"Knowing what I know now, about God and His Sovereignty...
Somewhere there is a heart willing to listen to this story about this little girl, orange carpet, hollyhocks, a small town ...and violence. Somewhere there is surely someone who will read Your story and see the Grace and Mercy in your life...and God will use you to touch that person, for His Glory.

Your story touches my heart, Pat "

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Pig Tales- Stories of a Fat Girl and the Struggles Within- Beginnings pt 2

  this and other posts are not meant to be disrespectful to my mother, it is simply my life.
  I have a few good memories of my mother. At one time she had a sense of humor, a smile, she told jokes... usually highly inappropriate.  She danced, and  danced well. I remember her teaching neighbors how to jitterbug. She especially like to move to "White Lightning" by Jerry Lee Lewis.
I don't know when her love for things, for happiness or at least the quest for it ended. One bad choice to many just sucks the life out of you I guess.

She thought a man would help, divorced from my dad with  a 4 year old, she somehow thought that would fix things. Poor choices led her to that spot and poor choices again effected both our lives.
Some guy was always around, none stayed for long, at least before Bob. Many of those men just happened to be someone's husband. We woke up to the neighbor's glass on the screen door breaking, a woman had thrust her fist through it, we didn't go out to see what was going on until the woman left, you see, her fist was meant for our door.
Less violent was the morning #1 Bitch was written across our living room window in blue crayon. I think I was 7.
Between the years of 4 and 9 I remember a few of the men,
the candy man- he always left a box of Starbursts and some chocolate
the guy who sang
the guy who gave us carpet

and Carl
he lived a couple hours away and mom never drove in fact I have never seen my mother drive. We took weekly train trips to spend the weekend at his house. He was nice enough but he too drank. A lot.
His house was cold, the waterbed I slept in was colder.
He was always remodeling.....nothing changed. Just a piece of plastic hung between the living room and the new addition. Uninsulated...without electricity or heat it just allowed more of that damn cold air in.
It was a small farm and he had goats and a couple horses. One of the goats was due to have babies, I awoke and went in their room, he asked me to go check and see if the babies were there. HE was hungover, SHE was hungover.
Bundled up trodding through snow, I set out to the barn. It was sunny but I could see my breath.

Two small white baby goats lay together, frozen solid to the ground.
The momma bellowing near by.
Tears fell to the ground...the frozen ground  where there was barely any hay, no heater and no blankets.
That isn't even my worst memory of that cold farm.
Drunks shouldn't drive, children shouldn't be in the car, stuck in snowbanks. No one should walk blindly in a blizzard not properly dressed and I cannot recommend spending 8 hours in a bar eating potato chips and pop.

Carl, like the rest of those men, came and went. Little discretion was shown one could say the model for teen age promiscuity was set here.
Mom did settle with someone, she has been with him for years, I don't like him and never did. I wish I could tell you she was happy and that she found contentment.
They live about 3 states away, I nor my children have seen my mother in over 11 years. We speak occasionally and that is sufficient. I am not cold I am protected.

I once read a quote, I cannot find it exactly now but it is, I believe, from the book Malignant Self  Love, it was something to this effect.
having a narcissist for a mother is a bit like having a 6 year old who has a doll for your mother.  The point  being made is that a 6 year old doesn't really think outside of themselves. The doll is for them...for show....for their needs. Just a doll, a doll to be dropped on the floor and trampled over when it is no longer needed, or when something better comes along.  When I first read that I was moved to tears, not because it hurt as much as it validated what I had always thought. Hurt was real, rejection was real.
I have much more to tell you but let me tell you this first. I am well.  I have been married for 23 years and have two fantastic children that I love dearly. Our house is normal, whatever that means. God is continually healing me and he is the only one who can.
I am a little girl that needed a better mommy
a mommy that is trying the best she can
a daughter who is healing
 a wife who is faithful
a sinner saved by grace


Ames said...

I am drawn in. I am not comparing myself to your mother but I often wondered how my own daughter felt being raised by a single young mother always working just to pay the day care, and never received child support. I didn't marry until she was 10. I didn't date until she was 10....like I said I am not comparing my self to your mother but I wonder how my own daughter really felt. She went without a lot of things, maybe this is why she gives so much to her own children now. She is a wonderful mommy. She battled her weight as a child, same as you, she still does. And so do I now. I am going to get back to the story now. Hugs~Ames

mzzterry said...

Congrats on just allowing your past to flow from within that place that it still lives, deep inside you. I write about my past in stories I call "Little Girl Lost" my past includes an alcoholic dad, a mom who was/is kept within her place by his abuses. I have many stories to tell too...but i haven't chosen to share them yet. I. too, have moved on and am happy and healthier now. God Bless you, I empathize in very real ways.