There are many many shattered families out there. And I am part of one.
I am part of a big group that shares DNA but really nothing else but
that. We don't get together for the holidays or birthdays not because we
live so far away from each other. It's not because we don't love each
other (i am hopping that's not the case), its because we can't be around
each other. A therapist would have a field day with this family. They
would be rich beyond their dreams getting my family on the couch.
I guess my sentimental and memories are washing over me because my mom is
in the hospital and she had a mild stroke. We haven't been speaking but
that's nothing new in our relationship. If I don't please her in my
appearance or don't tell her what she wants to hear then she gets angry
and tells me to never come back. The last time she did that I walked away
knowing I would not walk back into her life without a fight. Because it
was always me that bent to her wishes no matter what and I became the
daughter always wanting her mothers love. After that last fight I didn't
want to be that weak person anymore. And it's been fine. It still is fine
with me. Besides getting beat up physically I was always beat up
emotionally too. Always trying to please and getting kicked around for
that. The more I tried the more I got socked in the face.
My memories go to beatings from my father and my mom never stopping him.
2x4's were used, belts were used, and slaps with my fathers huge hands
were used. Maybe not 2x4's but being a little girl that wood looked big
to me. There was something about me that didn't fit. My grandmother saw
it. I remember hearing her telling someone that she didn't understand why
her son and wife were the hardest on me. I remember her protecting me by
hiding be behind her so my father couldn't reach me for punishment. I
loved my grandmother she was my protector. When she would leave I knew
that the punishment would be hard and fast because she wasn't around to
protect me. Somehow memories of my Cousin Laurie is in my mind to as my
protector. It's like when she was around she voiced her opinion about dad
or mom being nicer to me. Till she left too. But I remember my dad
telling me I would never be like her. He wouldn't allow it. Just a mess.
I don't seem to have good memories of love in my household at all. Only
when my grandmother or cousin was around I felt protected.
I remember the Bochecchio family. How we went over to their home. So
full of love. Toys and love and how I envied Robbie and Valerie. I
wanted to be a part of their family so badly. Angie and Bob their parents
were always loving with hugs and kisses and I loved their lives. Maybe
stuff happened behind closed doors there also. But in my child's eyes I
saw love. And I never wanted to leave. But the minute we left how was I
the one always in trouble. How is it that something I did or said got me
in trouble. Never understood it. Never wanted to leave when it was time
because I knew I was always in trouble. What did I do? I could never
remember how not picking up a toy or saying I wanted to stay was not
allowed. How did that get me a beating or the silent treatment or a
lecture.
When my grandmother died I remember that day. I was in Florida, in the
family room at the house in Tealwood Cove. I heard the news and the
scream that came from the bottom of my soul was an inhuman sound. I
remember not having anyone come and comfort me. I knew my protector was
gone. I knew that the last thing she said to me was my only comfort. She
said, "I love you." That was when I saw her last on the last trip to
Florida and then its like I blinked and she was gone forever. So simple
but the most heartfelt. No more grandmother. No more cousin because she
was in New York. No more protection.
So now dad is leaving. Now my mom is stepping up not as a mother. But
lots and lots of anger. Beatings, humiliation, and never love. Met a
family. They took the place of my protectors. Don't even know why? The
Dowlings. I don't know what they saw. I don't know if in my mind if I
just felt protected when they were around. I liked them. I liked being
in their presence. But then we moved.
I remember a sister, Christine, I remember her face cringes when my mother
was in a rage about me. It's like she had my grandmother's spirit in her
trying to deflect my mothers rage toward me by being that perfect girl my
mother wanted so badly that she would leave me alone. Something shattered
in me the day she dies. The other half of my soul. My grandmothers death
took half and my sister took the other half from me. That was the time my
mother told me that she should have drowned me at birth. Because her
perfect daughter was gone and it was my fault. So that is my fault and my
burden that it wasn't me. Only one time I remember Christine being
spanked and I say spanked because it wasn't one of my beatings but spanked
and Christine ran to hide and I sat next to her saying that I would always
protect her if it ever got worse but I would always take the worst from
her. She hugged me and smiled and we went outside. I can honestly say
that I lived with that knowledge for the longest time that if it was me
everyone may have been happier. I feel right now a twinge of that guilt
but I don't think honestly that my mother has ever gotten over being left
me when Christine was gone. A lot more words were said, and a lot more
anger but to put it done right now would make me so very sad and I would
have to bring the honesty up front that I still absolutely feel like I was
a wasted life when my sister might have and could have made my mom a
loving person instead of having me as a reminder that she was left me.
