Liberation

I have been told I am an extrovert

Here I am writing this, baring my soul but wanting to keep a little of who I am to myself for fear you dear reader, will misunderstand me... but here I go,jumping into the pool head first anyway.

I am a free spirit. I don't think my parents had any idea what they were dealing with when they dealt with me. One of the big problems was, in my parents case, they were  children raising children. (As my sister Ava said she and her husband had thought when I sent my sister my moms Journal.)

My parents weren't very young, but the mentality in that family felt like, at least to me that it was total control or annialation. For those of you who've watched Star Trek...its the Borg  "resistance is futile" scenario...haha.( Oh no....my husband dragged me into the Star Trek series kicking and screaming "NERD"! and now I'm putting it in my blog.:P Uh oh..I may have just become a trekkie.:p, NOT! I will never be assimilated into the collective! lol)

Years ago working at the Bon (Before it was macys) There were times that these lil old ladies would try to haggle with me about price...How could they do such a thing, the price was fixed! by the time I was done with them I would tell them "have a nice day" and REALLY be thinking "Go TO HELL!"

You ever have people who are difficult to deal with if you work with the public? tell them "Have a nice day" but think what I think. You can really smile because they have no clue whats really in your head. Twisted? Maybe. But it sure feels good:p

These lil old ladies would leave HUGE piles of clothes in the dresing rooms, especially on sale days. They would just unload and leave all the crap for me deal with. I would clean out the rooms, arms aching, feeling like I didn't want to deal with the mess, just wanted to GO HOME and forget all about it.

This journal is kinda like that,

Its a big load of crap that I don't want to deal with. I haven't wanted to for over 20 years. Its going to make my head ache, my mind numb and my heart break all over again. But its time.

The arms that used to ache from no real hugs and my heart that had no real love has been filled with SO many good things.

Now Its time to unload.

 You have to realize that I HAD to become a VERY strong personality in order to survive, living in that  house. I had to do that quite quickly or I would have lost myself and who I was completely. The shy, QUIET, sullen,withdrawn kid that wasn't me at  all that they (the whole family) forced me to be couldn't be kept "in the basement" for long, I was like a guiser....everything building up until...BOOM!  They crossed me one too many times and that was IT! I fought back when I was abused and beaten with everything I had in me.

Even with that said, I never had a chance to even learn how to defend myself. I was on guard ALL the time.
I am still not very good in hostile situations. BUT I have learned to stand up for myself and am better at it than I used to be.

This "journal" is MEANT to single me out, as usual, once again. My hackles begin to rise every time I read parts of it and I realize, something is just not right here.

Today, this and last week,(And probobly the week before that) I have been trying to piece together the mystery that was my my life, back then. My memories are very few, (Although I am remembering them with more and more clarity, and so many of them now that I have almost 200 headings I'm writing on) ) but what I do remember visually is very vivid. I tend to remember things that are VERY visual.

I've been trying to put together the mystery  that is my moms "journal".

Trying to put together the puzzle. Look past the charade, And I have so many thoughts about it thats its overwhelmed me. If I let it, it could take over my life like a black hole and drag me under. But the more I look at it, the more I realize just how brainwashed my mother was, and still is...

I wrote all over that journal with the thoughts I had when I read it this time around. I read it for the first time since I laid eyes on it about 20 years ago, angry and feeling so betrayed. This time, writing on it felt like I was calling her on her lies. On the entries that SHOULD have been there about my father beating me calling her bluff.. actually feels damn GOOD, like desecrating something that was meant to destroy you but instead is turned around on the attacker and it liberates you.

Thank God For liberation.

By the time I'm done with this beast that is my moms journal I have a feeling I'll be singing with Martin Luther King "Free AT Last" Thank God Almighty I'm FREE AT LAST!"

So let it begin.