My Mother always loved the tree of life and it’s been haunting me since her death. There’s something kind of morbidly funny in that no? She’s been haunting me lately. It feels like I’ll never escape her. Jesus can always reject his father but he cannot escape his mothers blood he’ll scream and try to wash it off of his fingers but he’ll escape what he’s made up of and such. I have her eyes, apparently. Not that I would know, I don’t remember her face or her voice. I don’t remember anything of the woman who made me. It doesn’t upset me. I had a necklace not long after her death, it was the tree of life. A stupid little silver thing, my father bought it for me. I don’t know where it is now, and I don’t really care, truthfully.
A man’s heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn’t like a mother’s womb. It won’t bleed. It won’t stretch to make room for you. I keep seeing this quote and it makes me unwell to think of. She did not stretch nor make room for me. She didn’t like me, and heaven forbid the concept of her loving me. Maybe she spread her poison to me, really who’s to say. She was a cold woman. For as long as I can remember, she was cold. Maybe it’s fitting that my only [mostly] complete memory of her is her cold body. You know I heard her death rattle? I was only a child I didn’t know what I was hearing. I thought she was snoring. It took me a decade to have that revelation. What a cruel master fate can be.
I was recommended for a PTSD evaluation when I was 8 years old. I was described as being overly clingy and inappropriate. It was written that I had night terrors every single night and had a very hard time sleeping. My parents did not follow up; of course they didn’t. Why would I ever expect otherwise. I was bitten in the face by the family dog when I was 1. I was vageuly aware something along those lines had happened to me, I have a little scar under my eye from it. Much less visible now than when I was younger. I didn’t know how young I was when it had happened though. I also saw the medical records from my mystery abdominal pain that turned out to be a kidney stone. My parents didn’t follow up on it, because of course they didn’t. why did i expect anything else? My support worker called my medical records “puzzle pieces” that I can try and put together since she knows I remember next to nothing of most of my life.
It’s all so surreal.
If someone asks me about my mother again I’m going to blow my brains out in front of them.
━━━ Valentine.
txto