I did it again, I was blog strolling and came across something that I have written and have experienced. So now I have to run my mouth a little bit more before I go to sleep. To write this out this way doesn’t feel like licking old wounds, it feels like confirming the experience that caused the wound and reconfirming my stance to never return to danger zones.

I didn’t leave home, not exactly. I was chased out of the house. I told the woman no. She wasn’t having it. She said, get out here or get out.  I said, okay. I went to put on my shoes and the next thing you know I’m running out of the door and down the hallway. To show you how dreamlike this was, I pushed the elevator button and stood there for a second as this 5’11 black woman comes barreling down the hallway. Let me give a little advice okay, if the above happens to you, don’t wait for the elevator, TAKE …THE.. STAIRS! It finally clicked that I should take the stairs. Just before the door closed I heard her say something to me that I have never understood. She said, “Go on, hurt yourself.”

That could be taken in so many different ways but with my mother I only know one way.

As a child I was specifically told that I could not live without her. Since she set herself up as a god, it was in my head that I didn’t physically exist without her.

Several years after she chased me from the house I was driving my car close to the Kentucky border. I wondered if I crossed the border without her would I cease to exist, would I just poof, be gone? It was a real fear, one she worked hard to brainwash into me.

There are still times when I hear old tapes from my mother. There are times when the sound of her voice is louder than the voice of anyone else. I think early on it was so because I was new at living without her. Later it may have been so because I was afraid of living without the constant that I knew (abuse) and finally, her voice just …got… old. When I struggle with her voice now I’m willing to question it. Once I knew in my heart she isn’t God, then her word was no longer gospel.

Growing Into Scars - on Sundrip - Art for LifeI remember being afraid of not believing her. In my own home across town or several states over, I was afraid she’d find out that I questioned her thoughts of me. I can recount the words she used that I felt were branded on my face so that everyone else could see it too and be warned. Deep, deep in me I believed it. I believed that I could manipulate the best therapists, that I was such a good liar that I could pull anyone in. I believed that I was inherently evil.

Honestly, it took experience out of her house and reason to realize that she was wrong. It is not possible for me to be so bad and so evil that I can manipulate the best in the field. Sorry but Faith Austin just ain’t that good at lying, deceiving, conniving and destroying all things related to my mother. That was the biggest thing. She said I was destroying her life. She never said I destroyed my sister’s life or her mother ,father or sisters. Nope. Her life. She said she’d never marry again because of me. Never did she say, you’re denying your sister a father. It was all about her.

When I was younger I just don’t think I could have reasoned in that way because I was still so deep in it. I mean, for the first 10 years of therapy I still had contact with her. She was something else!!! Once I had just a bit of time where that connection was broken and those messages by her were contradicted with reason then I could say, no, I’m not a liar. No, I’m not the reason your life went all wrong. Yes, I exist without you and I can thrive without you. I have my hardships both physically and emotionally, but I also have moment’s of thriving. I did not have that as a child.

I hate it. I hate that I can thrive without the one person I gave my dignity to just to have a shot at her loving me. I’m going to always want to be someone’s daughter. Is that the survivor in me or just the human side? I’ll always struggle with having no family name, but I have not forgotten the reason I said ‘no’ or why I put my shoes on that night. I have not forgotten why I left.


Related Posts

No need to feel nervous, comment if you'd like.

%d bloggers like this: