Lj Idol Week Four- The Elephant In The Room
After dinner on Thanksgiving, when I had already settled in at home, my mother called me so we could discuss my crazy sister. Somehow, the conversation turned to my rebellious teen years, how I spent almost a whole year in my bedroom, only coming out at night and not speaking to anyone. How I signed out of High School the second week into what would have been my senior year, and why I had done so.
She’s older, in her 70’s, and her memory is going. We argued over the details, agreeing to disagree, though I think I remember my own life a bit better than she. I love my mother, but she is the only person I know who is more stubborn than I am. Eventually, she asked, point blank, “Why were you so screwed up?”.
I’m a crier, always have been, and I tried to choke the tears back. There was a silence, and all I could say was, “Kai”.
She was silent for a bit too, and made it clear she didn’t understand. I’m sure she didn’t, I’m sure she has a very different view on how my life was as I was growing, but for me, it’s imprinted on every inch. She asked me what he had to do with it, and I was stunned. Could she really not know? Was her memory going that quickly that it had all slipped away from her?
“Mom, he beat me. Every day was something new, and when it wasn’t with his fists, it was him telling me, since I was eight, that I was shit, and that I was worthless, and that no one would ever care about me. Do you really not remember this?”
In a small voice she said, “I never knew…”
I explained to her that I don’t see how she couldn’t have, that when I was a child it always felt to me that she allowed it to happen, and that’s directly responsible for the strain we had in our relationship all those years. I blamed her then, though I know better now.
She asked me how it was that, while this was all going on, I could work for him at his store. It was simple, really, and I told her that the control he had over me was just that strong, that I couldn’t explain it. My father died when I was young, and he was the only male that was really around. I looked to him for approval, for love, for acceptance. When he gave that to me, it was like a high. When he was breaking plates over my head, I thought I deserved it.
She told me I was miserable in my late teens, that I hated myself. I told her it was because I didn’t know how to love myself when I was told all of the horrible things about who I am, what I look like. I told her it hurt that she never stood up for me, that she never made him leave, and that’s why I had to. That’s why I left home, why I hated him for so long, that she had no idea the things he had done to me.
We both cried. I told her I wasn’t angry anymore, I had given that anger up, and now only feel sorry for Kai. I also told her I was sorry our relationship was strained for so many years.
She didn’t say much else, but I knew. I knew she was sad, and sorry too.
I had no idea she didn’t know, I had no idea that it wasn’t obvious to her, I just assumed we never talked about it because she was ashamed, or blamed me, or some combination of the two.
Thanksgiving this year was exhausting, but in some ways it was the best, most cathartic one.