I am back again.... I am trying to write before my husband wakes up. I have done a lot of thinking in the past few months. Unfortunately, I am unable to express my feelings, in fear of my husband finding out. I am truly lost, it all started a few months ago. I have a picture on my laptop, this picture reminds me of a happier time but saddens me since that time can no longer exist. I put this picture as the background of my computer as a motivator. Some days I can't bear to look at this picture. Everyone says that grieving is a process, I just can't let go of what I had. I know that everyone will die and that is a process of life, but why is it that the one person who never judged me had to die. I know that life isn't fair, but my whole life I have longed for a mother relationship. The moment I had someone who loved me for me, she was ripped out of my life. I have never really opened up about my childhood. I know that I didn't have the worst childhood. But I never had a mother who would listen to me without judging me. I was always being blamed for things that were not my fault. One memory of my mother that describes my mother completely was of my father coming home drunk and he was yelling at my mother for racking up credit card debt again (she would open credit cards in my dad's name as often as she could). He was screaming and instead of admitting to her faults she told my father that I received a B on a science test. He then dropped the argument with her and came into my room. He started hitting me. During this moment my mother stood in the background and did nothing. She didn't stop the attack, she just stood there. At that moment I realized that I didn't have her to depend on. Whenever my father would come home drunk the cycle would repeat itself. I would pray that I could hide because the first chance she got to take the blame off of herself and place the blame onto me she would. I use to imagine that I had a secret trap door in my closet and that I could hide there whenever he would come home drunk. Unfortunately, there was no trap door and I learned not to cry while being hit. If I cried it was a thousand times worse. I had no one to cry out to, since my father was a cop I learned that I couldn't trust anyone.
I used to say that I was sorry for everything. If I dropped a tissue and the first words out of my mouth were I'm sorry. I didn't realize that I would apologize as often as I would until my husband pointed it out to me. I guess I used those words as a defense, because as a child I would apologize for everything. I felt that if I said I'm sorry before he would have a chance to hit me, it would make the punishment less severe.
My mother-in-law was the first person who I opened up to about everything. Before she died she told me how worried she was about how I was going to deal with her death. I told her that I would be fine. But I am not fine. I just want to hear her voice one more time. I am lost.
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