I am very small. My siblings are gathered around me in our parent's bedroom by the bed. They are pleading with me to go out into the hallway.
Mother is in the hallway. I am afraid to go out there: mother is on the floor, slouched against the wall, legs drawn up to her chest, sobbing and moaning and screaming. Mother has a large knife pointed at her chest and is threatening to use it.
Siblings want me to go reason with mother, since I am her favorite, they say... only I can convince her to put the knife down... every time one of the three of them attempts to reason with mother, mother threatens to kill herself.
Eventually they manage to get me to go to mother. I go out there and beg and plead and start crying and finally mother puts the knife down and asks me to come to her.
I dont remember anything past that.
*****
that is my first memory. And the rest, as they say, is herstory.
Gender Fuck Thursday: Aunt Gladys Edition
2 days ago
1 comment:
Mmm. My mom was unstable too, tho she mostly threatened to kill me rather than herself, and came close a few times. For whatever reason, I think your situation was far worse. No matter, it sucks being the child of neglect or abuse. Do you like to read? If so, can I recommend a few? Thich Nhat Hanh's, "No Death, No Fear" and "Internal Family Systems" by Richard C. Schwartz. Maybe you want to give yourself a holiday gift? Hang tough, baby. What immortal hand or eye...
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