Monday, February 9, 2009

About My Mother.... (Part 2 of 6)


I remember when I was about 12 years old, I prayed to God to spare my brothers from this hell, to make them happy, and that I would take all the yelling and emotional abuse that my mother was causing. I did not want them to go through that pain.

I could never count on her for anything, I could never tell her a secret because she would yell at me. I could not ask for advice because she will tell me that it was a stupid possibility and why in the world am I thinking that way. She judged me, she yelled, she was angry and would tell all her friends that there is something wrong with me.


I was counting the months for me to be 18yrs old and to leave and never comeback. I was so na├»ve,I can never get away from her, I can never be far enough from her. Not even after death. After all, she is my mother……

I was never able to open up about my feelings with my friends and I have never talked about this with anyone else. I guess it’s much easier through this medium because no one knows who I am.Except for my best friend that occasionally reads my blog. I guess I am ready to talk about this now.


Mi mama, mi mama, mi mama, was fucking driving me crazy. I wanted to fucken snap and drive, drive away and never ever comeback. I lived with her for awhile, until she started complaining. Why was I still living at home? I thought are you fucking kidding me? First you ask me to live with you and now that you don’t need me anymore you fucken toss me away? I was mouthy as hell. I would say shit that made her feel stupid in front of other people. I was cynical; I had a sarcastic way of saying things, trying to be diplomatic but straight to the Jugular. I could not swear in front of her, because fucken good girls don’t do that…. So sick of that shit.

An opportunity came up to come to Canada. Well, it was more like a guy. I met him online, we talked for about 8 to 9 months on the phone, webcam, we exchanged pictures, phone sex, etc...

I knew he would be trouble, I just had a feeling… I guess I made myself believe that I loved him... I was exited about talking to him. He was soooo good looking, with beautiful eyes and lips. He was very manly, I was infatuated. We were very different. I was a good Christian girl, he was Muslim, I did not drink nor smoke, he 420 all the way. We had nothing in common. Maybe the only thing in common was that we were both confused and were looking for something different. Maybe we were looking for love.



8 comments:

Tennessee Walker said...

Very interesting.
Is this autobiographical?

Ajonc said...

Hi! I like your text very much, I find it moving and full of pulse, I like even if it's not my "mother tongue" (perhaps this expression is not very appropriate, considering your topic...) : I'm french indeed, so please be lenient with my english!
Be that as it may, I can't wait to read the others parts!

Shania said...

I just want to thank everyone for taking the time to leave a message, be sure that your effort is greatly appreciated.And yes, it is autobiographical.
Ajonc: Mother tongue it is an appropriate expression.
Once again, thank you all.

Shania said...

Ajonc: LOL I was reading too fast and did not get what you said, I do now LOL so funny.

chula said...

i like ur blog...
feel free to follow my blog if u like nd i will do the same

Ajonc said...

Hi Shania! So U find me back... Thank u for giving me back a visit! Really, I do like your blog, and I 'm not accustomed to write comment for anybody!
I try to translate my topics most often (except for the extracts from my "in-progress-novel") because I think that web is interresting to get out from one's daily world and meet other people (and because I enjoy translating : I just translated a poem I like, I took great fun!) ; so have english visitors is very nice! And I'm still waiting for the continuation of your text!
Have a nice day!

Shania said...

Merci pour votre comments.

William H. Balzac said...

Hello, Shania:

Your courage & journey, it seems, has only begun.
This blog is proof that writing can be a cathartic experience.

All the best to you.

`x~William.

PS: You are now one of my "favorites"

 

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