Blasting Away the Brittle Edges……

For the many who may be dealing with those connections to toxic family members, the ones who do not have the empathy to even share a single drop of emotion for your pain; I would like for you to take out the power sword and blast away the brittle edges left by their senseless attempts at breaking through our barriers of strength. We have our defenses on, we are no longer the children who cried for their help; we are now the ones who hold the magic and although we may not smooth out all of the brokeness within, we will succeed at being our own protectors. Not cold, but disenchanted by their attempts to gain access to our castles.

The day started out pretty good for me today, but then it happened. My phone rang and I recognized the number from a call I had received the other day. It was her, It was ‘Mother’!!!

About 4 years ago I cut off contact with her. It was a must do situation. There is way too much darkness attached to her and being around her, even hearing her voice, used to send my emotions reeling into a panicked frenzy, but not today. It was like a strength that slowly crept up through the depth of my guts and into my heart and then throughout the limbs.

I really found that I was past all this emotional response to her actions. Many times I’ve just shut out her messages, mainly because that voice cuts through to my soul and leaves the jagged edges behind.

I tell myself, “Remember it was her that ALLOWED the rot, the beatings, the molestation, the rapes. She never asked a question or said a word in defense of the child “He” was destroying; building into his own private little whore.”

So as my world got rocked again today, it took a few minutes but I was able to blast away the brittle edges left by the sound of her voice in my phone. It’s not that I answered, it did go to voice mail, but then I listened. Bink told me not to, he warned me I’d get worked up and at first it did just that, a sudden little fleet of panic struck in, but just as quick it was conquered by a sense of knowing what I’m doing and what I did by publishing my story was exactly what needed to be done.

She almost had me exactly where she wanted me though. I couldn’t believe she had threatened me and called Authorhouse to rant and rave about the book. She even ordered them to cancel the publication. This just goes to show the mentality of  “Mother”. She recognizes no one’s pain but her own. She ignores the arms that reached out for her to hold me, simply give me her approval and act like she loved me.

So instead of allowing myself to get geared into a panic and fury over what she had tried to do, I took a breath, had a cigarette and returned to my cleaning. As I was vacuuming the ceilings, washing the fans, cleaning the windows; it suddenly dawned on me that the rough brittle edges left by her messages and the sound of her voice, were all falling away. I was able to blast them away without any emotion left behind.

I’m not angry over the message or her actions, as I said it just shows the mentality of the woman I used to call “Mother”.

I’m not crying from her attempt once again to slash at my spirit and break down all that I’ve been building these past few years.

I’m not feeling any sense of loss or grieving over not having the bond that I used to hope we would somehow find together.

I am still standing, I am still strong, I am still determined, I am still continuing on my journey, brushing the dust away from the NOW smoothed curves of my soul. I am amazed at me!!!

This is what I’ve been hoping to achieve. The absolute power I have to erase the mere thought of her attempts to break in once again. This is a very powerful feeling, very invigorating, very encouraging. I am no longer the child clinging to the hopes that one day she would be strong enough to share these words to the daughter she left to grow up in hell; “I’m Sorry”.

She is much to focused on her and when she read a bit of the book, she couldn’t even have a heart to show compassion for the child who struggled so hard to live. She didn’t acknowledge the fights with “Him” to just be a kid rather than be subjected to his evil disgust. She was merely worried about people recognizing the towns we lived in, the houses we lived in. Actually one bit was, “I have friends and they remember me picking up the dirty clothes from your floor and out of your drawer, do you want people to know that about you?”

Ok Folks, Up until I was about 11 and old enough to work a washing machine and dryer, guess who says she used to dig out my clothes and dress me appropriately? I’ve got a fourth grade school photo, that shows the teeth caked with plaque. It also shows the hair greasy and unkept, the clothes are wrinkled and if I remember correctly they we actually a bit small. This is the truth “Mother” feels I should be ashamed of myself for; unbelievable!!! Out of the first bit of the book she read, which with her message had to be at least the first five chapters or so; this is what she picks out as a problem!!!

To this I must say, “She still doesn’t see that anything was wrong in our house.” For those of you who have read a bit about my history or even seen what I share each day as an advocate, now “Mother” has become just another sociopath with a narcissistic personality who permitted atrocities within her home, to her daughter, but believes she is still carrying the power to control. This will never happen again!!!

My castle has become strong. I enjoy my life, I love what I do and feel comforted in knowing that many have read “My Justice”, even those from my past, and have come to let me know that I empower them to keep fighting their way through. Here it is everyone!!! We may indeed be a bit broken, but we are in control and now we have the power to either accept them into our lives on our terms or disengage from them either slightly or completely.

Never let the abusers of our past destroy the castles of strength we build today. We control the drawbridge!!

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One thought on “Blasting Away the Brittle Edges……

  1. Trish, this blog post is awesome … and good for you. Your mom doesn’t deserve any consideration. Sorry, but she’s despicable. With every page I turn of your book, her role in all this completely flabberghasts me. She’s heartless and self-centred. And to think all she’s worried about is how to explain about picking up and cleaning up after you? Nuts! Or she has the worst case of denial I have ever seen. She is so unable to admit the wrong she did you, that like him, or my dad, or anyone who abuses another, they find some way to justify their evil actions and absolve themselves of blame. Mother? She doesn’t deserve the name given to those who love and cherish their children and put their children before themselves. Ugh! She revolts me!

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