Courage

I talked about how my husband saved me, but I left something very important out. My mother has a very bad case of Bi-Polar Disorder. Growing up it was never controlled, or even talked about. She was the main abuser in our family; and I was her main target. (Well, I made sure I was her main target. I would step in between her and my little sisters and make her focus her anger on me. I was their protector.) I'm not really sure what went on her head, and I am sure I never will; so I can only guess. Her mother abused her very badly when she was little and growing up too. So I guess that is the only thing she knew how to do. What is ironic, is her mother is a very head-strong, bible-thumping "christian" woman, hell, our family grew up going to church every Sunday morning, Sunday evening and Wednesday evening and that never stopped my mother from abusing us! It never made much sense. It was like we were living two lives. We would go to church and put on this huge fake persona of this loving, happy, "christian" family. Then, we would go home to this emotional, physical, and mental abuse. 

It is so sad. I never understood how a mother could do that to her own flesh and blood, to hit them, to put them down and call them names, or even swear at them. I could never understand why she didn't want to break the cycle. I used to ask, "Am I not good enough? Did I do something wrong to upset her? Why doesn't she love me? Why does she have to hurt me? Why does she hate me so much?" I realized after many years of growing up and talking about this with my husband, that I didn't do anything wrong and it's NOT my fault. She is at fault. She CHOOSES to stay miserable, negative, full of hate and anger for whatever reasons she has. She can choose to fix it and break the cycle; but she's chooses not too.

Well I did, I broke the cycle.

I never wanted to talk or open up about my feelings with anyone. I think I was like this because anytime an incident would happen with my mother, and I would run and tell my dad what happened, he would always say, "You know how your mother is, just stay out of her way." or "Well don't say anything back to her, just walk away." I thought I was a daddy's girl growing up all my life. He was the one I would run to, the one I wanted to protect me, and the one I thought protected me. But, he didn't. Granted, there were a FEW occasions where he would step in and say a few words to my mother, but it always ended with the same thing, "Just stay away from your mother, don't say anything to her." All these years growing up I was sure he was there for me. But looking back now, he wasn't. 

This one time she actually broke my pinky. I remember her chasing me around the house, who knows what set her off this time, and I grabbed this pool stick to try to keep her away from me because I knew she would hit me. I'm not talking about a little smack on the butt. When she hit, she left red marks, or if she grabbed you with her nails, she left scratches. Well, this time she caught me and cornered me up against the cabinets by the kitchen sink. She held on with this death grip as I struggled to get out, as my sisters stood there and watched, screaming for her to stop. She got ahold of my left hand and while I was trying to escape and pull away, she caught my pinky and bent it backwards. I let out a loud scream! Immediately, she went into her defense mode saying, "I never touched you!" "Well, then how did my pinky get so black and blue, and this swollen!? I didn't do this to myself!!" I told her as I ran up to my room, locked the door and started to call my dad to tell him what happened. But again, I got the same response, "Stay in your room, and don't go near her."

I was never taken to the ER or the Dr. To this day, my pinky is still broken.

That of course happened a few years before I met my amazing husband. In fact, in the beginning of our relationship he thought that  maybe I might be going down the same path as my mother. That of course scared the shit out of me. At first, I was in denial, "How could he think that!??, I'm NOTHING like her". It took me a long time, actually a couple years, before I could even say to myself, "Maybe...Maybe I might be going down the same path?" Then, to actually come to grips and take a good close look at myself and say, "What if? What if I did have it? Would I be like her?" And instead of being negative, I said, "OK, if I have it I am going to face it and do WHATEVER it takes to control it, regardless if I need to take medicine or see a therapist." 

It was very scary for me. I knew I wanted to be NOTHING like her. And to be nothing like her, I had to do the opposite of her. I had to "man-up" and be an adult about this. Tons of people have this, and it can be controlled. This isn't something to be ashamed about having. It's a disorder, not a lifestyle. It doesn't have to control you, like it did my mother. Instead, if I had it, I AM GOING TO CONTROL IT.

..."There is happiness to be gained from finding the courage to change things that should be changed."