Dear Classic Mom Diary:
For weeks now I've been contemplating this post. First and foremost I couldn't decide as to whether I wanted to start this story and share this journey on my personal blog, or on my "Mommy" blog. I wasn't sure as to whether or not I wanted this to be associated with my Motherhood, but I've come to realize that this story and this information is some of my most critical insight as to how I will manage and conquer the life of a Mother. It will also hold me accountable for all of my actions and future achievements and lessons, because it is no longer just for myself, but for partner, our child, and our family.
Many times in the past when I attempted to share this story, I lost control with anger, hurt, and frustration, and ended up producing words that were only capable of causing harm. These stories shared the truth of my life, however not in a polite manner that I felt reflected the person I am now, and the person I am working to become. Instead they were direct, raw, and often purely hateful. Admittedly, they did reflect exactly who I was then, and every single story that I erased, or decided against publishing in my blog was exactly what I needed to read and write to myself, in order to see how bitter and angry I was becoming, as well as to give me the opportunity to make the decision right here, right now as to how my past will affect the rest of my future.
I finally feel ready to share my story in full, brutal honesty. If any opinions, thoughts, or facts offend anyone, I apologize, but I can assure you that they are not placed to cause hurt, they are placed to explain my pain and current self. So, here we go.
I am what one might call a mutt of the human race. I come from a lady who I barely know, who (I've been told) has Fetal Alcohol Syndrom (FAS). She birthed me at the young age of 18, and was gone by the time I was 6 months old. My father was a bit older than her, and I ultimately know nothing of him. I have never met him in my life. Essentially, I coin myself a "mutt" because I come from "poor bloodlines" and it is extremely evident in my physical, mental, and emotional processes. I like the way it adds humor to my situation, because like a mutt, I still have the ability to be beautiful and to flourish and grow, despite any deficits I may have stowing away in my baggage.
My biological parents were forced to either adopt me out or surrender me to social services after my Step-Grandmother on my birth Mom's side took me to the clinic one weekend, only for them to discover my collar bone had been broken, there were hand marks around my wrist and there was a cigarette burn on the end of my nose. To this day, I have no idea who did that - out of everyone involved in the situation, I've never once received the same story. I decided to blame everyone and no one at the same time, but to the jerk who did it and won't speak up, I will admit: I harbor hurt and frustration inside that I will never receive closure for and to that you will live with karma in your life.
I was adopted to my Great Aunt and Great Uncle, who will be known as "Mom" and "Dad" in this blog. It is what I call them in real life, and have since I could speak. Throughout my childhood, my Dad was always working and rarely home. When he was home, he would be tired from work and often would lay and watch TV most of the time, but when he wasn't too tired he would take me for a walk to the playground or to ride my bike around the block. Sometimes when we had a day together we'd walk the dog, too, but he was a guard dog so unless Dad was really awake and feeling capable of fending off any potential fights, we didn't really get to do that often. My Mom ran a childcare, and I made a lot of friends there that came and went often. Some stayed for a long time, two in particular that I've kept for almost 16 years now, and another one that I've known for just about 12 years. I had a lot of friends growing up from school, child care, daycare meet-ups my Mom would attend fairly regularly, and within' my family on my Dad's side. It almost sounds like after the baby incident I should've had a perfect life.
Except I didn't. When I was a very young child, I was touched inappropriately by one of my friend's Dad's one afternoon while I was visiting her house. Since then I have suffered from many things, but since this is a Mommy-based blog I can only share in so many details and to my embarrassment most of the content is too explicit. I can tell you, however, it doesn't come without a high amount of shame and guilt, which leads to deep emotional and mental problems that I suffer of. To be completely honest, I have many parts of the memory blocked out, and have never sought help for this topic, and it is only in recent months that I admitted this. Up until this time, only one counselor knew about it, ever. During counselor sessions I will be having in the future (that are being arranged by my prenatal doctor) I will be doing a lot of healing on this subject, as it is one of the main sources of a lot of my pain and trauma, and I believe healing will drive me in the direction I need to be in in order to be able to prevent this in my child's life, but to also prevent myself from being over-protective with them around others.
