Rose on Cracked Linen
Cheri Blum
Buy This Art Print At AllPosters.com
Rose on Cracked Linen
Cheri Blum
Buy This Art Print At AllPosters.com
By:Heide Kaminski
As a child I had to put up with the mental abuse by my mother. Something had gone awry in her relationship with my dad and he left us when I was four years old. My sister, 14 years older than me, by then had escaped our mother’s grip by marrying early. My brother, 18 years my senior had left the house, when he was 15. Thus I was left all alone to fend off this person who gave birth to us, but did not know how to love.On a continuous basis I had to listen to what a bastard he was and then...
always...
“and you are just like him!”She went through many boyfriends then, even though she always taught me that all men are scum. Someone, one of them maybe, left that very impression on me as well around that time. I do not remember the details as my brain has blocked all memories and will not even let me access anything during hypnosis but vivid images of monsters.
My mother did nothing. She just ran. We moved far away...
I developed a split personality. The little girl as whom I was born, lay dormant. Another one emerged. One who could deal with my mother, one who could behave in a way that this woman could actually show some affection to.By about 10 years old, however, the real me, begged to come out. The price was high.
Accept that I would not be loved.
I began developing depression, reaching its peak in my late teens and early twenties, resulting in several suicide attempts. I was in an identity crisis. There was this little girl, who desperately wanted to be loved by her mother and then there was this little girl, who desperately wanted to be herself. In denying myself my true me for so long, I was in a constant internal struggle. WHO was I??? Destructive thoughts were interrupted with desperate attempts to find love in other ways:
I threw myself at boys. Not being the prettiest girl on the block, I nonetheless had no lack:
I was easy!Somewhere inside I guess, I always knew that this wasn’t the right way either. So deep down inside the dark thoughts festered. Until my early twenties all of these dark and destructive thoughts were aimed at myself. Then I met Manuel.
He became the physical manifestation of all my emotional pain. During the first half of this year of almost daily beatings, my dark thoughts deep inside turned against myself again. I figured what my mother had said must be true, I was bad, a bastard’s child, no one would ever love me.
When I attempted and survived my third and most serious suicide attempt during this time, a change occurred within me. My dark thoughts deep inside turned outward. They no longer focused on me, they began to focus on the perpetrators in my life. Manuel was the first one.
I began to imagine ways of him getting killed. I visualized him getting hit by a car. I thought about mixing poisonous mushrooms into his dinner. I put a pair of scissors under my pillow and envisioned defending myself with them, when he attacked me the next time. I figured a life in prison would be better than a life with him. But then I got scared. Feared that he would find and use the scissors first...
I finally did manage to escape his grip, but only to fall prey to another batterer. This time, the violence didn’t emerge so harshly until after I married him. Again, the dark thoughts deep inside me focused on him rather than myself. I envisioned him getting drunk and crashing his truck into a tree. Going on a hunting trip and having his shotgun backfire on him, crashing through the ice while ice-fishing. Someone getting mad at him at a bar and beating the living daylight out of him.
I felt guilty for having these thoughts. But they were easier to deal with than self destructive thoughts. Again, I did the right thing. I finally got out.
Here I am, years later, remarried, going through a crisis. My husband has been laid off for several months now and it is putting a major strain on the number one marriage stress factor: finances...
While he does not hit, he does lash out with words. Unjustified and angry words. Targeted at me and my children. Instead of admitting that he is depressed he drags everyone around him down with him. I feel I have exhausted my patience and forgiveness. And there they come creeping up on me again. Dark thoughts deep inside. Maybe it would be better if he just disappeared. Maybe we’d be better off without him. Maybe he can get in one of his road rage fights and get shot or end up crashing.
I ask God to forgive me for these evil thoughts. I ask God to help me forgive myself. At least I have a guilty conscience about this. I know I was born innocent. So sometimes I wonder about the people, who planted these dark thoughts deep inside of me.
Do they feel guilty?
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