Flashbacks

It has been over forty years and there are still triggers to the time when I was a young child. My mother has outlived all but one child and though at 91 years of age I gave her credit at times for her survival beyond the normal. I have come to look at suicide a little differently over the years. I don't think it Is normally a cry for help but a manipulative and selfish move. My mother asked recently why am I still here. I wanted to shout " because you are being punished for what you did to six children." She has been using threats of suicide as means of manipulation . If I don't take her in she will kill herself etc. Her behavior has brought to surface the many bad memories but one in particular.
I was ten years old. My age of awakening. Though I have seen my mother extremely violent situations from breaking objects, throwing things to threatening with a gun and knife, this one moment haunts me. Mother wasn't your typical loving parent even when we were ill it was my father who paced the floor holding us and trying to calm us down. He has this hum sound ahhh haa ahhh haa in a slow way to try to calm. One night my mother and father were arguing and my mother came into my bedroom she laid a butcher knife and she slid it under my bed pillow and than got up without removing the knife. I got up for school the next morning and as I began to make my bed I peaked under the pillow to find the butcher knife still there. I was afraid to touch it or move It in anyway. I put the pillow back over it and went off to school. Wondering as I had many times whether my mother would succeed in killing my father or herself.  I couldn't help but look under the pillow when I got home to find out that the knife had been removed.
With my mothers current threats of suicide I find myself caught fresh in the  memory of the butcher knife under my pillow and standing behind her as she shot through the doorway of the bedroom at my father. There were so many bad memories but these two haunt me more than even some of the worst ones. I want them to go away but they are with me day and night. I want to be free of them but they repeat themselves over and over in my head.

Skeletons

The irony my mother who has attempted suicide and been suicidal throughout life has lived far beyond 5 of her 6 children. My nephew said the Lord don't want her and the devil is afraid she will take over. Brings to light what is fair or is justice of fairness even a part of life. 91 years old she attempted to murder my father more times than I care to count and now she sits in the seat of manipulation. If you don't do this or you don't do that , If I can't live with you I will kill myself. I have called the police a few times to do good will check ups . But when is it "crying wolf" and when will she attempt it once more. I find it completely frustrating.
It is difficult to be responsible for a woman who is not only violent at times, manipulative at others but in need of some kind help obviously. I felt like I put the past to rest but somehow she has managed to stir up the worst of memories and my distrust for her.
I stood behind when she pulled a shot gun out on my father aimed and fired. Have been there when she threatened with a axe. I am sure he must have a gene connection to Lizzi Borden.
I have come to the realization that nothing is more valuable than peace of mind. I think am I wrong this time to calling her bluff? Should I allow her to continue to spew hatred ? Manipulation?, threats? anger ?
I was completely upset this morning. It is nothing a person wants to hear at 7 am as they are opening their eyes. I have no idea what her mental health issue is, partially manic depressive , narcist surely some kind of personality disorder. I still mourn the loss of my eldest sister. The only person left who understood, who experienced and who knew the complete background of the skeletons in the closet.
Those who think I should do more, have truly no understanding of what we endured and what I still endure.

April 23

What am I feeling? Vulnerable !!!!

Vulnerability

"Vulnerability is a universal aspect of the human condition, arising from our embodiment and our location within society and its institutions. On the individual level, vulnerability refers to the ever-present possibility of harm, injury or biological impairment or limitation. "

Time , we only have so much time, with that comes a certain amount of fear. What am I afraid of ? That the story needs to be told , completed. I am not looking to create a Utopia but hopefully allow more people to be free of the chains that domestic violence places on the soul. For more people to find that peace within and hold on to it, like a blanket of comfort.  Rid the world of mental health! "some say i'm a dreamer"

