Mardi, 26 Février 2013: PART III: The Dinner From Hell

CAUTION: IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED OR IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO SUBJECTS INVOLVING ABUSE, PLEASE DON'T READ FURTHER.

We were sitting at the grandparents' house drinking whiskey when Joelle, Andréa's mom invited me to dinner at her apartment. I had told my host mom Céline that I would be back soon but couldn't turn down fondue or an invitation from my boyfriend's mom. As soon as we got back to the apartment, Albert, Andréa's step-dad was already pouring apertifs. Everyone reminded him that I had to drive so he said he'd stop offering me drinks afterward. That did not happen.

When we sat down for dinner, Albert was continuously filling my wine glass even when I told him I couldn't take anymore. I was pretty drunk and tried to compensate by eating a bit more. At one point, I was on the phone with Joelle's sister--Andréa's aunt that I had never met. THAT's how inebriated I was. Out of nowhere, Joelle and Albert started talking about career paths I could take if I chose to stay in France. This conversation transformed into what job I had in the states, which changed abruptly to what each person in my family did for a living. This is when I started to get uncomfortable because I'm on the outs with my mom and sister. When they got to my sister, they asked about her pregnancy and how she was raised differently. Obviously, Andréa's already told them a lot more than I wish he had. At one point Joelle asked if there was any news from my family and I said 'no.' That's when even more questions started coming out. I explained that I stopped speaking to my mother. "Why?" So I explained that she hurt me. "How?" I tried to tell as much as I could without going into detail because this is honestly a long, deep, private history. One that I was determined to forget. They wouldn't stop with the Why's or How's though so I kept on telling them a little bit more. I looked to Andréa to help me because I felt panicked but he just sat there with his hands in front of his face, not looking at me, not saying anything. The most important thing here is that he didn't stop them. He knows that I can't lie and that I would keep answering their questions. His mom kept on saying that I was guarded and that I needed to talk about it. Seriously woman? I haven't even had a chance to tell Andréa much of it yet. We've been together for two months and I've known you for two weeks. It's not something you just bring up out of the blue. And it's not something that anyone, including Andréa's family has a right to know. Honestly. I know that I'm a bit mysterious in my ways but a little mystery never hurt anyone. 

The questions continued and I was starting to get emotional. I really had to think back to all of the ways my mom had wronged me, why I couldn't speak to her anymore. Albert kept on saying 'You have to forgive her. She's your mother.' I kept on saying 'I can't' even though I really have. He quickly retorted with 'Why not?' So I thought about it. all I said was 'She was abusive.' Which he replied with 'How?' I can't explain to a stranger that my mom left me with child molesters because they were free babysitters, or the fact that she didn't believe me until they did it to someone else. I couldn't explain that my mom beat the shit out of me for 16 years right up until I left for college. I couldn't explain that I have fast reflexes because I had to learn to dodge my mom's thundering blows that left me black and blue. I couldn't explain that the only reason why I'm such a quick healer is because my body's had a lot of practice. How do you tell someone you barely know all of that? When they asked me why I decided to finally stop talking to my mom, I couldn't tell them that she filed a police report against me last summer for forgery on my student loans. They would never believe me because moms don't do that...

He kept on saying 'Forgive her. You have to.' But I already have! I've forgiven her but I can't let her back into my life. Each year was worse than the last. If I allow her to exist in my life, she will continue abusing me. That's all she knows. The questions kept reverberating in my ear and I started to recall everything. I remembered that everytime she tried to hit my brother, I'd always push him out of the way. She would lash out on me for getting in the way but better me than him. I'm his big sister. I would remember every cut and every bruise if there weren't so many...Looking on my body now, the only things that are left are the scars left by my mom. There's the one where she hit me with a hot curling iron when I was 4. Then there are the scars on my torso from when her freshly made soup accidentally fell on me. She beat me as my skin was melting off. When my dad tried to put me under a cold shower she was still trying to hit me. Those are just two of the horrifying events from my CHILDhood. When I started catching her punches in high school she resorted to emotional abuse. She would always tell me that if she knew I would grow up to be so bad that she 'would shove [me] back up her pussy.' And yes. That's a direct vietnamese to english translation. My sister is 17, basically failed high school, has had one job that she was fired from, and is getting ready to have a baby. She's been smacked once in her life. I got my first job at 13, graduated with an advanced studies diploma with honors, and I'm the bad kid. Yes, I drank--because I thought it would mask the pain. But that's a normal thing for a kid to get in trouble for. 

