Dreams

The other day I was reminded of the expanding wake my mother has left in the lives of the children that lived under her. I wonder if this is why forgiveness still eludes me. The effects are still fresh, maybe not for me, for those other little ones I left behind. It makes me angry and I feel helpless.

My brother told me a few days ago that he has nightmares where she is still hurting him. He hasn't lived with her for years. He hasn't spoken to her for months and still she can sneak into his dreams. The place where we should feel the safest. I used to be a protector of my siblings. When I lived at home they were "mine". A distraction, if you will. I would never be able to say it was a selfless thing for me to "take the blows" for them. I imagine it is a lot like the men and women who serve in the army. No one wants to run out on the battle field without knowing what they are fighting for. It was what needed to be done. I couldn't stand watching her beat my baby brother and sister...the oldest being only 9 when I left for college. I did it so that I never had to feel helpless over them. I couldn't do anything to save myself and it gave me some kind of peace to protect someone else. When I left for college they all took me to the airport. We sat and waited for the call to board the plane. As it grew near, my little brother's grip got tighter and tighter around my arm. We'd had a special bond. He was 8 years old then. He had always been a child that you really couldn't "read". A bit unemotional if you will. I don't know if that was personality or his environment. He smiled for me though. I have a picture of him now, my favorite of him, sitting on the counter stirring a jug of homemade tea...with the biggest smile. At the airport...it was time to go and he just broke down in sobs!!! I knew something was wrong and I knew he'd miss me. I knew I had to go but I wanted to stay at the same time. He cried and cried. We hugged and I had to walk away. I cried much of the 2 hour plane ride. His instincts were right. He knew he was walking back into his own personal hell and there was no one left to save him. Now he is haunted. I can remember having those same kind of dreams. They began when I started my first group "counseling". When I stopped speaking to my mother they came on with a vengeance. I'd wake up screaming or crying. Evan would have to soothe me back to sleep. I could actually feel the fists hitting me. When I woke up I would have to sort reality from what had happened in my dream. They were so real. When I was pregnant with Eli, my dreams were horrendous. I would dream that she had kidnapped me and tied me to a pole in the cellar. She kept me there until I went into labor and then would steal my son. I can remember, in real life, people accidentally bumping my stomach and I would immediately become defensive and grab my stomach with both hands. The fear was that real!!! But slowly the dreams changed. I was working, in real life, at overcoming a lot of my fear. I was beginning to realize how powerless she was. In my dreams she still kidnapped me, or beat me...but someone would come and rescue me. Sometimes it was Evan and other times it was his mother. They would come and find me. Being locked in my mother's basement did not mean I disappeared from the thoughts of everyone that loved me. She couldn't steal me away because they could not forget me. I had a place in life...in there lives. I had a place where I belonged and it was not in her basement!! In fact a few months would pass ans soon my dreams were changing again. I was the one beating her! When she hit me I would hit back!! I could actually feel the victorious feeling I might have had if I had ever been able to fight back as a child. In my dreams, I was even able to rescue my brothers and sisters. I got them out of the house and they came home with me...they were safe. I could stand up to her in my dreams and IT FELT GOOD!!! I know now if I were ever to come face to face with her she would wither. I am not afraid of the monster who used to haunt me. It is probably best that we don't see each other though...all I want to do is punch her in the face. I can also promise you that I would go "mother bear" on her if she ever ever EVER laid half a finger on one of my babies!!!

To my brother I say I am here, sweet little boy!

Then my youngest sister had a question for me. She is 12 and will be 13 in April. She will never be sent back home and is young enough to be considered for adoption. I know that the people who take care of her have told her that this is coming. She has asked me twice to adopt her. Believe me, I couldn't make this up! There is no precedent for something like that. It makes me so angry to be put in a situation like this! I can't adopt her. There are the monetary reasons and the fact that all the rooms in our home are occupied. The main reason is that I have never raised a teenager. I don't know what to do with the emotional needs of a teenager especially one with her damaging past. I am not what is best for her. I think she is scared and I would be too. I hate having to tell her that she can't come live with me. It weighs heavy on me. I feel like I am abandoning her...throwing her to the wolves. The worst part is my final reason for saying no to her. I don't know the details but the caseworkers who are in charge of the case against my mother have eluded to my youngest sister being a victim of sexual abuse. I believe that they have gotten her some help after finding this out but how can I bring her into my home? How could I put my own children at risk? Even if it is a small risk it is a risk just the same. I am not willing to sacrifice my children. What happened in that home is not my fault and therefore, not my responsibility. Now, if only I could really be at peace with that bit of truth.