Responsibility

My eldest sister has passed and the irony is all of my siblings are gone and my mother at 91 survives. My mother asked why am I still here? I wanted to say that " it is your punishment" and I bit my lip. Though I do think it is karma, though I am not sure how she feels as I think of her as a selfish person. Losing my eldest sister has to be the hardest. She is the one who encouraged me to write our story. How did we survive as long as we did? The more I explored domestic violence, the more I realized it touched all walks of life and to various degrees. It is true that you can't compare and apple to an orange, that one person's pain is no more or less than another. We put it under the title or chapter "different" we are all different with our own stories, but our emotions are he same.
My loss of my eldest feels greater in pain. Many reasons for that , when I was a child she was more mother than my own mother, caretaker, responsible for our well being. She left the house as a teenager 'minor emancipation" though we were not allowed to have contact with her. I remember finding ways to see her . You hold on to a good moment because there are so many bad ones.
One memory, I was all of ten years old and she took me shopping. It was my first real outfit. I remember the moment even though it is now 51 years ago. She took me to sears and I can clearly see the day and remember in detail the outfit. It was my first grown up outfit and not a hand me down. The skirt was a purple pink and green plaid pleated skirt, the kind that was popular with the large brass pin. I had a soft pink silk blouse and a purple vest with brass button to match. ahh but more important was the grown up under clothing. I remember thinking for sure I was at the age where you are part adult and part child. I know we grew up in some ways faster than most children. I think children of abusive households do grow up faster.
 My mother gets all the sympathy cards but she hadn't spoken to my sister in the last twelve  years. Not like I blamed lex , sometimes it is just "enough is enough" I think God left me last to continue to tell the story , if only to help one person than my time on earth will have made some sense. My sister Lex had a heavy responsibility to over look and make sure we were safe. I know my pain is not greater than anyone else's or that my story is somehow worse than anyone else. I keep asking myself how can I make a difference? I have held fundraisers , tried to raise awareness and still so much is not done yet. We need to chip away at the negativity in the world, drugs, alcohol and violence even sickness. Where do we start? How do we start? There are charity organizations and people out there to help. Maybe it is just not enough. We are living in a different world , the world of technology. Does this help or hurt the cause ? If we take down walls and share in our stories than we removed fear and maybe even chiseled away at the stigma attached. In a room of strangers everyone has a story. How do we fix it? I keep asking myself the same question over and over.

" The Last Mohican"

I am not one to place blame but I do think my siblings really didn't have a chance at a life without turmoil. You read about breaking the cycle of abuse and in many ways though not impossible it is quite difficult. It has a lot to do with survival skills and how to handle the down side of life. When you are not taught how to handle stress , you find yourself falling into patterns of familiarity.
I myself have never been a winter person . It is the dark with gray skies, the down time and to much to time to think that triggers the negativity that weighs the soul down.
I find myself saying goodbye over and over in my mind. By the time I put one death to rest I find myself dealing with another. I have always looked at my brother and sisters through the eyes of a ten year old. The age where you have one foot in childhood and one in adulthood and where hope still stands a chance.

How many tears must fall
to erase the pain and ache?
Where memories flourish
and sorrow deep remains.

Can't rewrite history,
nor alter the script called life,
moving forward with the day
in hopes of making it right.

I wiped the tear of sorrow.
moved it from my cheek
and in my heart it still remains
in the time that looks so bleak.

Domestic Violence, Abuse and how it affects children.

