Tuesday, March 23, 2010

An Abusive Home (Part II)

From the age of 5 she had been trying to get doctors to diagnose me with SOMETHING so she could get an SSI check for me (well really for her) I was diagnosed with ADHD first (yes at the age of 5!) I was put on every medication in the book, because there must be something wrong with me.

I remember everything so clearly this one day. I was only 11 and I was cleaning the bathroom. I had finished and had asked my 6 year old brother to go get me the mop water so I could mop the bathroom floor. My mother had just steam cleaned the carpets and he accidentally spilled the mop water all over her floors. When asked who spilled it, he lied and said it was me. I told them it was him. I remember the sun still up and standing in the kitchen our backs faced to them. My mother had this long 15” paddle that was thin green plastic in the shape of a rectangle and it was the worst paddle she had. We were hit on our bare asses until the sun was long gone. Their arms had gotten tired with no regard that we were in tears from the pain so they decided it was finally time to stop. My brother still refused to tell the truth. Then we were forced to have dawn dish soap in our mouths and hold it there for a few minutes and then swallow it. I couldn’t keep it down, ran to the bathroom puked and was made to go back and put more in my mouth. Again my brother still wouldn’t tell the truth, though I don’t blame him he was terrified as was I. We had these hard mexican red tile floors in the kitchen that we were forced to kneel on and I remember us both crying, we hurt, we were so scared but they didn’t seem to care. Finally the torture stopped. HOURS LATER! Our asses were black and blue we couldn’t even sit down. It stayed like that for weeks. People knew but no one dared to speak a word.

After everything had happened to me by the age of 12, my home life started to get worse. I realized that I was bisexual and I had no where to turn but my mother, I was confused and a little scared of my own sexuality. My mother rejected me, she refused to hug me or kiss me or tell me that she loved me, she actually told one of her friends it was because “She was afraid it would turn me on!” REALLY?! Who the fuck does that?! Do you not hug, kiss or say “ I love you” to your straight son because your “afraid of turning them on”? I felt so rejected by the one person who should have accepted me most, my own mother who carried me and gave birth to me. I don’t care whether my son is straight, gay, or bisexual. I will love him no matter who he is or his sexual orientation. I feel such a bond with him, I never could have imagined feeling such strong emotions for someone I have known for such little time. I bonded with him through my pregnancy, through his birth and after he was born, how could I NOT love him?! I couldn’t even fathom treating him this way. My mother disregarded me and all of my feelings, for some reason she was so selfish when it came to me.

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