My Mom is also a very unloving person and lacked the ability to show compassion or care. This lead to many fights, a lot of emotional abuse, and a lot of threatened physical abuse. While it's not my business to share much, my Mom was emotionally abused as a child to a high degree as well as had very rough living conditions (Mother passed when she was young & Father severely disabled). In one aspect I have been raised by my Dad to believe it's not her fault. In another I've been raised that everyone (especially adults) must be held accountable for their own actions, and many don't. To this day my Mom claims she doesn't remember all of the times she threatened to hit me and when I told her I would call the cops she'd say "go ahead, then I'll really beat you to make sure it's worth it when I get f---ing locked up." She did many other things as well, and claims never to remember any of it - and when she does, she remembers it in reverse, as though I were the one making the threats or dealing the abuse. My Mom had a tendency to ridicule me and make me feel as though she was just a normal person joking, and I was being overly sensitive and was incapable of taking jokes. She would tell me that my birth Mom's FAS and poor habits when she was pregnant had affected me and that I was "different" than others, and that was probably why I would get so angry and upset. She refused to understand that it was her abusive, rude, and cruel actions that were causing it. Moreover, she refused to believe she was doing anything wrong. She still does.
In a way, almost every irrational fear, lack of confidence, over-reactive outbreak, and bout of depression or anxiety can be linked back to my Mom and how she treated me as a child, and how she continues to treat me as an adult. What's worse though is that due to her inability to remember (or at least telling me she doesn't remember - her face says she does) I have a hard time holding her responsible, and hold myself responsible. It is unfair, because that is exactly what she has conditioned me to do: as a child I had no way to defend myself against her, nor should my small actions such as not putting my dish in the sink have caused such outrageous reactions from her. I was groomed to believe, however, that I was driving her to insanity with my inability to do as I was told, and deserved every bit of hate she crammed my way my whole life.
It is painful for me to live every day knowing that many of my actions are so deeply rooted in this mess. I have been told that there is a strong likelihood that I suffer of PTSD and I definitely believe this is true. Each day, I deal with horrible, traumatizing, debilitating, extremely real flash-backs that put me back as far as being a young child longing to be loved and wanted, but only ever being told that she was unloveable, horrible, shameful, didn't belong anywhere, and had no where to run and get help. I have flashbacks to standing with my back in a corner of a room with my Mom's hand in her face and her screaming at me about how I'm lucky she doesn't beat the shit out of me, or I'm lucky my Dad will be home soon. About how my birth Mom hated me, and she hated me, and no one would ever like me because I'm ugly with funny teeth (had very crooked buck teeth as a child) and had a bad attitude.
Anyone who knew me as a child and who knows me now knows that I am a people-pleaser and that ever since I was born I have always been the kind to hug strangers, make others laugh, and go out of my way to make people smile. Over the years, I have lost a lot of these traits because they were punished out of me. As a child, I would pick flowers and leave bouquets on strangers' doors with a small note attached saying "have a good day" or something. I would donate my stuffed animals and was always a friend to anyone who didn't have one, or needed an extra. I never said no to anyone in need of help, ever. I always donated when I saw a bin, I'd beg my parents for coins to help the kids or the dogs or whatever the charity was. No one would have ever suspected I'd become this introverted, hurt, hermit of a person who is incapable of even being herself anymore.
Inside, I still am that giving person. When I am in a good mood and away from my home and am being my honest self, I am such a happy person. Sometimes I even feel happier when people are attracted to my pretty smile, rather than embarrassed or worried that they think I'm crazy or ugly. I want to be more me, and I am going to be. Day by day, whether it's alone, with help, or in a full blown psych ward, I am going to get better. I have said this so many times, and each time I have gotten much closer to being able to fully admit my problems, because each time I have been able to understand more and more exactly what my problems are (seriously can be one of the hardest things!)
I am confident that this emotionally abusive, neglectful, shameful parenting streak will not continue in my family, and that my children will lead much healthier lives than I was granted. But the only way I can assure that is by fully admitting my problems and growing. So this segment of my blog will be dedicated to holding me accountable for the daily emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual growth that will ascent me out of this dark hole I've been hiding in, and out into the world to share my strength and talent with the world and grace it with all I have to offer, just like I've admired so many others doing for so long.
It is my turn to be free.
Sincerely
Julie Maye
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