Why I Left My Mom- Chapter One: My Mother's History

Warning: This next chapter contains uncomfortable subjects like mentions of incest, child sodomy, life threatening accidents. I am trying to do my best to continue telling my mother's story without censors, as it should be told this way. Reader's discretion advised.

I don't even know where to start so I'll start at the beginning I suppose. Or at least as far back as I can remember. Even before that. 

I don't remember this first part as I was not even a concept or thought until decades later. But to be fair, I need to explain a bit of my mother's past to possibly explain my mother a bit and what may have led her to become the mother she was to me. 

Before we go further, I need to clarify and state that these are her own words and stories I have been told from her. So, I am just relaying what has been shared with me since I was a child. If anyone mentioned in the events I'm typing out below does not remember things that way, this is from my mother, not me. And I apologize if the story is told wrong. 

My mother was born in 1962 in Butte, Montana. If you have never been to Montana, even today, they tend to be a very conservative bunch and tend to have some old-fashioned ways of thinking. While I recommend visiting as a tourist because the state is simply beautiful and should definitely be seen and experienced, I personally would never want to live there as it probably wouldn't be a good place for me to live with how I go about things. 

But my mother was born to my Grandparents, Truda and Jack, as an only child between 6 kids. How is that possible? Well, she is the only child between my biological grandpa and grandma while her other 5 siblings are half siblings from my grandparents' previous marriages. Jack had 4 kids with his first wife, Ruth, who died at a young age. And Truda had one child with her first husband George, who simply got up and abandoned her within the first year of marriage. 

There was a 13-year age difference between my grandparents. My grandma was 19 years old, and my grandpa was 32 when they decided to get hitched. And 4 months after that my mother was born. If you can do the math and know how pregnancy works, then it's not that hard to figure out my mother was conceived out of wedlock. 

I never really got the answer as to whether Truda and Jack married because of the fact you could see the obvious baby bump in their wedding video. Or because they actually wanted to get married and my mother's almost arrival in the world was a coincidence. Based on what I know of the time and the way things were, they most likely got married because of my mom being on the way as it was shameful otherwise. So, I have to conclude that she grew up with parents who never actually loved each other- at least not in the traditional way. 

My grandpa was... a piece of work. I personally didn't get to know him much because my mother wouldn't allow it. We will get to why that is later, but you'll get a glimpse as to why here. 

And again, I need to clarify that this is what was told to me from my mother. Who was open about her trauma to us kids since we were young ourselves. If there is another side to the story, I'd like to hear it. And I will write a separate bit so all sides and voices are heard.

My Grandpa truly loved his first wife. I understand her death was very tragic. And it hit him pretty hard as it would anybody. However, I was told he did ask to have sex with his oldest child, my oldest aunt from that side, because he missed his first wife so much and his oldest daughter reminded him so much of Ruth. So... yeah. That apparently happened. It never actually physically happened as much as I am aware, but the thought of it and action of asking for it did happen. I think that's still terrible.

I think the earliest of my mother's trauma happened at 7 years old, when she was sodomized by a family member. More than once from what I understand. How long this continued never was made clear to me, but it was stopped by my Great Grandma as soon as she found out about it. She threatened to kill the family member at fault (and she probably would actually have) if he continued doing this. He stopped and as far as I know it didn't continue or try anything similar since. I can't imagine the trauma this would have caused my mother. 

This family member and I are on good speaking terms and whatever issues he had during his young teenage years at the time have obviously been resolved. He is most certainly not this person anymore otherwise we simply wouldn't be speaking. I think this family member's actions were based on his own trauma he may have experienced- which I am not aware of what that may be- but the family wasn't nuclear by any means and the time made things difficult on how you handled the trauma. I would be very surprised if any of her other siblings didn't have trauma of their own and didn't have any help or other way to healthily take care of it like we do in today's world. Which leads me to my next point. 

You didn't talk about your issues during that time. You didn't hang your dirty laundry. Any bad deeds were kept within the family, and you didn't talk about it. You acted like it didn't exist. And if you did miraculously decide to get some counseling, you drove 3 towns away where no one knew you. But usually that didn't even happen.  This is usually the source for much generational trauma which my generation and the ones after us are trying to break the cycle of. But a lot of my parents' generation and before that were pretty screwed up by the time they grew up.

My mother was also in a bicycle accident when she was 14? I can't quite remember the age but she was very young. That should have killed her right then and there. Literally everything in her entire neck was shred to pieces except one thing and that's what kept her alive. She almost died as a child. And went through many surgeries and recoveries into adulthood for it. Again, a trauma like that doesn't just go away. 

While I understand my mother has gone through her own trauma that I would never wish on ANYONE, not even my worst enemy- it's something she also acknowledges she has and has... really refused to receive help for. I feel sympathy for her. What she went through is absolutely terrible and horrific. It's kind of a miracle she isn't worse. But acknowledging what she's been through is only helping me understand why she is the way she is, why she treated me the way she did, and that the way I was treated didn't have anything to do with me or something I did. It helps with healing.

It doesn't mean I'll forgive- as I simply don't forgive people who aren't sorry and don't change as they haven't learned anything- but I can accept what has happened to move on fully.