Just because you say so..does not make me disappear…

My family structure from growing up was nothing short of hell..cute..sweet memories wrapped in photos never existed..and never will..no matter how hard some of my family members attempt to create a fantasy novel..out of something which should be classified as a horror novel…

I get the reluctance to say the family name..and to advertise..or even speak in hushed whispers what happened in our childhood..from house to house..to house…yet I cannot deny where I am from..and what happened…

It for too long…years I have lost count on…it has been used against me…used as a means to brutalize…treat me as if I was dirty…and yes..it has come at the hands of those I created…and married..and had a few dates with..yet the greatest punch..the most powerful blow to me..has been siblings..and their need to remind me I am filth..and I carry the crimes of my father..my ex-husband..my sons….

For my younger brother..the one I used to protect..from my father..his distaste of me began when I was taken out to a foster home..it was not until he was in a foster home of nobility..influence and money which convinced him certain members were trash…and to this day he lives it…

He cannot stand..and one can see it on his face..that I do not hate my mother…never will…I get why she ran..and I get why she is told she is a failure..garbage..and a woman..and is it not expected of us..women…?

She ran for her life…she did not stay there and wait till my father killed her..and for that “crime” she paid everyday…and are we not a funny lot..we tell women to get out..run..leave everything behind..you are valuable…and when they run..and have five seconds of seeing value in their life..we spend the rest of the time tearing them into little pieces…smearing them with sauce and then cooking them on the grill..

My younger brother has many things in this life..and by the world terms he is most successful…yet he cannot talk or even be in the same room with any of my siblings..not even the one he sort of likes…and the one person he hates…our father..he is the spitting image of…from head to toe…bottom to top…and acts just like him..funny how that happens…

My sister who is a year older than me..and carries the family blue eyes from my father…also has great angst for me…she never understood why I did not like the fact she slept with my husband..or went after the married men in the church we attended..she now lives this life of scene making..creating a picture..for the audience at hand…one husband after another..until the money is used up..then on to someone else…hmm..that reminds me of someone..my father..use you up and then toss you aside for a better model…or someone who had something he needed…sort of like her…

I know I will get hate mail for speaking unkindly regarding two of my siblings..I guess many would prefer I sit there with my hands folded on my lap..smiling..and say it is deserved…because I did just what my mother did…I ran for my life…something as I have learned..I was not supposed to do…

I was to smile politely..as my husband broke my jaw..sorry for the pun..but then I could not smile then could I….or slept with everything that moved…or my sons knocking me down flights of stairs..breaking ribs…and causing me filthy names..names I will not repeat ever…I guess I just did not get this right..this game…

I demanded as my ex-husband was breaking into my house…and stalking me..that the police protect me..or maybe I misunderstood the words..”protect and serve”…I demanded that I should not have to leave my home and go live in a cubicle…I was told I was wrong by a domestic violence authority…

For many years I ran from what I was..me…I thought it was dirty..and to be honest pretty gross…so I made it my life mission to transform this person and make her what the world wanted…I was the perfect size of 2/4…scary at 5’9″….I attended the right functions..educated myself..so no one would know where and what I came from…the ghetto of New York…

But no matter how long I tried..I always had to deal with where I came from…I had to settle within my self..I was abused..and my father was a piece of work…not a good person..I had to realize I walked right into the arms of an abuser..and had created four other abusers..they had a wonderful teacher….

I had to come to peace..and realize..something my siblings..my ex..my sons..have not gotten…is that I am not where I come from..it is just what happened…and it does not color me in any way…it happened..and I cannot run from it..I can heal from it…and I can grasp that standing all alone…with nothing but my common sense..that I am valuable…and pretty miraculous…I think I just might get a t-shirt like that…

So no matter how many men my sister marries…or buys things..more furniture…clothes and jewelry…she will still be her..from the ghetto with a crappy father..and a mother who fled…just circumstances..not definition…and some day…not that she would ever let anyone know..she is going to need someone…

No matter how many places my brother travels to..cars he buys..and haciendas on the beach..he still is him..the boy from the ghetto..hater of his mother for doing the same thing he did..running..and the spitting image of my father..the man he abhors…

Funny how life comes around that way….

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~ by HopeGlenn on May 3, 2012.

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