I am in deep sorrow as I write this. My youngest sister was in need of help but help did not come soon enough. Her last visit to Pennsylvania, it was obvious she was on drugs prescription or street drugs. She went to my mother's who said to her" you no longer exist, you are not my daughter." My younger sister never went anywhere without her dog but on Labor day in September of 2016 she drove into the pathway of a Santa Fe Cargo train in a rural town in New Mexico.  It severed her spine , punctured her lungs and she died being prepared for lifeflight. There are unknown answers, did she try to beat the train, was it suicide ? I may never know the answers but her pet wasn't with her. They sent her ashes back after the autopsy and no service was held. It was like her life didn't matter or that she didn't exist. I had a difficult time with it  , somehow I couldn't bring closure. So many unanswered questions and such a violent and lonely way to pass away.
When we were children we were swimming in the river and my father wasn't in sight. We had to be all of five and nine years old. Barge sent waves which knocked my sister off the float. The waters dark and I couldn't see her or find her. I saw her hand reach out of the water and I pulled her close to me. She was horrified. We never spoke about that for years and than one day she thanked me and said you saved my life in the river and again when I needed someone. She was a handful and yes that is what family does ..reaches out to help. But this time with the train accident I felt I didn't do enough to help, that just maybe if I would have tried she wouldn't have been in New Mexico. But all in all you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. I once told her you can run the world over but you have to be able to look in the mirror and like what was looking back. She obviously had a difficult time as she searched for a life of happiness and kept turning it into her own personal hell.
I never thought I would be the "last mohican " or the last man standing. I must say it is quite difficult to see and end to all your siblings.
I think about Andrea almost on a daily basis, before the accident i would think she was having the last laugh on the beach with a umbrella drink and well it seemed wherever she went disaster followed. Maybe the journey for her had come to an abrupt end because this was her story. All I know for sure is that mental health is at an all time high and not enough is known and not enough help is out there. How many more people would seek help if they knew that there would not be a stigma , a label?
I guess sometimes tell those who need to hear it that we love them. So if anything I do hope that those who need help find it and that everyone remind themselves to say I love you to those closest to them. " I love you" three words that just might make a difference in someone's day or even more so in their life.
We all have struggles, what separates are those who now to deal with the struggle and those who don't. Every tear that falls is filled with memories, heartache, sorrow despair and the pain that comes with saying once more to a sister. Forgiveness is a healing tool not just for those who need forgiven but for ourselves, to heal and ease the mind.

...the long and winding road.

Violence is an equal opportunity employer

I haven't written for awhile. It seems like I am just overcoming the death of my father and brother. I have thought recently about elderly parents who were abusive and now seek your help in their later lives. I don't necessarily think it has to do with forgiveness. It is not whether I forgive my mother or not but that she still can be quite manipulative. I can't allow myself to be put in that position and so cruel as it may seem, I do the minimum I have to. I make sure she has her needs met, housekeeper, nurse, food etc but I refuse to let her move in.
When I look back at the abuse  my father was with my siblings, my mother a hundred times more abusive with him. Men don't want to talk about it. Be it shame or embarrassment they rarely tell anyone. Why did he stay well I asked my sister that question. My mother was alway suicidal and my father was afraid of her hurting herself, so when I wanted to take a knife or a gun from her she in turn would use it on him. What we call abuse my father called discipline. So in his mind he was loving his children. On the other hand my mother was over the board violent. I stopped writing because a few comments , one said " get over it" and another said " that it all had to be a lie" and yet another said great fictional story telling. " Unless you grew up in such a domestic violent situation I am sure you can't comprehend what goes on almost daily in many homes. People think of a death by murder and say oh how awful but for us attempted murder was on a regular basis. She almost succeeded in taking him out. Sad situation that happens way more often than I would like to admit.
Many children grow up to live full lives and never tell what goes on behind close doors. Other children are affected in different ways.
Time is passing by so quickly and I think what else can we do to change the world. I had wished my father would  had a computer in his day. He might have found away out or a way to get help , financially , physically and in the mental health capacity.
My brothers passing was troubling. He never received the help he truly needed and still to this day when he told the psychiatrist what happen and she said "when you are ready to tell me the truth I'll listen. " He made up a  lie about being a prisoner of war when he was in the military, that was easier for her to believe than the truth. What can you do when those who should help don't?
Memories come  little by little and some things that I had forgotten surface. It gives me more in depth look at lives of children raised in domestically abusive households.
I have one sister left she is on dialysis awaiting a kidney transplant. We have gotten much closer over the last few years in away I never expected. She fills in the blanks of the years I was to young to remember. It is therapy when she is here and I talk with her which is everyday. Who else better understands than a sibling who endured the same situation.
I wanted to add a little bit of info. as I meet people who have endured situations that are similar. It takes and incredible source of strength to overcome the violence in the home and yet it does flow over into our current lives. I became very aware how partners or spouses can push buttons that trigger an episode. Yet I don't believe we should walk on egg shells trying to prevent such.
Can we get out of a difficult situation, with divorce at an all time high you would think that those in abusive situations would easily get out. Fear is the number one reason that you should get out and the number one reason people don't. Education is key not to place blame but to guide and bring about alternatives for those living in domestically violent homes.
Thank you all for hanging there and wish you all well.