I know she lied but I guess when you use the word “lie” out loud it sounds and lands much differently from when its heard inside. My mother lied. My abusers lied. In my head it lands with a soft but haunting thud. My mother lied. My abusers lied. Out loud it nearly knocks me off my feet. For the first time ever someone told me in those words, “She lied to you.” I mean I know she did but to say it out loud is to make it all her fault and take the blame off of me. Truthfully, I still blame myself for some things but what is more, I still feel bad inside and I still am willing to believe on some levels that this abuse story I tell can’t really be true. To say she lied means I am believed. To believe me is to confirm that I am a good liar and can convince good and honest people to turn against the mother. It is so confusing. In my head it’s a secret but out loud it’s a conspiracy to bring the woman that gave birth to me down in a ball of slanderous flames.
Every September for as long as I can remember we went to my grandfather’s old orphanage. It’s a historical place and a beautiful one too. I have very fond memories of it especially hanging by the duck pond in paddle boats or laying beside geese gazing at the starry sky. I have amazing memories from that place. Continue reading ‘A Conditioned Liar’
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