The Scent of Watermelon (8)
Picking up from where I left off in Just my Socks , I was returned. Returned to that crazy house without any hope of getting out. I stayed away from the rabbits after that because it just wasn’t worth it anymore. The aggression and anger that John had towards me was gone. It was almost as if I didn’t exist anymore. I talked and no one listened or responded. They made meals and I had to fend for myself. It was ok because the beatings had stopped, at least for me. My mom was a different story though and it seemed as though her beatings worsened as mine stopped. I assume that his rage had to go somewhere and their arguments continued to get worse. I had no where to go and no one to talk to so I started to sing. I use to use the rabbits as a way to help cope with the hell that I was living, but since I didn’t have them anymore I had to find a way for my mind to escape it. The louder they arguments got, the louder I sang with my finger tips shoved as far into my ear canals as they would physically fit. It seemed to work at first
Meanwhile, back on the west coast, charges were filed against my mom for parental kidnapping. The problem was that no one seemed to know where we had gone. We simply vanished. My dad’s parents helped him to buy a house and set up a room for me hoping that they would find me soon. The girl, Karen, had moved in with with my dad now and they were playing house quite nicely. Neither of their families really approved, and yet no one felt the need to say anything. They said they couldn’t search because they didn’t know where to look so they waited for someone in my mom’s family to hear from her. Everyone just sat back and waited.
My mom wasn’t about to call anyone. She was drunk, she was in love, she was high, she was a victim of domestic abuse and she was pregnant again. Oddly enough, she was happy. Then one night an argument started that got out of hand. I really don’t even know what it was about or what had started it. The yelling and the smacking quickly led to my singing and me plugging my ears. I had to unplug them though when he chased her out
the front door with a baseball bat. I picked up my sister and walked out the front door still humming. I didn’t want to see but had to make sure Mom was going to be okay. The neighbor came over and rushed Jessica and I into her house while calling the police. I watched through the front window. It was raining. I felt like I was watching a movie that I couldn’t turn off. The neighbor did the best she could to bribe me away from the window by giving me watermelon. I sat at the window for what seemed like forever. I ate an entire watermelon while watching the ambulance load my mom up and the cops take John to jail. I ate so much of it I threw up. I still can’t eat watermelon to this day. Even the smell turns my stomach.
I’m not sure how long I slept or where I even stayed. I really just don’t remember. Its funny how this happened to be honest. Most people block out all the horror and trauma that they experience as a child and remember the rainbows and sunshine. My mind has played this cruel joke on me where I have had the horrible luck of remembering all of this hell. These small bits of peace is what I’ve blocked out. Why would that be? I’ve always struggled with this. Did I really block out a good nights sleep or did I experience something even more horrific than the hell I remember? Maybe I just don’t want to know. What I do remember though is John coming home with my mom, or at least a woman that looked just like her. Still pregnant; she a few broken ribs, two blacks eyes, a broken wrist and some cuts a bruises. I’m not sure what changed but my mom was different after that. She didn’t say much or even smile really. She didn’t seem like my mom anymore. What I didn’t know was that her mind was preoccupied planning an escape. I just wish she had included taking me in that plan.
I was really moved by this, on a side note, love the new theme…..
I too have blocked out much of my childhood, and over the course of the last ten years it has slowly come back. Some of it makes me upset, some I very easily remember why I didn’t want to remember it, but all of it moves me.
As a child I lived in my own fantasy world, talking to imaginary friends, pretending I was someone else, so much so I can remember looking in the mirror and being shocked by how I looked. I had myself so convinced that I was someone else, I didn’t remember myself.
I applaud you for what you are doing, even I don’t have the courage to write so detailed about my past.
Have you ever read the book Glass Mirror? I think you could/would relate to it.
