite It Off has seemed to chase away all my sanity.

            I tell myself that you’re no longer here, but how do I give up someone who gave birth to me. Who fed me, clothed me and raised me? But then I look at being raised, I look at the way you treated me even into my married life when you could and would call at all hours of the day. How I would jump planes and rush to be at your side to hold your hand, only to find out in the end I was alone the whole time. Till next time……