69/100 ::The absence of gravity:: Every day was wrought with fear of impending violence. I, as all children are, was wired to reach for my mother for protection in the face of danger. Her hollow words: “I love you, I would give my life for you” disintegrated at the slightest pressure to manifest.
In the free fall of panic my abuse engulfed me in—her embrace never caught me. Her arms echoed what having a mother must feel like, but those same arms held me out to feed me to the wolves again and again. My world lacked ground, it was a bottomless anti-gravity chamber of torture. The faces that mouthed the seeds of my brainwashing: "no one is loved more than you” “we give you everything and you don’t appreciate it” “other children are jealous of what amazing parents you have”—those same faces were emotionless cold conductors of shrouded violence so dark society seems paralyzed to even speak the words: “child rape”
This incongruity of reality left me in a nauseated tailspin. Only recently have I begun to find the ground.
To those not educated in attachment disorders, the way they manifest in parent/child relationships can be counter-intuitive. My mother was a body in the room but I could never reach her—forever insatiated I was desperately clingy to her. She seemed to consider this our “connection”. Not knowing any better I understood my desperation as love. My memories of his violence are confused and coded in my mind. Her abuse is clear and raw—more damaging. I parented her, loved her, and continually attempted to comfort her in her grief. I carried both of us through our nightmare, I gave her the sunshine I fought so hard for because her world was terminally dark.
Today grieving her comes with sharp pain. I see her lack, her smallness, her inability to parent. I put my everything in her hands, I was incapable of seeing her faults. Mourning her, as living with her, is centered not on her—but her absence. Clarity washes over me: I never had a mother so I can freely leave the one who posed as one. This simplicity shines on my soul, each step more liberating. It allows new gravity to pool at my feet so, grounded, I can feel my lightness—for this I am so grateful.