Part 5, dysfunctional families
By RiverRei on April 20, 2014
Happy Easter everyone! I hope everyone recieved lots of tasty chocolate and other candies while celebrating zombie Jesus Day! I don't mean to offend anyone with that, I celebrate the rising of Jesus as well, it's just meant to be humorous. Anyway, here is the next block in my story. We are finally getting to some entertaining drama now, I just hope it doesn't come across as whining, that is not my intention. Enjoy this portion and let me know what you think of my journey so far. :)
My family is a normal five person home. Well, not anymore because my parents are divorced, but we were. I have a brother that's four years older than me, who I'll call Carl, and another brother who is about two years younger than I am, who I'll call Alex. My dad is 30 years older than me, and seven years older than my mother. On the outside, it seemed like a perfectly normal family; but behind closed doors, there was a lot of dark things going on. The most obvious was the fighting between my parents before they separated when I was 17. For as long as I can remember, they fought. My mom would yell and my dad would yell back. They fought all the time, it seemed like.
My mom was crazy; and still is. I haven't spoken with her in five years, and I don't plan on breaking that streak any time soon. She always had to be the victim in every situation. The sexual assault portion of my life – no, my past, is definitely a major portion of the trauma I have faced. However, my mother has also caused a lot of damage that is irreversable. So much so, that I haven't really ever spoken to my fiancé about her and is always surprised when I do mention her. All he knows is that she has been a poor mother to me and my brothers, and that she is no longer a part of my life.
I normally talk to my fiancé about everything. He even gets annoyed sometimes about it. So the fact I never really talk to him about my mother, he knows it's a big deal. It's going to be even more difficult for me to type out than the abuse. I was her only daughter, and all she did was treat me like I was dirt. She always treated me much worse than she did my brothers. I even confronted my dad about it once after she had moved out and he agreed but didn't have an explanation for it or even a reason why he didn't stop her from treating me so badly.
All I knew was that I was never enough for her. If I could afford to lose 10 pounds, then I should do it. I was always on a diet because of her. It's no wonder that I've had some sort of eating disorder my whole life. In high school I barely ate. I wouldn't eat breakfast, my mom would give me money to buy lunch at school but I would give it to a friend who couldn't afford lunch. All I asked was that he bring me back a bunch of pickles. That was my lunch; mountain dew and pickles through most of high school. Our dinners were like that as well. My mom would make huge meals but my portions were limited. I would ask for seconds but always be told no. When I started working at age 16, I started to only snack for dinner and not really have meals. Now as an adult, I have almost the same issue. I don't eat when I'm upset, but then when I'm feeling okay again, I'll binge and over eat. I'm trying to exercise and lose weight but it's really difficult when you don't feel like eating, or feel like you need to compensate for what you haven't eaten.
Most of my memories of her I've blacked out. I remember that one time when I was around 10 years old, she grounded me for three days because I didn't comb my hair out while it had conditioner in when I was showering. Sure, my hair was really long, down to my butt and was annoying to brush out all the tangles, but grounding me for three days because of it? That's a little much. My dad didn't even say anything to her about it. He let it go. These sort of groundings and treatment were very common toward me from her. My brothers could get away with almost anything, whereas I was always blamed, grounded, and punished for things I never really did, or were completely ridiculous to be punished over, such as the conditioner incident.
It's scary how much I don't remember of her at all. I remember more of her after she moved out of the house, but it's still very unclear. I remember before my parents officially separated, she dragged me all the way from Green Bay, (where we lived), to Escanaba, where her family was. I was about 14 years old. I didn't even know what happened. All I knew was that I was being dragged away from my dad and my brothers. She asked them if they wanted to go. They had a choice. I didn't. I remember crying about not ever going to be able to see them again while still driving to Escanaba. I don't even know why she gave them a choice and not me. I just remember we went to my aunt's house, she's the second oldest out of her siblings, and stayed there one night. She had been having issues with another sister of hers and my grandmother over some present they had given my grandmother without consulting my mother. She was being the victim again over something that didn't even matter and when she wasn't supposed to be the focus.
We stayed one night at my aunt's house. I remember having to sleep on a very uncomfortable love seat. I woke up with a very sore neck. The next day we didn't even stay long. The fighting between my mother and her family (or rather the fact she was angry with them and not talking to them) had made it so we could go home, back to Green Bay. I was relieved. Mostly because I would get to see my brothers and dad again, but part of me was glad to be away from my uncle there. One time while I was over and he was supposed to be gone, I was around eight or nine years old and was playing in a sprinkler behind their house in just underwear. I turn around, and he's just staring at me with this weird look on his face. I didn't understand why I was so uncomfortable at the time, I just felt really weird. I stopped jumping and playing with the sprinkler and just covered myself up and went in the house. I don't remember much else about that uncle, mainly because I didn't stay at that house very often and he was a semi driver and gone for weeks at a time. Either way, I know now that my mom left because my parents were fighting and she decided to run away to Escanaba, thinking they would welcome her with open arms even after treating them like crap.
Thank you so much for your continued support :) Enjoy the holiday everyone! Until next time :)
-River Rei Hayden
"The night is long that never finds the day." - Shakespeare