Wednesday, February 01, 2006


My recent realization is such a twisted breath of air. On one hand, it's so damn nice to be able to identify with something..let alone have books that seem to have crawled outside from my head about my life with my mother.

On the other hand, as I think about my past entry and especially read about "Growing up did your parent?" every one of those things hit me like a brick. As a matter of fact...YES...SHE DID...every one of them. Been there, felt that.

Even my close neighbors whom I mowed lawns for, and dog sat for, tried to tell my mom I "was a good kid" - not just one neighbor..a handful. I mowed half my blocks lawn when I was a kid, with an electric lawn mower that was given to me by a next door couple in their 80's that felt sorry for me having to do my front lawn with a weed-eater. No kidding, they told me they would give me their lawn mower if I did their lawn with it too. From there I started to make some money with it because I not only mowed a lawn, I did a good job. Picky anal type of job. You didn't have grass in the crack of your sidewalk, or overhanging your curb, ..thats all I have to say. So a lot of the neighbors liked what I did, and presto, it was a way to earn some money.

And yes, in my house we were all "mature" and the less said the better, unless it was in agreement to something she had to say. As far as my own ideas and thoughts..noone ever really cared to ask. I didn't see the inside of a mall until I was over 16, and even then I came home to a hostile mom who told me I was acting "different" and had an was in my "tone" I'd be grounded for at least a month.

I'd try to say something..........inside me was a raging WTF?!!? But even a wrong look could result in even more time locked in my house, let alone if I rocked out a word or two like, "Why?" or "What did I do?" through tears and would get me chased to my room and nails dug into my arm while she stared at me saying awful things, with a look to kill. And that was getting off lucky. Don't let her hear you throw something in your room..or even scream into your pillow. Then you would casually hear her yell "5 weeks now...6...want more?" Imagine trying to turn off that frustration.

If I could help it at all, I tried to avoid that. I've always said it's the worst torture though. Feeling something so intense, whether it be anger, sadness, injustice, and not being allowed to express it. It kills your soul...grips it like a wrench a wrings it out to dry.

So I am writing about crap I thought I had forgotten long ago, but somehow it plays like a movie in my head. I think thats why I've heard it's no good to bury stuff inside - because it's all an illusion, and no matter how far down you dig the hole, it will surface in time, and find you. was with you all along. You just didn't see it. It was why you had that extra drink, why you pushed him/her away, why you woke up today and wished you hadn't.

As much as I don't want to make this blog too personal (I'm funny about those things), and just talk about the stupid lady next door who took my spoons, and how Oprah pisses me off...I dunno maybe in some way getting this stuff out will help.

Not burying it - releasing it. Maybe that's the key.

This blog is getting heavy though. I don't know if you are..but I'm starting to resent it. I hate being a downer. Yes I do.

1 comment:

deawn said...

I hope this works, it seems to never work for me. Just wanted to tell you I love the way you write-deawn