Choosing Sides. Amnesia?

My last post made me think. I was thinking about it all day, thinking about that and more.

That was not the first time I had encountered my stepfather when he was angry, nor would it be the last. What it made me realize, though, is that every time something like that happened… I moved out. He was not kicked out. My mother did not leave him. I was the one who left; I was the one who, essentially, was told she was in the wrong. At least, that’s how it feels now.

I spoke with my mother that day. I asked her several things, mostly about my childhood, before and after that specific incident. I fibbed to her a little bit, not stating that I awoke in the middle of the night nearly screaming because of the memory of it happening appearing in my dream. No, I didn’t want that to haunt her, knowing that she put her oldest child and only daughter at risk; I didn’t want that. I did call her that day with a purpose that day.

Throughout the whole day I had been thinking, going through my memories of the incidences and there are only three specific times that I can remember living at my mother’s while she was with my stepfather and then having to move back in with my Grandparents after something happened. Two of which have to do with my stepfather. One of them, there is a 2-3 week blank in my memory, starting with my last day of school when I lived with my mother and stepfather & beginning again with my first day back after winter break at a new school and living with my Grandparents again. Somewhere in-between that timeframe of 2-3 weeks something happened and I moved out.

I was in fifth grade. It was exactly a year before I had my seizure, leading to my diagnosis of epilepsy.

My mother could remember the incident of my stepfather chasing me through the house in a rage and me running to my room in fright, closing the door behind me and locking the door and him bursting it open, breaking the lock then hovering over me cowering on my bed, with his fist above his head; she could remember that clearly. That was the summer before I advanced to third grade.

My mother could remember the incident in ninth grade, the incident from the previous post. All of these were at least 10 years ago.

So how does she not remember the incident from the winter of my fifth grade year? I had called my aunt, her sister, before I called my mother to ask about it because, honestly, I was afraid of asking my mother. But my aunt didn’t have an answer; she didn’t know.

I can’t even give you a straight answer on what my mother told me. She was vague and tried to stay away from the topic of what happened. In the end, though, she did blame it on the fact of “that might have been when your absence seizures started”.  Absence seizures being basically when I space out. That’s the only outward sign and then I have no recollection of what happened during said time period of the seizure. They normally last 3-5 SECONDS.

How do I tell my mother, who definitely knows all the information about my epilepsy & the types of seizures I have, that there’s no way it could have erased 2-3 weeks of my memory and that I have AMNESIA. How do I tell her that she’s lying and it’s so obvious it’s ridiculous? How? What could have happened to me?

My husband thinks that there’s a possibility that something severe happened to me and she’s covering up for my stepfather. Honestly, I don’t doubt it. It just makes me worried because nobody will tell me, even more-so because she is still with my stepfather.

I’m scared.

 

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Talking and Happiness

My fiance and I never fight. Seriously. We don’t. It isn’t that I don’t get upset or angry with him and it’s not that he doesn’t get upset or angry with me, it’s the fact that even if I am p*ssed off with him and I bring it up, he’ll avoid any sort of arguement or confrontation; he won’t answer a question directly either. Or, in the opposite view, if he’s angry or upset with me he won’t bring it up at all! He’ll just walk away! Yes, I’m able to tell that he’s angry and upset, but he won’t let me do anything about it. He won’t let me try and talk about it.

I tried to bring it up last night. I did.

Something happened that made him angry. He just, basically, shut himself off. He looked stony, apathetic if you didn’t know him or what to look for; he had stopped talking and was very tense, his eyes were cold, angry. I told him to go listen to some music or watch a movie and calm down. (I knew that’s what he was going to do anyway, so why not suggest it?) I stayed in a different room from my fiance, peeking in on him to see what he was doing. As luck would have it, he was watching “Silent Hill: Revalation”; he never watches horror/thriller movies, so I took it as a bad sign. (What he watches and/or listens too varies upon his mood, like a lot of people.)

