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Memory #5

June 6, 2012
Portrait of a mother and son, ca. 1800

Portrait of a mother and son, ca. 1800 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When I was a little girl, my brother used to tell me really scary things before I went to bed. He also did strange pranks such tie a string to a shoe and pull it up the steps after I went to bed. My parents heard this but never said anything. My Dad was half deaf but I am sure my Mother heard it. She probably helped my brother come up with his plan to scare me. The sound of what sounded like a someone climbing the staircase really frightened me. I had my own room and slept by myself. So many night I was terrified. My heart would race and I slept on my back and would not move. My Mother would not let me have a night-light. She didn’t believe in wasting electricity.

I think it was the night that my brother fixed up cans outside my window that I became so horrified that I screamed. My Mother came into the room and asked what was wrong with me. I told her I was afraid something was trying to get me. I was just a little girl. She told me to be quiet and to go to sleep. She left the room by saying she wished something would get me. The light was off and I was left alone with my fear. There was nothing I could do to get help or comfort.

I cannot imagine a Mother letting an older child terrorize a young child. I can’t imagine a Mother being so cold and cruel to a terrified child. I never received kindness, hugs or warmth from my Mother.

As I am writing this blog, I am beginning to see more clearly that my Dad was so oblivious to what was going on right under his nose. He was not completely deaf so he had to be aware of some of the things that went on in our house.

There was a little follow-up to my brother. He terrorized me for years and years with scary stories and scary antics. Many years later, when he was a teenage, something spooked him. Something pecked at his window after he went to bed. He jumped out of bed and ran into my parent’s room. He was really frightened. I have no idea what happened. I can’t say that I had much sympathy for him though. My Mother had plenty of comfort and sympathy for him naturally. Her little boy was scared. He was 16 years old or so.

  1. Your dad was probably beat-down (psychologically) by your mother, too. He was the silent pawn, afraid to make waves. Writing is one of the best healing tools we have. I’m proud of you for making this step. You will find others who have been through this, and won’t feel so alone. I’m here for you during this process…

  2. Thank you so much for your note. It means a lot to me. You are right about my Dad. I have been reading on your blog too. You have been through so much. I like your blog a lot. I hate the hard things you have been through though. Thank you for being there.

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