5:09pm est

dr. d asked me to tell him again about the mice and maggots. i knew what he was doing. i understand that by saying it out loud it loses it’s strength, but i didn’t want to go down that road. i did. i know the only thing left is the emotion. i’m not in danger anymore and I can manage remembering the sounds and smelling rot and decay.

i went over one story in detail which i outline in this entry. inside i felt like that fourth grader who acted like they weren’t there, who picked up the bodies of hundreds of mice and tossed them. i could hear, just like back then. some mice die louder than others. they scream when their legs are torn off by the glue traps. they’ll leave legs, arms, a tail behind… just to get free.

they played in my urine soaked mattress. in the fourth grade i was still wetting the bed. i think it stopped in the 8th grade. anyway, i’d just pretend the mice weren’t there. in pitch black, while trying to sleep, while trying to listen for footsteps of my mother or catch her shadow, i’d hear them scream. i swear it was something out of silence of the lambs. i didn’t know of that movie for years after it came out. heck, i know why she got up in the middle of the night to investigate. but i wouldn’t dare. no matter what is heard, smelled or seen there’s only one way to handle it – act like everything is okay. no matter how brutal or how afraid you are, act like everything is okay. look away. just look away. put your head in a book, anything.

my mother held the same job. we weren’t poor. some of our nicest houses had nothing but trash in them, piled up, full of mice and maggots. she’d go to her job and we’d go to school then either go back to that trash heap or sleep in the car…in the car!!! i bring up this point because i think its important to remember that you can’t buy safety with money. vacations were supplied. shopping sprees supplied, big houses, little houses, apartments, whatever, but never a safe bed to sleep in. college educated, doesn’t matter. nationality, race, creed, no matter. abuse knows no boundaries. her money got me nothing but a panoramic view while my face is smashed in the mattress. her money got us nothing so please never think that somehow life is better for those with a little more. abuse of all kinds, spoken or physical, domestic, overt or covert, just like any other cancer, abuse knows no bounds.

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