Welcome to so long, Sue. A collection of stories and experiences sharing what it was like growing up, and eventually, growing apart from the abusive woman who gave birth to me. It’s hard to know exactly where to start or what shape this place will eventually take – especially when already operating from a very neurodivergent headspace, but the words and stories that will come to be published on these pages, I feel are necessary to tell. For what purpose yet, I don’t exactly know. But these deeply intimate and personal stories have been written for longer than I can remember, and it is time they’ve taken their permanent place in this world.
So, bear with me as I navigate the somewhat arduous task of unpacking 40 years of abuse, neglect, addiction, and mental illness – much of which was inflicted by the hands of own my mother.
I can say with complete honesty that my intent with these writings isn’t to have a place to trash the woman who raised me. It is much more complex than that. From the physical and psychological abuse I experienced at the hands of evangelical christianity, to the sexual abuse endured by men in positions of power and trust – specifically within my family unit growing up, and later during my time serving in the military.
I guess you could say this is my attempt at beginning to slowly pull at the many threads that have come loose from the tapestry of my life since the early 80’s, all in the name of “healing”…or growth…or closure. Call it what you want it, not that my life was ever woven together to resemble anything close to a work of art. My life has resembled much more a collection of threadbare and mismatched patches, badly stained and stitched together with whatever I had on hand during that chapter in life.
My hope is one day when I take a step back from the life’s work that I’ve “stitched” together during this short, painful journey, is that it will start to resemble something more along the lines of chaos in poetry form — beautiful and unique in its own way. That’s the dream anyway. But how do I ever begin to examine my past or any aspect of life through those rose-colored lenses when I’m now beginning to realize the full and dark scope of abuse that took place — much of which while my mother was either idly standing by or participating herself. I don’t know if it’s possible yet, but I guess we’re about to find out. This is so long, Sue.
**Disclaimer: While I do consider myself a somewhat educated and “smart” human-being, in no way shape or form am I a skilled writer or accomplished author, so please read (and troll) at your own risk. I will be writing for my own release and my own survival…not for your personal opinion.