I finally started talking to him from the next room. I told, not asked, my fiance that “y’know, sometimes I would rather you just yell at me when you’re upset or angry than say nothing at all because then at least I would know what you’re upset about, because even when I ask you about it you don’t answer”.

There was a pause, and he said something along the lines of “I’m not that kind of person”. And I just blanched. Really? Not that kind of person?

So I said [something like] “Then how are we going to communicate? Going to talk at all? When there are issues between us are we just going to ignore them?”

And you won’t believe what he said [to the extent of]: “What issues?” I wanted to roll my eyes. I think I DID roll my eyes. The conversation was already wearing me out; it really was!

I yelled back at him (because we were in different rooms, I couldn’t talk in a normal-toned voice) “I don’t know, the fact that we can talk about mundane things but not important or serious things? That when you’re upset or I’m upset we can’t comfort each other because quote-unquote ‘you’re not that type of person’. Those kind of issues. I don’t know.”

We didn’t say much from there; that’s about all that really sticks in my mind. It just bothers me though. Yeah, we talk, but like I said in the conversation last night: it’s normally just about mundane things, or it’s a one-sided rant on something important with the other person inserting an opinion or word here/there every once and a while. No, we don’t talk at each other, we actually listen to each other, that much is obvious, but there’s just something wrong with our communication that needs fixed and he doesn’t seem to see it. Yeah, he’ll comfort me when I’m crying by hugging me, but if he knows he’s the cause of it? Nope. No hug. In fact, he’ll completely ignore the fact that I’m crying or that I have been, even when it’s completely obvious – like last night.

No, he’s not cold-hearted. He’s just been hurt and has a ways to heal. He’s dealt with a lot in his life and I think I’m truly the first one to not hurt him or treat him in ways that others have in the past. We’ve been together almost two years and he’s changed a lot, but I don’t think I’ve broken down all of the walls yet and I know it’ll take a while yet.

I just… I hope I remember to ask him [again] tonight what I asked him last night. I only realized earlier that he avoided the question last night, which kind of furthers my point.

I told him last night that one of my deepest fears that I worry over constantly is that one day my children will drive him away, cause they’re a lil’ on the wild side, in a manner of speaking. (I added a couple of other descriptions last night to try and lighten the mood.) I did ask him, though. And I was crying a bit, though I was trying not to. He changed the subject, but only slightly, by saying that he’d been meaning to bring home earplugs to block out the screeching from my youngest child who screeches and screams when he’s unhappy, and all that it takes for my youngest to be unhappy is for me to be out of the room. 😦

And that was the end of the conversation. He’s probably going to be angry when I bring it up again. P*ssed, even, but I’m going to. I can’t stand not knowing when I’ve already asked and it’s bugging me even more because he didn’t answer. Normally not answering something doesn’t bode well.

I think this time I might even tell him that if he’s that unhappy, or if he’s staying just to make me happy, then he has the right to leave. No, I don’t want him to. That’s the last thing in the world I want to happen. Part of my world would die if that happened; he truly is the love of my life, but I don’t want him to be unhappy because of me.

I love him and all I want is for him to be happy and if I don’t make him happy anymore, so be it.

More Than Just Blogging

Hey, all who read this! What’s up?

This is a friendly update to let you know:

Oh yeah, I write more things than what I write on this blog. Did I forget to mention that?

Of course, everybody who’s read the “About” section of my blog probably knows that already. Along with this blog I write poems, short stories, and am working on various novels and novellas. I do have two poems in print, and they won first and second prizes in widespread contests, but that was at least five years ago. It’s harder now, at least it seems like it.

I’m not big on posting my writings on the Internet, but I found a site that I’m willing to do so. Earlier in the month I posted the link in the upper right corner: deviantART is the name of the site.

But that’s not necessarily what I meant either.

Sure, that’s the majority of what I meant, but not the full story so to speak.

I thnk I’ve mentioned this before, but I when I write, I write with meaning. Sure, it doesn’t always seem so and I know for a fact that sometimes I rant, but can you honestly say that at some point in time you haven’t learned from someone else’s mistake? Or that you’ve never read something someone wrote and it just clicked with you, even though it was one of the most random things you’ve ever read?

