Buying Love Or Selling Love?There is some good in her and for the majority of my adult life I’ve seen patches of it. Only loyalty and complete devotion to her unlocks this niceness. It’s a typical Scorpio trait.
Buying love or selling love? What was she doing? I didn’t buy it that’s for sure but it confused me. It still confuses me! I got tangled in her web torn between doing what is supposedly the right thing by her and what was the right thing by me.
That introduction to life confused me so much that knowing what a right and wrong decision was, was difficult. I don’t believe I made too many decisions that were obviously right or wrong. I don’t believe as a child you should be judged on your decision making unless you kill somebody or bash somebody, etc and yet we see courts around the world using cotton wool on guys that do commit those ordinary crimes.
It was like I’d murdered someone at times. The guilt attached to me by the dragon (mother) for making basic fundamental mistakes in life was harsh. Were they even mistakes? The world judges, parents shouldn’t! In hindsight the world actually said, ‘Right on man, we salute you’ whilst my mother judged me. I found salvation by running away from home.
It’s all swung around now as I enter a phase of my life where I’m no longer young or old. I’m slowly understanding the truth and it’s sad. The world seems to be more forgiving when you’re younger than what it is when you’re older. People expect you to have things sorted by the time you’re in mid life. Maybe that’s what causes mid life crisis’.
So as my partner sleeps at 3.49 am and relaxes with a few little snores and grunts, I wake tormented by the dragon (mother) and her lies. How do I rid my soul of that woman? Hopefully this process will provide the answers. We all have sleepless nights. We all have our crosses to bear to use a religious term.
Tormenting me this morning is the discovery of a body probably belonging to that of a then 13 year old boy yesterday. He was missing for 3 months and in that time his 14th birthday came and went. When the parents of the boy made their emotional plea on tv for information on his disappearance something didn’t click. The family’s anger at the boys’ disappearance appeared to be the main obvious feeling. Only his sister showed what I would call normal distress at her brother vanishing. It seemed there were problems in the family circle. Shouldn’t despair not anger be the main emotion on display in this situation?
And so yesterday a body is found just 300 metres from the family home and there are no suspicious circumstances surrounding his death. The boy has obviously suicided. Dna will decide whose body it is but who else would it be?
It makes me wonder how I survived my uprising against my mother. Being 24 years ago since I run away from home I can’t remember if taking my life became a possibility once I got out. It was certainly a possibility if I didn’t get out! So run I did.
So what happened to this boy? I did see startling similarities to the dynamics of his family versus mine in just a few short news conferences etc, however, I’m not trying to compare the two families here.
Maybe the boy was beyond salvation.
Maybe another twelve months at my family home would’ve been enough for me to end it all too. I feel for the kid but have reservations about his parents. I hope I’m wrong but it brings back memories of my uprising all those years ago.
I do sincerely hope I’m wrong about this boy and his family.
Talking about problems back then wasn’t an option for me. Talking to anyone outside the family circle would infuriate the dragon no end. Talking to anyone inside the family circle was impossible. I would often be laughed at, mocked or told to toughen up. The dragon was the only one with problems. She was the only one who could vent without receiving prejudice against her. We were simply scared to say “Wake up to yourself and grow up” though we all felt like saying it. It was fine for her to lash us with her distain and make us listen to her problems.
So moving forward is a long process and writing is my outlet. Here I’m anonymous so I can’t bring anymore shame onto the family, or really, mother.
I’ve gone beyond trying to understand what she was thinking all those times and how she justifies heaping torment upon her children.
I can’t change the past. It could have been worse. I appreciate the simple things my mother did for me like putting clothes on my back, food in my belly and a roof over my head. I think it’s still fair to say, though, I would’ve traded all three to have a solid, workable, fair relationship with my mother.