Today I was looking through my diary from middle school and some of the passages I read made me want to gag. LOL. I may post some of them later, but this particular passage made tears well up in my eyes because I remember that day. The shaky handwriting that I used expressed a sad day that at the time I didn’t have the words to express what I was feeling, the ink was a cheerful teal blue.
“I hate that damn Edward. Could take a gun and shoot him. No one is the world can have so much hate inside for someone. I mean I hate staying here. He’s out there cutting down a tree that I really like. I hate him. I hate him I wish a tree limb would”
That was all that I wrote but I remember that day. It was the first and last day a man ever laid his hands on me. I remember talking to my grandmother about how he was cutting the limbs off of a tree in our front yard. I was angry about it. I felt it was not his house to make such a decision. My mom was at work and Edward was her boyfriend who lived with us. He decided to cut off the limbs on a perfectly good tree at a house we were renting. It looked horrible. I remember thinking he was such a sorry ass man and how could my mother waste her time on him. Anyway he heard me talking shit about him cutting down the tree with my grandmother on the phone and we got in an argument. And it ended with him grabbing me by my neck and throwing me in my room. I remember thinking at the time that it must have looked like that scene in Purple Rain when his daddy slapped him into the next room. Remember that. It was comical yet disturbing at the same time.
Anyway, I remembered the fear I felt. I knew I couldn’t win. Even if my anger towards him was equal towards him as his was towards me. I would lose. I know we were yelling at each other what I said I don’t remember. I remember later looking in the mirror and the cross necklace I had around my neck had left scratches on my neck from the tussle. I could have had his ass. I had power, I knew what I could do if I just opened my mouth. I knew if I told my mom what he did she would leave him but I never told her what happened. Even to this day she doesn’t know for sure what happened that day. I didn’t want to worry her. I loved my mother I hated to see her hurt or break her heart. This I felt would break her heart. My mother was stressed our household was full of fighting and unhappiness. Our life was not good with Edward. But perhaps I didn’t tell her for fear she wouldn’t leave him and then I would have to hate her and resent her more than I already did for staying with this man. When she came home she knew something had happened and she asked me how I got the scratches on my neck. I said nothing.
My mother’s relationship with this man finally did end of course it took longer than I would have liked. I never understood and still don’t understand the hold he had on my mother. My mother was and still is a beautiful, intelligent and strong woman. I adore her. I recognize the sacrifices she made. Its not easy raising a child alone. I recognize now the complexities of relationships. I harbor no ill will. Outside people may have their opinions about the choices she made or my choice to not speak, but that really doesn’t matter. I am more than just this occurrence. She is more than that particular relationship she was in. And I am OK. My mother is OK. My mother raised me to be a thoughtful, independent and self-reliant woman. I learned how I wanted to be loved, what I expected from a man. I learned to never be weak. I grew from this incident. And sadly in life you sometimes have to learn the hard way, life isn't fair. It would be great if we were all infallible right? When I come back I will do the best of the "ohh the boy I like felt on my booty entries." lol