Twitch
Twitch – I know exactly what you mean regarding not recognizing who you see in the mirror. Its actually quite frightening. Its taken quite a lot to be able to sit down and write it out. I find it hard to start writing but once I do I’m okay. It isn’t until I go back and read it that it hits me. I have not read Glass Mirror but will definitely check it out. Thanks so much for your thoughts and recommendations. Glad you like the new theme. It seems to be easier on the eyes, at least mine.
-Thy
I’m glad you’ve found an outlet for your moving story. I wonder if the horrible was just so overwhelming your mind couldn’t hold onto the quiet, peaceful moments.
That’s something that I never considered and a great thought. Thanks for sharing it with me
Another truly moving story about your childhood and again I am speechless on the horror you got true. You must be the strongest person I read the story about. I guess there aren’t many people who could cope with such memories. Just like I believe no-one can block out this amount of horror for so many years. I guess there’s just to much that happend to you to block away somewhere deep down inside your mind.
Thank you Marcos. I guess you are right. Thanks again for the supportive words.
oh i’m glad the beatings stopped for you.
waiting to read more..
Thanks for reading. I am working on the next installment and should be done by the end of the week, I hope!
I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that you’ve posted another honest yet horrifying tale of your childhood. Again, what can I say? You rock for being the person that you are today. Truly.
As for Twitch’s suggestion, I concur – I’ve read it and think you might be able to relate to it.
Merci mon amie
Aww. How sweet. Thanks so much! I’m going to look into Glass Mirror.
Oh, and “De rien”
Hey, this was a really good read, very well written.
I hope the pain has been healed somewhat.
Thanks so much for stopping by and sharing your thoughts. I appreciate the kind words. I have had some old wounds reopened recently but am writing my way through this. It has been therapeutic.
The mind does weird things. Sometimes it wants you to remember, other times, it just blocks the horrid thoughts completely.
Is blogging this helping you? Does it relieve or lessen any pain? How about your sister? I see you mentioned in the above comment that it’s theraputic for you. That’s good. You have a wonderful knack for writing. Have you considered making this into a book?
Writing this has been therapeutic in the way that its allowed me to look at things from a different perspective. A lot of the thoughts that I have of these experiences were created when I was still a kid because I had pushed them into the back of my mind way back then and although things came up now and then, I refused to process thoughts about it. I am starting to do that now, but as an adult.
I have considered writing this into book form after some friendly prodding by quite a few people. I started to type a couple of days ago. We’ll see where it leads. Thanks so much for your questions and thoughts.
your story inspires me to write my own. I am still in the process of putting all the pieces together. slowly. it takes a lot to get up th courage to ask for information from my siblings when we have never talked about it. ever, in 45 years.
although my story is not as traumatic as yours. I was blessed with a bad memory as to keep me from being bitter, I see bitterness in my sister who is two years older than me.
I look forward to more installments to your story. Thanks for sharing.
on another note… I just had a visit to my endocronologist. He said I have both hashimotos and graves and they compete against one another at times… right now my throid is actually “normal” right now however he said that won’t last. and the next time it will be the hash. that acts up. I only hope I don’t gain as much weight as I lost from the graves.
I would definitely have to encourage you to write. I put it off for as long as I did because I really didn’t see the point in it. I really didn’t realize how helpful it would be, kind of like a way to let go of it all.
So sorry to hear about the diagnosis from your endo, but at least you were properly diagnosed so I am thankful for that much. I’m glad t hear that you are stable right now, if only for a little while. Hashi’s has take over for me and my thyroid appears to be failing. They found another nodule about a week ago and my TPO was greater than 1000. Even with that horror, I’ve only gained 6 pounds. I hope that this is some helpful news in the weight department. Stay on top of it and start your writing journey. Thanks for reading and sharing with me.
It just gets sadder and sadder…it’s amazing how smells can spark off memories. Can’t wait for the next installment.
Thanks for reading. I will be posting the next one tomorrow.
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The last sentence….
I can’t help but close my eyes and try to breathe. Please don’t tell me she left you with that man. I am scared to read the next one.
I wish I would have found you before now.