Written on February 21st, 2011
While growing up my mother was generally not there, or didnt want to be... She was always out with some guy trying to get attention while i sat at home starting at age 9 or 10 babysitting my sister. She would go off and come back drunk or high after having her good time to pass out asleep before we could do much of anything. When we did something remotely bad she would get the "wooden spoon" which was just that... a big wooden spoon... and she would beat me and my sister with it until we were crying for her to stop because about half the time we didnt know what we did... As i grew up i learned and at about age 12 one day she had gotten the wooden spoon to beat us, and i grabbed it out of her hand in rage, and broke it over my knee... i then proceeded to the kitchen and broke every utensil that had a wooden handle over my knee... That seemed to make her understand the pain she was causing me and my sister, or so i thought... About 2 years later after having an argument with her, she raised her hand and slapped me across the face, and actually left a bruise. This continued til i was about 17 when one day she slapped me, and i started to come back at her, as if i was going to beat her to death with my bare hands... She threatened to call the police on me for assault if i came any closer to her than i already was... So i left and didnt see her for nearly 3 months... At the suggestion of her side of the family I started talking to her again, though the threats of being disowned by my grand parents whom i dearly loved did have an effect on my decision. And now today i live with her and partially support her through her Paranoid Schizophrenia, though love is not in my vocabulary for describing our relationship... Loathing, Hatred, Rage, and Despise yes.