Go go go go now
Out of the nest
It's time
Go go go now
Circus girl without a safety net
Here here now
Don't cry
You raised your hand for the assignment
Tuck those ribbons under your helmet
Be a good soldier
First my left foot
Then my right behind the other
Pantyhose
Running in the cold

Mother the car is here
Somebody leave the light on
Black Chariot for the redhead
Dancing dancing girl

And when I dance for him
Somebody leave the light on just in case
I like the dancing
I can remember where I come from

I walked into your dream
And now I've forgotten how to dream my own dream
You are the clever one aren't you
Brides in veils for you
We told you all of our secrets
All but one
So don't you even try
The phone has been disconnected
Dripping with blood
And with time
And with your advice
Poison me against the moon
Mother the car is here
Somebody leave the light on
Black Chariot for the redhead
Dancing dancing girl

And when I dance for him
Somebody leave the light on just in case
I like the dancing
I can remember where I come from

I escape into your escape
Into our very favorite fearscape
It's across the the sky
And across my heart
And I cross my legs
Oh my God
First my left foot
Then my right behind the other
Breadcrumbs lost under the snow
Mother
Mother the car is here
Somebody leave the light on
Somebody leave the light on just in case
I like the dancing
Mother

 

 

 

I think I just might, gasp, start blogging here again.  I want a private space, a space I can call my very own.  I have other blogs and this one, obviously, gets neglected.  My dream has always been to write.  From a very young age I have always wanted to tell my story.  Why would a young child want to write a book about herself?  Is it vanity?  Did I really think that my life was that interesting? The answer is not simple but neither is my life.  I know I've written about my mother on multiple occasions but, at the time, I was sure that the problem was me.  My mother hates me, is disgusted by me so, oh my god, I must be this horrible, wretched, vile disgusting piece of shit.  My mother doesn't love me, doesn't care so I must be unlovable.  I spent 23 years thinking that there was something wrong with me because if my own mother is disgusted by me then it must be my fault. My entire life I thought if I could just tweak myself a little bit then maybe she would love me, maybe she would look at me and actually fucking see me instead of looking right through me.  If I could just be the very best little girl in the whole wide world maybe she wouldn't be mad, maybe she would be in a good mood.  I walked on eggshells and so did my sister.  I do not know where I would be without my sister. My sister and I have helped one another to see through that insanity that is our mother.  We can talk to one another about her insanity, both past and present, and know that we are not the ones that are crazy, we are not making all of this up to make our poor poor mother look bad.  We are not imagining, and have not, imagined our lives. 

 

 

It wasn't until I finally recovered from my eating disorder that I began to understand that my disorder did a damn good job of covering up my past.  I learned very quickly that if I was visibly unwell then my mother cared, my mother became my knight in shining armor battling with the insurance companies and doing her motherly duties.  The second I was in treatment she stopped caring and the same monster mother came out to play. She used to tell me that I was a sociopath and that I disgusted her and that she didn't know how something like that could come from her body when all she did was love me.  She was a single mother and not a day went by that she didn't remind us of how hard she worked and how much she sacrificed to raise us and that she could have such a nice life if it weren't for us.  The earliest memory I have of my mother is of her explaining what an abortion meant and telling me that her friends' wanted her to have one and that she probably should have but that we'd make it work.  For the majority of my life I had this image of my mother in my head, it was of her standing in the doorway to our bedroom with her fists clenched while she screamed.  I, eventually, pushed it aside and went on with my life.  I asked my sister about this and she said that that was when things got really bad. 

 

There are so many other memories that I just pushed aside because they were too painful, I suppose.  I desperately held onto the ideal mother, a mother who loves me unconditionally. 

 

A few months into my recovery I began having these dreams.  I wouldn't particularly call them nightmares because the content was not particularly terrifying.  They all had the same theme: my mother.  In some I would be in a store and couldn't find my mother and I was sobbing and searching for my mother, panicked because I knew she would be furious with me(she used to leave me in stores if I took too long).  In some I would do something wrong, it was always something as simple as not putting a dish in the dishwasher before going to school and I spent the entire dream terrified that my mother was going to kill me. The situation was always different but the end result was the same: my mother left me somewhere or that she was going to kill me.  I started seeing a therapist who did EMDR on something completely unrelated but it brought up more than I could handle.  I began dissociating and was barely functional.  Long story short I finally took my diagnosis of depersonalization disorder seriously and began researching other symptoms I have and everything came coming back to emotional abuse.  I didn't want to believe it, couldn't believe it.  My sister had sent me a book on emotional abuse and so I read it and called her and asked her if she thought our mother was emotionally abusive and she said, "oh, absolutely." I went through a couple of therapists and finally found one that was helpful. I began seeing a semi-new therapist in September and after one session describing my mother he immediately said that it sounded like she is narcissistic and/or borderline. I immediately looked up children of toxic parents, daughters of narcissistic/borderline mothers and was just absolutely blown away as my mother oozed from the pages.  I sent my sister links to various articles and she, too, agreed that that sounded like our mother. 

 

I've sort of been in a state of shock since because, having to change everything you've ever believed about yourself and your life, is really fucking hard.  Having to accept that I did not, and will not, have a mother is utterly devastating. 

 

I have still sort of been in denial but have had to recently move back in with my mother due to a house fire.  I lost everything I own aside from what was in my car and my dog.  I had time to get my roommate and my puppy and, in the five minutes I was in the house I had inhaled enough smoke and there was CO2 in my blood and my airways were SLIGHTLY burned.  I ran from my home barefoot and carrying my dog as it exploded.  My therapist, sister and everyone else in my life has been adamant about me getting out of her house.  When I do I am going to cut her out of my life and tell my story.  I never could tell my story because I knew how angry my mother would be.