Sweet and loving

   To be completely fair,I mentioned my mother in my last post..This will expand that experience that is my mother..They are in no particular order...
           No reflection intended nor implied by this statement of fact,but my mother was a completely different person until her only biological child,my younger brother arrived on the scene..
           As her child got older,the more and more she sank into her own,private,psychotic world..Of course now I know that she is mentally ill,but,back in the day,I hadn't a clue..I will only give the highlights of my life with her..I became very proficient  at doing complicated math just with my mind..My mother taught me that trick by slapping me hard in the face for every error I made,I was eight at the time..It is a skill I still use today..Thanks, mom!
      My mother was blessed with a very special talent..She could turn the crazy on and off as one might do to a light switch..I recall at the age of thirteen..I arrived home, feeling my usual dread upon seeing her car in the drive..As usual, I tried to avoid contact with her,but this time she demanded that I come into the kitchen..She was cutting vegetables in the sink..She asked me a question,I don't recall what it was,didn't like my answer,and lunged at me with her paring knife..I fell backward and landed on the floor.She leaped on me,knife flashing..We struggled,but she managed to stab me in my left calf..That seemed to shock her and she stopped..Just then, the phone rang..She stood up,answered it in her extra sweet voice as if attempted murder had not just taken place..

    I had learned to bind my own wounds long before,and dressed the stab as well as any child could do..I still have that scar in my calf today..The mark of a mothers love..
      My mother insisted that we all attend church every Sunday..We all dressed up back then..I had this wooden pants press/clamp thing that my dress pants hung on..You had to get the clamp JUST right,or the pants pleats might wrinkle..I was changing out of my Sunday clothes when my mother slammed into my room,I was 10,at the time...She flung open my closet door,examined the way I had hung up my dress pants,and then went into one of her roaring rages..Screaming like a mad banshee,she shoved me down on the bed,hitting me over and over with that heavy wooden and steel hanger..All because she didn't like the way I had hung my dress pants up..Exhausted she got up off of me...I went in the bathroom and washed off the blood...
          I was eight years old or so...Mother was in one of her famous fits..She threw me so hard against the wall,that it broke my arm..She was late for a luncheon with her friends,so right after that,she left..I was in so much pain,I did the only thing I could think to do...I walked miles to go see our family Pedophile,er. Dr..He x-rayed my arm,confirmed it was broken and put it in a cast..I walked home..My mother arrived home before my dad did..She flipped out that I had gone to the Dr...That I should have just lived with a little pain,as she called it...
         When my dad arrived home, I could hear her telling him that I had fallen out of a tree,and broken my own arm..Of course,anyone that knows me knows I have always avoided heights..That I would be climbing any tree is so ridiculous...But,that was my dad,never look beneath the surface..Fingers thrust in ears,hearing only happy tunes..
         I remember one day I was sitting at my desk building a model car...I heard the garage door open and I looked out the window I was facing..I watched my mother wheel out my fav. childhood thing..My red Schwinn bike..She laid it down in the middle of the driveway,got in her car,backed out of the garage and over my bike...I don't think I have ever been that shocked..She told my dad that I had left it lying in the drive and that she ran over it by accident.. Expressing emotion of any kind was rare for my father,but he was furious that I could be so careless..I did not tell him what I saw,he would never take my word over my mothers..never.
      We took my bike over to the Schwinn dealer and learned it would be over $25.00 to repair..My dad ranted and yelled all the way home from the Schwinn dealer..From that moment on, I locked my bike to a wood beam in the garage with a chain..
      My mother made every meal time a festival of misery..She spent dinner time criticizing the way I cut my meat,the way I used a soup spoon,etc..You get the idea..Her biggest delight was discovering some food I hated,like peas for example,and serve them as often as she could,making sure I got a a extra large serving..
   My mother made every holiday memorable..Not pleasant,just memorable..After I turned 14,I started celebrating Christmas in my room,alone,rather than endure her tirades..
       I was so miserable with things,and seeing now way out,I attempted suicide..Can you imagine how desperate I was..I wrote a short suicide note and took a large bottle of drugs....As luck would have it,my dad happened to come home early,found me,and I ended up in Harborview hospital..They saved me..They saved me for more motherly love,is all they saved me from..
    Of course,suicide is against the law..Here come the child court system..My mother was in a serious panic..Would I tell the investigators and the judge what was really going on? I am confident that my mother was thinking that she might wind up in a mental hospital,just like some of her relatives did..
    Oh how she turned up the threats to me...Dire descriptions of my father getting fired..yeah,right..That my brothers and I would go to orphanages..That it would all be my fault....In the end,I said nothing to anyone,and the storm passed..My mother dodged a fatal bullet,as did my family..
      I spent the next three years avoiding my family as much as possible..Then one day,my mother hit me over the head hard enough to draw major blood,using a steel vacuum cleaner wand...That was the last time she ever hit me..I rose up and told her that if she ever touched me again,that I would kill her..For the first time I saw real fear in her eyes,because both she and I knew that I meant every word..I was working two jobs at the time, and it was decided that I could move out,which I did..I moved out and never returned..
      Oh, we still speak of sorts..Happy subjects only..She did mention in passing not long ago,out of the blue that she knows that she did things to me,but hasn't any reasons why..Satan awaits his handmaiden to help him rein in Hell,he won't be denied for too much longer..