No More Tears

You had me crying again. Crying because I wasn't loving you enough. You felt I loved others more than you. What is really sad is that I don't think I did. I should have loved everyone more than I loved you. I loved you so much and kept trying to love you more and more that you really got the most of my love. I never tried to love anyone and show someone as hard as I tried to show you. And yet, you feel I loved my SOB (your words) of a father more than you. Someone who never beat me. Someone who made me laugh. Someone who made it fun to be a kid. Someone I couldn't wait to be with. You knew that and took him away. Your jealousy and unhappiness sent him running for the hills to escape from your wrath. I can still see the bacon and eggs sliding down his windshield. I recall on the mountain highway when you pulled the keys out of the ignition and threw them out the window. I think there is a reason that car manufacturers make it so you can't do that anymore while the car is in gear. We ended up crashing in the side of the mountain. You, dad, and four kids. You were willing to risk anything, because to you weren't any"one". We were just things to be controlled and manipulated. Like chess pieces on a board and when you didn't get your way, you'd knock us all over.  I remember when you jumped out of the moving car. I was screaming at you to not do that. "Don't mommy, don't mommy". "Mommy, please don't. We're scared". "Mommy, we love you, close the door." At times I had very dishonoring and evil thoughts and wished you had died.

Your little pawns in your game of life. That's all we were. If you could make us look bad to make you look good, well game on. You did not care about the level of shame or humiliation you brought on us. You had us steal for you and told us not to get caught. Good one there. If we got caught you would berate us and shame us in front of the authority and play the poor single mom, or the poor struggling mom with some terminal illness. How you tried so hard to keep your kids in line but they just won't listen. Oh, the tears came so easy. They'd be so suckered in and feel so sorry for you and they'd look at us with disgust. We would have to make apologies and retribution to them. We'd work for free, cleaning yards, houses, whatever they needed. All the while filled with shame and embarrassment for something we did not do on own accord. I hated my life so much. I really hated it.

Then the knocking the pawns over. The rage that would take place because you had to act your academy award winning part due to your nacissist injury. We would have to be humiliated even further for doing you bidding. We would have to be "punished". Not punished for stealing, but punished for getting caught. "Didn't I tell you not to get caught?" Thwack! "What are you crying for? I haven't even hit you yet!" Thwack! "You brought it on yourself so don't cry to me!" Thwack! "Pull your pants DOWN!" Thwack! "What does "Don't get caught me to you"?" Thwack! "So what are you going to do next time?"

It would go on sometimes for an hour or more. I'd cry and beg "Please don't hit me." She'd laugh and say "Take it like an adult. You're such a baby. Can't even follow the simplest instructions. How are you ever going to make it in life if you can't do the simple things?" And the conveyor belt would lash out over and over on my bare bottom, my back, my legs, my shoulders. She'd pull my hair if I tried to move off her lap and slap me in the face if I wasn't responding to her in the correct tone of voice or the right words. When she was all done I would have to tell her I loved her before I could leave the room. Sometimes that would entail more beating before I would break down and say "I love you mom."

Shortly after that we'd be sent out again to raid gardens, steal pop bottles, a carpet sweeper once and a carpet, apples off trees. We'd get home and MNM would demand "Did anyone see you?" We'd say no and she would exclaim that they better not have because you know what will happen if they did. Next we'd she in doo doo up to our necks because we didn't get enough of this or that. Then we'd have to decide which us useless ones would do without since we hadn't thought to bring enough for everyone.

I cried then. Every day. Every night. All the time. I cried the other day. It washed away some of the blindness I had for you. I don't think I will cry because of you again. My heart is drying up.

I await the blessed return of Jesus and believe and live in hope of his words:

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Revelation 21:4