The questions didn't stop even as Andréa and I were heading out the door. I was spent. I was done talking about my relationship with my mother. I had all these emotions whirling around that I had not experienced in a long time. Andréa noticed that I didn't say much in the car so he asked me to stay the night. When I asked 'Why?' He said 'Because you're sad.' That's when I broke out into tears. I tried to control it but it just kept on coming. I refused to stay and subsequently got in my car and left. I just wanted to be alone. I had had enough company for one night. 

Yes, I've forgiven my mom but there's still so much pain attached with her memory. Don't get me wrong. She was a good mom. She gave me everything I ever needed or wanted but she was abusive. That's all it is. I would blame her 12 hour workday on her abusive tendencies but really, that was a crap excuse that I made up for her. I hope to work as hard as she does someday, but I also hope to God that I can control my stress for the sake of my children. There were so many of my friends that witnessed her abuse while I was growing up. These are the only people who understand how much terror I came home to each day. It doesn't matter whether I did something 'wrong' or not, she would hit me. And I would let her because I didn't know how to defend myself. I told myself after every occurrence that I would fight back the next time. When I finally started to catch her punches, she told me I was bad for not obeying her. I remember calling for help a few times but hanging up when she'd show up and say that if I told anyone that they'd take me away and put me in a foster home like her friends' kids. When you're a kid, your parents are God. It doesn't matter how bad they treat you, you're afraid to lose them. I remember I was called to Mrs. Gamble's office in Kindergarten. She was the guidance counselor. All I remember is that she gave me some paper, some markers, and told me to draw. When I was finished with my pretty picture, she asked me how I got the bruise on my arm. I remember this day so clearly. I thought about it for awhile. My mom had prepared me for this day because she always told me that if anyone asks about my bruises that I had to lie or I would grow up without a mom. I told Mrs. Gamble that "my brother hit me with a stick." I knew that she didn't believe me but she let me go anyhow. When I got home from school that day, I told my mom what happened, she smiled, and said that I was a good daughter. Albert, you seriously want me to forgive this woman? C'est un truc de malade, ça! You've got to be fucking kidding me. I'm 26 years old. I know better. What's more, I went through this. Not you. It really had nothing to do with my culture. This woman is sick. And I can't go back to that. Sure, she stopped hitting me awhile ago but she's still trying to mentally abuse me. She tried to tell all of my student loan companies that I forged her signature for God's sake. She wanted to show me 'who's the boss' after I bitched her out for letting my sister's boyfriend stay over every night. My sister's pregnant now. Why am I the one being punished? Oh yeah, because I'm acting like the mom and not the daughter.

There are so many pieces of the past and recent past coming back now that I can't contain them. I'm so utterly sad that all of the memories with my mom are so dark. I don't know what I'm feeling other than depressed. Depressed that I went through that, that I didn't stop it. I'm upset that Joelle and Albert took advantage of me being drunk. I'm upset that Andréa didn't stop them from prying. And I'm really fucking offended that the two of them think that my mom who made my life a miserable Hell merits a pardon. I was so upset when I got home that I went straight to my host parents' bedroom. I spent a good amount of time in tears explaining to them what happened. These people, my host parents, are the most wonderful, loving people ever. They never interrogated me about my family problems. They never even asked. They waited. I told them everything when I knew I could trust them and they continue to uphold that worthiness. 

I just don't know what to do with myself now. All of these memories...All of these feelings...All of their questions re-playing in my head. How can I make myself forget again? I thought I was healed. Maybe not. These people have made me feel bad for cutting my mom out of my life and now I'm wondering why I even care. But maybe it's because I'm on the fence still. I have no clue...I'm sure of one thing right now, I just want to be by myself, and that means no Andréa either. There's no way he can console me now...