Breaking the silence

*This post has some pretty serious shit in it. Be prepared, it’s​ probably not something that will make you feel comfortable*

With my little disclaimer out of the way, I should probably also tell you that this is the first post out of several discussing my childhood. It’s not all coming out at once for a few reasons. 

Shall we begin? 

The Unit is loud to start with. Get her angry, and it’s almost to a level that only dogs can hear. She yelled a lot. 

I learned from a young age that yelling was how you made yourself heard in that house. It’s something that has followed me through to adulthood. 

In fact, when I start to get upset my voice audibly changes. It’s like someone flipped a switch in my head and the voice coming out of my mouth is no longer my own, but hers. 

The anger though. That’s the bit that scares me. 

There was one time in particular, I can’t remember exactly what we were arguing about, but in the end, she pushed me down the stairs. 

Not a little half set. 

A full set of stairs. 

Then she threw the vacuum cleaner down after me. You, just for good measure, in case any of my friends watching had any inkling left that she might be a good person. 

Oh wait. Did I mention that 2 of my friends were there and saw this all happen? 

Yeah. 

And still. Despite my friends, and everyone else who knew, nothing was done. 

The system failed us (my sister and I) because they listened to the words of a pathological liar over the words of children. To this day, I’m fairly certain she doesn’t think she did anything wrong. 

In fact, if my last bit of hear-say is correct, she thinks that I’m a bad person for not letting her see my kids. 

And on that note, today’s post is done! There is only so much I can rehash at a time before getting overwhelmed. 

Hug each other, love one another, and be kind! 

~R