Now Pembrook Drive house. A house of horrors for me. Not only was I
being beaten and humiliated in the house. I was being bullied outside the
house too. Joseph and Dominick were like the golden children, oh they had
their shares of trouble when it came to mom. But I was the scapegoat more
often then not. Not their faults. It was me. That's how I grew up.
Never pretty enough. Never good enough. Never loved enough. I was never
taught about hygiene, I was never talked to about boys, I was thrown into
the garage to live for a couple of months. Beaten because a dirty dish
was left in the sink, woken up in the middle of the night and having
knives thrown at me.The boys were told to beat me. Not with just a belt
but the buckle of a belt. I remember my mom telling me I was ugly
constantly. That I had freckles because I never washed my face. I
remember wanting to die. I remember all the kids making fum of me. How
they called me "flat face" or "Chinese chipmunk". I was Vietnamese and
stupid and ugly. So my mom was right. Others saw it, I remember the
beatings I took from classmates. I don't ever ever remember my mom
sticking up for me. Going down to the school and telling them off. I
remember her saying that's life and you have to live with it.
I remember being rapped by one of the men in my mothers life. I didn't
know it then. But right now at this moment I know she sent that man to
me, to pick me up in a van to take away my virginity and to drop me back
off humiliated. I remember going on my annual summer visit to NY and
thinking I was pregnant the whole summer, I had no one to ask about that.
Can I prove it. No. Can I sit here and say in this one paragraph I know
its true. NO! But its my feelings. This one paragraph is my truth.
Because after this happened she always accused me of sleeping with one of
her boyfriends. And that wasn't right. Because her boyfriends never
talked to me never came near me. Never made me feel sexually wanted. But
she always accused me of sleeping with them.
So I tried killing myself. Hell couldn't even do that right. My mom told
me do it right if your going to do it. Then she slapped me. So I tried 7
or more times. And that disappointed my mom the most. At this time my
sister was gone. My life was a nightmare that I couldn't get out of. So
off to my father I go. Then wonderful new world of California.
Life in California with my dad. Something can be said for freedom. My
father wasn't hitting me anymore he just had a indifference toward me. I
thought he was just being easy on me. Giving me freedom and being quiet
about it. He put me in therapy and I didn't say a word in those therapy
sessions. I was frightened to put my truths out there for someone else to
judge that it was all me. But my father didn't acknowledge anything from
my upbringing to me neither. So lets keep silent and quiet and just be a
good daughter. I took his car for joyrides, he caught me but didn't beat
me for it. I got a ticket for jaywalking and he stuck up for me. I grew
unafraid of my dad. I grew to love him in my silent ways. He met someone
he loved, so he left me alone a lot. Fine with me I was finding my own
way. I was finding love. I wanted my boyfriends love. I found myself
and I didn't. Does that make sense? I have one memory that frightened me
some but I still have to put that in perspective to bring that forward.
Maybe I was imagining things wanting to see the worst on that memory. But
that one memory made me feel very uncomfortable and that is the only
memory I question. But stupid me was still unsettled. We moved in with
Kathy and her daughter. Elena had the friends, had the mother who loved
her. I knew Kathy liked me. I stayed quiet. I didn't cause any trouble.
She was kind to me. But living together with a family that gave me
freedom and didn't beat me maybe I was good enough to go back home now to
my own mother and get her love. I longed to be back with my mom. Like
Elena had her own mom. Stupid me. Stupid stupid stupid. What might have
I done if I stayed put. I went right back into my nightmare except now I
was to big to be beaten. But I still was so open to it emotionally.
That's it for right now. So much more to bring forth. But I don't know
when this will continue but right now I need to think and rest my head.
When the memories come they come in spurts. Right now they are coming to
fast for me to handle. And this is it for tonight.
MyLinh
