I will not allow my son to have contact with people who have abused me, my family or my friends.
My rule to anyone looking after my son — my father and grandmother are at the top of this list.
This past Tuesday, I just found out, my mother took my son to the assisted-living facility where my grandparents live. In her words “because the old lady’s there have been asking about him.” And guess who walked up, touched his forehead and called my baby “beautiful”? The same woman who, just six weeks ago, demanded to know “who made the decision not to have an abortion?”.
I don’t fucking get it. I’ve been absolutely crystal clear about how I do not want the old bitch near my baby. The same old bitch who abused my mother, and my brother, and me, and even my grandfather. And yet, there’s my mother bringing my baby straight to the abuser.
“With no consequences for her abuse my grandmother takes over once again; April 22, 2010.
She was standing a few feet away from her abuser — from the woman who abused her, her brother, her two sons and even her father — bragging about her abuser’s crab apple jelly and then, not ten minutes later, she grabbed my son, and shoved him into the old evil bitch’s face to make a point about how everyone in the family loved my son… and, what?
“Blood may be thicker than water but you can still drown in it”; September 5, 2010.
Abuse is abuse. I don’t need bruises to prove my father left me disabled for life. I don’t need to see scars from cigarette burns to prove my grandmother nearly destroyed my mother.
People just don’t stop abusing. They don’t wake up one morning and decide what they’ve been doing has been wrong. You can’t stop an abuser by serving them pie but, you know, with a dirty look in your eye.
You can’t stop an abuser by letting them into your home and serving them tea without the biscuit. Eventually they’re going to poke you in the eye with a very sharp stick and you will have no choice but to bleed.
“We celebrate the abusers in our family with smiles and cake”; September 9, 2010.
My mother told me a story not too long ago.
We were in the middle of a yelling argument over my refusal to allow her long-term abusive mother near my baby. My mother and step-father were trying to impress upon me the family philosophy of “get-along to go-along” that, in my opinion, had allowed my grandmother to abuse our family without consequence for 61-years.
Seven months ago my grandmother — who had abused me for a long time as well — sat me down and told me “you should be ashamed of yourself for allowing [my son] to be born” because, she believed, there was a chance he could later have manic depression.
She also told me my son should have been aborted because he was a mistake, just like my mother.
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...salted lithium. 