Dispatches From ‘Home’

Mother insisted on picking me up from Harborne in her car.  She commented on the hospital wristband I am still wearing.  ‘It’s to remind me of who I am and when I was born, you know, in case I forget.’

‘Is that from when he hit you?’

I winced.  Mother’s voice is an assault on the ears.

‘I believe the legal terminology is ‘common assault, Mother.  At least, that’s what they’re charging him with.’

We didn’t discuss it any further.  She would only trivialise and belittle what happened to me.  This is the same person who held a seven year old child responsible for the actions of a thirty something sociopath (Yes, we are talking about my father here.).

And, to this day, I still can’t understand that.

That masochistic gene that seems to run in my mother’s family (at least amongst the women) seems to be absent in me. (Thank goodness). Mother began talking about her sister, M.  (I am hesitant to call her my aunt – not after what she has done.)  She is taking her daughter, J. to court in an attempt to gain access to her grandchildren.  J. was abused by her stepfather when she was very young.  She revealed this in 1999 and her stepfather admitted it.  The most sickening part of this whole sordid story is that her mother chose to forgive her husband. She was waiting for him when he came out of prison.  I find this unforgivable but my mother, as always, joins the exodus from judgement.  M. has labelled J. an evil liar.  She does not deny that her husband molested her daughter but suggests that she is exaggerating the extent of it in order to gain revenge and to increase the amount of criminal injuries compensation she received.  Several thousand pounds, I believe.  In my oh so humble opinion several million pounds wouldn’t be sufficient to compensate J. for the double injustice of being abused as a child and then being abandoned by her mother in adulthood. What I don’t understand is if M feels that her daughter is so evil then why is she so desperate for access to the children that emerged from her womb.

I saw the Living Ghost of Bella in the sitting-room of my parents’ home – sitting on the sofa.  Was she communicating with me psychically? ;-)

Little had changed.  Mother still waits on my father and my mother hand, foot and fingernail, as well as paying all of the bills. My brother still treats her as though she is something he has just scraped off the sole of his shoe. But there is nothing I can do about that.  (And, believe me, I have tried).  I cannot intervene and I refuse to even try.