Blood

I tried to get my mother to listen, but she never listened to me. I could tell her that I was dying and she would only look at me and say OK honey now get out of my way and go play. She never listened to me. I didn’t know what else to do but to find somebody who would listen to me. I wished that I could count on my mom but as usual she never cared or wanted to listen to me.

I couldn’t be in the house because my mom never wanted me in the house. If we hung out too long inside near her, we were told to go out and play or find something to do and get away from her. So I decided to go ice skating with my friend Ashley.

Ashley had fallen through the ice and she was hanging there on the edge. The pond wasn’t that deep and Ashley stood there hanging onto the side of the ice, the ice was up to her chest and she just couldn’t get the strength to get herself up onto the ice. The bottom of her stood there in the cold water while the top of her was grasping to get up onto the ice and only kept slipping back into the same positions that she was in to begin with. I could only try to help her back onto the ice but she was so heavy. I was so weak. I couldn’t find the strength to help my friend. I felt helpless. I didn’t want to leave her but I had to find somebody who would help me. So reluctantly I ran. I ran fast, the fastest I think I have ever ran to my house to tell my mother what had happened and please help me.

I got to my house and ran in the door searching for my mother’s face, but I couldn’t find it. I started to scream and finally my mother’s voice came tumbling down from the top of the stairs. I ran over and started to quickly tell my mother that Ashley had fallen through the ice and needed help to get out.

My mother told me that I could help her on my own and told me to get back to her to help her get out. What? You aren’t going to come help me get her out? Why won’t you help me?

I never did get an answer..... So I ran out of the house and ran as fast as I could back to Ashley. She was a plump little girl and the ice was so high up on her. I knew if I was going to get her out of there, and I had to get her out of there, it was really going to take a lot of work. My adrenaline must have kicked in and I got a good grasp on Ashley’s arm and just started pulling as hard as I could. Slowly she started to come out of the ice. As soon as she was half way onto the ice it became easier to pull on her. She was finally out of that cold water and laying there soaked to the bone. Now I had to get her back to warmth. But I got her out on my own. My mom was right, I can do it on my own. I had to do it on my own. No one else was there.

My mom was good at that. Any kind of conflict or emergency or disruption in her life was not something she wanted to confront or have to deal with. I always felt like I was on my own.

A little boy whose name was Johnny was maybe 6 years old, I was 8 at the time and he used to come down and play at my house every day. His mom was a bartender and was gone most evenings so her son would come down and mom would kind of be his surrogate while his mom was working. One day we didn’t know that he was down around our house and we lived on the corner of a main road and a dirt road. The dirt road led back to some beautiful homes that lay next to the lake. They had a few rentals down there and one of those rentals was where this little boy lived with his mom. Anyway.....the little boy was riding his bike and rode right into the main road and was hit by a car.

The car stopped...it was a little old lady who was terribly distraught over what had just happened. This woman came to our door and asked if my mom would call the ambulance because she had just hit a little boy. I went to run out because I knew, I just knew who it was and my mom yelled at me to stay in the house. I was not allowed outside. Mom called the ambulance, but never stepped outside to see what happened. She spent the whole time inside while the ambulance and police were out there. That was my friend out there laying on the side of the street and who knows how bad he was hurt. I just wanted to get out there and see, but mom wouldn’t allow us out of the house. Maybe for our own good, but she never even attempted to find out herself. She hid inside like she always did. Away from any trauma in life.

My mom never made the choice to go where someone was in need of help. It shamed me to see my mom this way. She was either very uncaring for anyone but herself or she was just weak. Either way, it wasn’t a good way to be in life. I knew that. She never wanted to see life the way it really was. She hid everything she could from herself. To the day she died, she was weak. I mistakenly said out loud with my mom setting right next to me that I would never want to be like mom in that way and she broke down and cried because she didn’t want her own daughter to be better than her. I didn’t say it to be mean. I just thought that any mom would want better for their kids than they had it. I would never wish my kid to be less than me and that is what my mom wanted from her kids...to be less than her. I lost a lot of respect for my mom and I also felt sorry for her. I lost my mom because I was not weak like her.

I remember one night while my uncle was visiting while my father was in the hospital, we were watching the Presidential election. I wanted Nixon to win. I had no idea what that meant, but my uncle liked him and hoped for him to win so I wanted the same. My mom came into the room and the next thing I knew us kids were being locked in the cellar. I remember my uncle following my mom upstairs and then the next thing I knew us kids were being locked in the cellar. I remember being so mad at her for taking my uncle to a place where only my father had been. I hated my mom for doing this, my sister, brother, and myself were locked in the cellar with a rooster while my mom did what she wanted with my uncle then when they were done, we were let out of the cellar. I would scream and scream, but nobody ever came to my rescue. I was so afraid of that rooster. It was in a cage, but it scared me. I had no idea at the time that the reason that rooster was in our cellar was because my dad used to fight it. It was a fighting rooster. No one ever talked of it, but I learned this through life growing up.

I was so mad at my uncle. He was my favorite Uncle and he was trying to act like my dad and he wasn’t. I remember after letting us kids out of that cellar, the election for President Nixon was just ending. The new President had won the election. I would have been 8 at the time, and my uncle was so happy when Nixon won the election. I remember seeing the end of the election that night. He was my favorite uncle until that night. I have hated him ever since. Nixon too.

I went to nursing school later in life and while in nursing school realized that my brother was my half-brother. All of this information was found out on accident. My mother had no idea what she was telling me at the time. My brother was not my brother. He wasn’t my dad’s son he was my uncles. One day I was visiting my mom and I was talking to her about what I was learning in nursing school, at the time it was blood types. We were discussing what blood types we all had in the family and I remember when mom told me my brother's blood type, my immediate thought was that my brother's blood type was in question with the rest of our families blood. When mom told me dad’s blood type and my brother’s blood type, I knew that there was no way my brother could be my dad's. But being all new to this, I never said anything and went on with my nursing. The more nursing I learned, the more I knew what that my brother was indeed my half-brother.

I remember one time when my dad was drinking, he brought home a bunch of guys that he had been drinking with and my mom needed to use the bathroom. We only had the one bathroom which was just off the kitchen where all of the guys were sitting around the kitchen table drinking and having fun. This had to be about one in the morning.

Mom wouldn’t go to the bathroom. She wouldn’t go into the kitchen past the guys to use the bathroom so she went into the laundry room and peed on the floor and then cleaned it up. I was maybe 10 years old at that time. I thought to myself, why didn’t she just go to the bathroom in the bathroom?

This was my mom. She died I don’t know how many years ago. I don’t count and I don’t really miss her. The only time she was ever there for me was when I had my daughter at the very early age of 15. I was always going through life figuring everything out on my own. Mom never pointed me in any directions. She never gave me hope. She never wanted for me. When I did do good things in my life, my mom only hated me more. She was so jealous of what I had. She never realized that all along she always had what it took to be more, but she was so afraid to make any attempts to be more for herself.

My brother and sister grew up thinking nothing of all of this while I was wondering what was wrong with my family? Never did anything ever seem right in my family setting. I watched so many of my friends with their mom’s and dad’s and nothing ever came close to what I had to grow up in. I tried my whole life to spend nights away from home. Anywhere I could at any time...I wanted out of something not normal. I hated being home.

I hated my family and for many good reasons. I have done everything in my power to be the best that I can be. So many times I find myself facing fears and some I do back away from. I have that in me. I am my mom in so many ways, but I am my mom in many different ways. We were different but had the same blood.