There's the beginning..
now, here's my beginning.
Started before I can even remember.. but, thanks to letters that I located that my mother wrote to my father when I was younger (which she never sent - just kept), I have a glimpse of how it began. He went to work construction shortly after we returned to Minnesota. I was 4 or 5 when he switched companies which based him out of the cities. Due to this, he was never home and stayed where the work was until the weekends arrived.
As I said, he would be gone all week.
She stated in her letters how I would be such a good girl and that I didn't act out. It wasn't until Thursday would hit that I would start acting out and misbehaving. My mom would write asking for him to have patience with me..
I always wondered..
why couldn't she see that he was the issue? Was it easier to just pretend that there wasn't a reason behind a pattern? Did she just not care enough to protect her own daughter? I've never confronted her about this. But, I will always wonder how a woman could love a man so much to not see the pain her daughter was in. Or is it just easier to live in denial? I wrote a short "note" about my feelings on this a few years back.
It went like this..
"Why didn't you save me while you could? Why did you leave me alone with that Monster? Why didn't you listen when I cried for help? Now, I'm just a tormented adult. Living ins this nightmare and trapped within it's cold embrace."
[to be continued..]
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