With Much Trepadition

Looming large on the horizon is a trip I know I must take. It is not one that I desire to take, not one that I am sure will be tranquil. No, instead it is more likely to be harsh. Even under a warm summer sun, there are some hearts that cannot be thawed.

My mother is such a person.

Not many warm fuzzy memories spring to mind when I think back on my childhood. A ringing begins in my ears, just as her shrill screaming used to do. The noise in that house was unending. Always a radio, a television, her voice.

Now as an adult I prize silence. I cannot bear to have a television on while I am talking to someone, especially if it is an important conversation. If the radio should play sad songs, then I am eager to change the station. The unending whining of a country song is enough to drive me to madness. Again memories linked to growing up on skyline drive.

The anger could burn you alive. The strife could bring you to your knees. The hurt left you bleeding, crying out in a never ending darkness for help that would never come. Bruises and a broken heart stayed with me all the days of my childhood.

In all of the madness when I was fighting to stay above the water, I pushed away the one person that could have been my friend. My sister and I were living in the same house, but we were never close. Our mother drove us apart with her words and actions. As we grew older I shunned my sister. I eventually abandoned her in the by then always empty house. This is one of my biggest regrets.

I am damaged, yet I persist.

I am hurt, yet I close the wounds as best I can.

My heart was shattered long before any man stepped in to further crush the shards.

Memories are like constant movies. Always replaying scenes from most of my life. They leave me reeling from the shock that I was once this other person. I cannot shake free the chains that my memories have become. I fear that in my older years I may be permanently trapped in the halls of yesterday. Those halls are not always clean or cheery or fun. More often than not they are covered in vomit or semen or echoes of anger.

It is hard to come to terms with who I am compared to who I was. I was very often a hateful, spiteful, vengeful person. How have I come to this place that I now stand?

And like a dutiful daughter I will make this pilgrimage to see my mother. My mother who has let reality slip away. Who remains confused and convinced she was really doing her best. She couldn't help it, never thought to seek out help. Or even better, what about all those close family friends that turned a blind eye?

I will take my youngest two kids into a situation that I have no idea how it will go. Like an improve actress, I will try to follow the ever changing script. To conquer and prevail with a cheerful manner and warm tone. When really on the inside I am still that little girl who doesn't understand why her mother hates her so.