That’s what I do.

I try to write about things I know; I will never write otherwise. To me, that’s like lying. Why would you write about something if it wasn’t dear to your heart or affected you in some way?

I’ve written about the measles; it was an informative article, sort of, but it also told you why I was writing it. I wrote that article because my son had contracted it because even though he’d been vaccinated. Did you know that now there’s articles going up about “anti-vaccination protests” and “parents for vaccines not speaking up”? It’s a contradiction, but a story for another post.

I’ve written about government programs and income problems; I’ve written about moving and renting houses. I’ve done before and after articles as I try to work out where I went wrong.

Can you tell me that if you were going through the same problems and saw the articles that it wouldn’t have helped you in some way?

It’s all in the way that you look at it.

Write. Read. Help. Inspire. Realize. Hope.

There’s more to writing than just words.

deviantART – KCmoonchild’s page

Random Realization

Just a brief little update that I find amusing. It’s more of a realization about myself than anything, but still. It’s amusing nonetheless. 🙂

I think I figured out why I prefer older men. Or at least partially why. It’s the beginning of a theory, it is.

I read too many romance novels where the lead female gets involved with a male who is a decent amount older than her. As in 7+ years older. I find it fascinating that I just realized this.

Because out of my four most serious relationships, three were 7+ years older than me. My fiance is 13 years older than me, in fact.

Environmental influences at its best. Gotta love it.

A Sad Realization

I was in town doing some grocery shopping today with my fiance and children and we passed one of the funeral homes in my town. I told my fiance as we passed it that I wonder who important died and because there was so many people in attendance. Literally. The funeral home itself is very large and has a large parking lot and has a large parking lot. What shocked me about it was that the two stores on either side of it, Walgreens and CVS, and the learning center behind it parking lots were all full, plus there were several cars parked alongside the road. There was a line several people long, fifty or more, to get into the funeral home. I was amazed at the amount of people who had shown up. The last time I had seen a funeral procession that large was when one of my friends died in a car crash in high school several years ago.

After we got home from our two-hour shopping trip and putting away groceries (my fiance volunteered to cook dinner tonight), I got online and did a search on the local newspaper in the obituaries; there were no visitations or funerals scheduled for today in the paper. It took some time, but I eventually remembered the name of the funeral home and searched it on google, finding the web address. I went to the site and went through the “current services” and when I found the service for today I wanted to throw up. I just started crying.

Today’s service was a visitation for a little boy only two and a half years old, six months older than my youngest child.

I cried for several minutes. It could have been five; it could have been ten. All I know is that I sat at the computer screen staring at the little boy, the image of his innocent face staring back with eyes that will never see again.

Thoughts kept running through my head: “It could have been my child” “What if it had been my child?”

And then I felt callous for the way I originally reacted; I thought that it was an important person in the community that had died – someone older, wiser, more known in the area. I felt like a horrible person and more tears flowed.

My realization is this: you don’t have to be old and wise to be well-known and loved in a community. I realize that the majority of the people at the visitation were more than likely there to comfort the child’s parents and family, but it’s not that. The child died. He died before his parents. He was only two years old.

No parent should have to feel the pain of their child dying before them.

As I read the obituary for the little boy, it sounded as if he was well-loved and very smart. He was and had been attending an early learning preschool and was a very active child, both with other children and his parents and family.

Just because a child is young doesn’t mean that he’s not well-known and it most definitely does not mean that he’s not well-loved. In fact, it probably means the very opposite. Children are a community’s backbone; it’s who we become in the future. Every child lost is something to mourn.

I cry for the loss of the child. I cry for everyone, including myself, who didn’t have the chance to know this little life before it was taken from him. I cry for the life that he could’ve lived.

Tonight, when I go to bed, I will light a candle for this little life in honor of his soul’s passing. May he be blessed wherever he may be.