Continued:

To express what’s been repressed for decades, more than half a century of repression:

I am still afraid of the woman I was born through.

Oopsie.. I was born to that one woman…

Expressing that repressed expression (“oopsie”) would be saying something like: NO, GET ME OUT OF HERE, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Facing a predator day in and day out and nowhere to escape.

Scared, heart beating fast, cold skin, cold sweat.. dizzy, about to faint, oh no, oh no, help me, someone, HELP ME.

I used to pray to the stars in the night sky: help me, HELP me, help me.

Day in and day out, night after night.. and here’s another morning with hope dashed, another day.

In photographs, in the photo album, her head was missing, torn off.  She cut her head off in photos.

I tried to tell her: don’t cut your head off, you are beautiful! And she said, in so many words,  no, I am ugly, and you are ugly too!

anita: I want to help you..!

Predator: I will kill you, I will murder you!

That’s the word she used, “murder”, “I will murder you!“. She said these words like a victim, as if I hurt her so badly, that she had no choice but to murder me, to cut my head off.

Nowhere to go, no safe place. At night, I listened to her breathing and found some relief when it was steady, meaning she was really asleep. She can’t murder me when asleep.

In her times of wakeful rage, there she was rushing, running toward me, only a few meters/ feet, but still running, her breathing fast and loud, full of rage, ready for the kill.

This one time she told me: you think I am stupid? I will not break your bones, I will not leave bruises, I’ll get into trouble if I do. I know how to hit you and not leave a sign!

She was thinking that I was trying to trick her into getting her into trouble with the police or something. She was thinking that I was trying to trick her into breaking my bones so to get her into trouble.

If this is a mother, then all words have no meaning.

I feel sorry for her still. Clearly, a very sick person. But I am not feeling sorry for my mother. I didn’t have a mother. I feel sorry for that person.

And I feel sorry for another person, little girl anita. She didn’t know. She didn’t know what was happening. Oh God, she prayed to no god in particular, please help me, please..! 

Decades later, the world is filled with predators, some in very powerful places world-wide, but in my personal experience, this one person scared me more than any other, this predator in my life, my personal predator, a freakish distortion of the word mother.

anita