Psychological abuse


What happened surrounding Michael’s wedding was the beginning of the end of my relationship with my mother. I realized then how much she manipulated my father and drove him absolutely batty in exactly the same way. He would beg her to tell him what was wrong just like I had and she would just be bitchy and negative.

To this day I don’t know if I had done something to offend her or what the hell was wrong. She wouldn’t talk about it. That was over and done. The past. We didn’t need to dwell on it. For fuck’s sake, Mother, you damn near ruined you son’s wedding. You certainly put me in a precarious position having to explain it all. Aren’t I entitled to know what the hell was going on? Apparently not.

I never trusted her after that. And I didn’t get over being angry. That incident was such a revelation. All sorts of shitty memories started flooding back into my concious memory of the abuse my brothers and I suffered at her hands.

How she had stuck my finger under the sewing machine needle and deliberately rammed the needle into it for a few seconds as she held my hand there because she caught me playing with her machine. I was maybe three when that happened. Maybe younger. My god in heaven that ain’t that woman was cruel.

It had always bothered me that I could not remember large parts of my childhood but now I think I don’t want to remember. No, I’m almost certain I don’t.

B

That family genealogist found these blogs and contacted me. He told me he’d be happy to update our family information if I cared to give it. I told him to contact my mother and tell her how he found out there was an error. There have been a few hits on the site–two yesterday specifically for Phyllis Ann Fate Gavin.

What can I say? Welcome to my world, Mom if you are the reader. If it’s my brothers well hey there bro. Welcome to your world as well. It wasn’t always happy was it. Thanks to the sheer neglect that went on we managed to make it happy though. You three banded together and did all those crazy things that might have gotten you killed. I was so lonely watching the three of you sometimes. I felt shut out.

Well, that’s the way things were, It’s today that we should be living in. We’re all estranged and everything. I wonder what you think about that. I wonder if you give a rat’s ass. I wonder if you even know the reason why or care to know.

It might be other family members. If so, welcome to the Incestuous abusive story of one of your family members. Actually it involves a number of us. Right off hand I can’t say how many since I’d have to count all the ex-wives, girlfriends and husbands and children and their significant others. You get my drift right?

I’m tired. This shit makes me even more tired.

B

Who put the bomp
In the bomp bah bomp bah bomp?
Who put the ram
In the rama lama ding dong?
Who put the bop
In the bop shoo bop shoo bop?
Who put the dip
In the dip da dip da dip?
Who was that man?
I’d like to shake his hand
He made my baby fall in love with me

Me First and The Gimme Gimmees

When my brother Michael got married the second time the plan was that I would drive in from Wisconsin a few days early and stay with my Mother and then we would make the drive out to Denver, stopping in Scottsbluff to spend the night with my best friend from highschool Barbara W and spend the next day with them. It was supposed to be a leisure ly trip so we weren’t all exhausted when we got there two days before the wedding.

I still don’t know what the hell was going on with my mother when I got there. The kids and I were all excited about going to the wedding and she was wet blanketing everything we said until she finally had my kids so upset they didn’t want to go. That’s when I told her to knock it off in front of the kids or I was leaving.

The deal was that Mother was going to stay at Michael’s house and the kids and I were going to stay with one of Michael’s friends. She sounded like a blast to me and I couldn’t wait to meet her in person. I don’t know how it came up exactly but my mother started yelling at me about that “You think that sounds like FUN staying with complete stranger?” and on and on in the same vein

Then she started complaining about how she didn’t want to go and blah blah blah. I told her once again to knock it off in front of my kids or I was leaving but she kept it up so I herded the kids who were crying by then into the car and we went over to Harvard to visit some friends. When I came back she was in her bedroom with the door locked and wouldn’t talk to me. Christ… Now my kids ere really freaking out.

I didn’t know what the hell to do so I went to talk to my old pastor about the whole mess. He told me to set it out for her that I was going to go and have a good time and I was not going to put up with any nonsense from her. She was wecome to come with me but l was not going to allow her to put a damper on the trip and she needed to act like a grown up and talk to me. I took my kids over to my brother Jimmy’s house and went back and did just that.

She was still locked in the bedroom. I tried to talk her into coming out to talk to me but she wouldn’t answer. Finally I got pissed and decided I had taken enough bullshit from this woman. Time for an ultimatum.

I packed up all my stuff and got it ready to go and then I talked to my mother through the bedroom door. I told her she had an hour to come out of that bedroom and if she didn’t the kids and I were going to go spend the night with Chuck my other brother and then on to Barbara W’s. There would be no more bullshit and that was that. She would act like a grown-up or she would be treated like a child

Then I went over to Jimmy’s and we had dinner. I got back there and she hadn’t come out of the bedroom yet so I told her that she’d have to ride to the wedding with Jimmy. I packed up my car and left.

She didn’t go to the wedding.

B

When my children were small they would ask me to tell them stories about what it was like when I was a little girl. I told them funny stories about my brothers. They called them the Uncle stories. I don’t think they even noticed that I told them hardly anything about myself.

I wish I could remember good times. I’m sure there must have been good times. It couldn’t have all been bad times could it? No. It’s just that the bad times over shadow all the good times, drawing a dark curtain over what was good. I remember times that started off good but turned out bad.

Mostly I remember being afraid to be happy because if I was happy something bad would happen. I remember laying awake in my bed at night and praying that nothing bad would happen. I remember making deals with god about what I would give up if only he would stop the bad stuff from happening. It never worked. I gave up being happy but the bad stuff kept happening. I could never be good enough.

Why do bad things happen to good little girls? Because shit happens and there is no one there to care. Especially not an all-seeing, all-powerful god.

B