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Continued:
I’ve been so inclined to feel guilty, it’s the first go-to place: guilty for what I just said, guilty for what I just felt, guilty, Guilty. Suffering, ruminating.. how wrong I was, how bad I was/ am, for having said that, for having felt that, every experience being “proof” of badness, of guilt, of being bad. BAD. BAD anita. anita BAD.
It’s the legacy she left, a message she imprinted in my mind and heart: that I (anita) am a BAD PERSON, in capital letters, B.A.D.
When I have a visual image of her, it’s that of her being 30 or 40 (she is now 80), and what I see is her face, angry, the corners of her mouth slightly turned upward, and her eyes pitch black. Very, very perfectly, 100% black, looking at me, with corners of mouth turned slightly upward, a very light smile. And her message: anita, you are BAD. And she smiles as she says this, enjoying my distress as her massage lands on me, exploding, explosive, B A D.
It’s time for me to send her message back to her, back to messenger: you are bad, you crossed the line from good-child, to bad mother, bad person, pitch black eyes and slight smile at seeing me in pain, enjoying seeing me in pain.
Seeing me in pain gave her pleasure, made the corners of her mouth go up in a slight smile.
Time to remove any and all loyalty I ever had for her. Time to understand that those pitch black eyes were not the eyes of a mother.
I never had a mother. You were not a mother. My understanding of who I am must not depend on the understanding of pitch dark eyed devil who feasted on my pain.
Reads dramatic? It was my reality, this really was/ is what I was born into.. Welcome to the world, and… Surprise- you have a devil for a mother!
Ouch.
My Story, my reality. I am still having a difficulty believing it… a mother, pitch-black eyes and a smile, enjoying my pain.
Enjoying my pain.. NO! it can’t be. NOOOO!
My truth, my reality.. A mother who enjoyed seeing my pain. Time to stop feeding her joy, time to stop trying to please those pitch-black eyes and slight smile.
anita