Eleanore Vs. Maternal Chains

TW: Pregnancy, abuse, parental abuse

Dearest readers,

I am sometimes an unhealthily introspective person; I tend to obsess over thoughts that just get stuck in the subspace of my mind. Especially after the several big events that have happened recently, I’m now analyzing everything inside and outside of what it means to be Eleanore. Sometimes this brings me negative realizations and sometimes it brings positive ones, but usually each realization is a mix of both.

Today I was home alone and I was told to not to come into work. I got little tasks done around my home and played my bass a bit, but the whole time I was in deep thought about my current predicament of being mostly defeated, broke, and unsure of what’s to come. It was all quite overwhelming and saddening, and then I was bitch slapped by a memory that changed everything, at least for the moment.

My mother had an odd habit of suddenly breaking out in exceptionally out of place comments which were often cruel and hurtful. When I first became “official” with my first love, I was just about to walk out the door to go to school one morning when she felt it pertinent to blurt out, “you know if you were to get pregnant right now, you’d almost definitely miscarry, right?” I was crushed for the rest of the day, sobbing to my sister on the phone on the way to my first class. These interactions also bashed the wind right out of me, but never stopped coming.

Back home, in a strange land called California, there was a store called “The Starving Musician.” My mother and I used to pass it while we ran errands around the city. We were sitting quietly in the car when out of nowhere she told me, “you know, you can’t do that whole ‘starving musician’ thing. You’re too sick. You’d never make it.” This was only a few months after I started to my play bass guitar. I’m not sure what she intended for this comment to do to me, but I mostly found it jarring and insulting. I was only 13 at the time, and I couldn’t understand precisely why, but I felt the cut of her words deeply.

As I got older I realized that she was a very strange abuser in the sense that she would constantly complain about what a burden I was and would make me feel as unwanted as possible, while also working hard to make me believe I couldn’t possibly survive without her. She taught my sister and I that the world was a scary, dark, and dangerous place, that no one was to be trusted, that we were burdensome and worthless, and that without relying on her or being just like her, we would never get anywhere. As I have grown and have ventured outside the black veil my mother kept me hidden under, I realized just how very wrong she was.

There were so many times in my life when my mother would have violent fits and would tear me down any way she could because I made a decision without her consent. Even after I was able to drive myself, she was furious any time I even went to the hospital without her for regular appointments. She had the same reactions to me house sitting, going to see my friends, and pretty much anything else I would take part in. I was hopeful that this attitude would stop when I had moved away to Missouri; unfortunately she only became more verbally abusive and controlling.

For the last five months I have had no health insurance because I turned 26 in July and was therefore removed from my mother’s insurance. Soon after, she called me, explaining that because I was chronically ill, her work wanted to help me get extended coverage. I thought about it for a few days, and while the prospect of health insurance was wonderful, the thought of still giving her something to use as a chain around my throat sickened me. Every time she threatened to take my health insurance away for one reason or another haunted my mind. It was a difficult decision, but I ended up deciding that I would rather have no health insurance and finally break the chain that kept me under the clutches of my mother than have proper medical care while being chronically ill. When I am looking at my medical bills or am in a hospital bed I often relive the deciding moment; yet every time, I arrive at the conclusion that between two dreadful options, I chose the less harmful.

Currently my life is a mess, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t completely terrified. However, I am often relieved that while I have to face that terror a hundred times every day, I don’t have to deal with it being layered with threats, abuse, hatefulness and unrealistic fear. As I’ve grown from child, to teenager, to a fully adulty adult woman, I’ve realized that most of the lessons I was taught as a child were horribly wrong and that they were actually not lessons at all. They were only chains used to keep me tied tightly to my abuser.

My life may be overwhelming, I may be chronically ill and have very little. Yet after 26 years I have finally started ripping apart the chains that my mother worked so tirelessly to keep me down with. I have discovered so much in my life, I have met so many beautiful people, and have been braver than I ever thought I could be in spite of every toxic seed she planted in my mind. While I often feel I haven’t got much to be proud of, I certainly have that.

I do not know what is next for me, but whatever it is, I promise to myself that I will be brave and adventurous. I will also mostly likely be anxious and scared, but  I promise that my fear will not stifle me. After 26 years of being raised in a world full of doubting and darkness, I am slowly but surely discovering what I’m really capable of.  I can’t do everything I’d like to, but I can still do spectacular and wonderful things.

I can live, I can thrive, I can create. I can break the chains placed around me at my birth. I have already started to.

I can, I can, I can.

It was a strange place and a tender age; I was just a babe in school,
Saw them roll their eyes at me every time that I thought that I was cool.
Well God knows I was no chosen one that just wasn’t my prime,
Yeah it’s just matter of time, honey, it’s just a matter of time.

~Work This Body – Walk the Moon (I’ve probably used this song before but it’s just SO good!)

A horse of a different color:  I am really struggling to survive right now. So, I am selling most of my things. Please consider purchasing (and convincing others) to help me pay for rent, gas, and my medical bills that are currently adding up to the height of Mt. Doom itself.

Click here to see jewelry.

Click here to see books.

Thank you for reading, from the bottom of my heart. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s