My memories of this time are scattered. Pieces of a puzzle that fall together as I write.
My father is an engineer. As soon as he booted out my psychologically distressed mother. He worked over time. The funny thing is that during this time I felt the most security and peace since my mother left. When thinking upon this time I feel…….residual happiness. But, I was happy and alone.
Being woken up in the early mornings of winter as my father got me ready for the babysitters. I remember the power, strength and security I felt as he carried me half asleep on those cold vulnerable mornings. I loved being in the movement of his arms as he carried me to the car. Warm and safe.
I was shuffled from family to family. My mom was given permission to have me again. Sometimes. When that happened I felt the battle again. I hated being torn between my father and mother. Having to choose sides. I was the favorite child because I was submissive. My mother used me to lie to people. What choice did I have. Everything my mother did was “right”. She raised me against my father. I was the child and she was the mother. I felt so bad, thinking back on it now, i can feel the sting of betrayal and pain as he watched his little girl speak bad against him and tell people what an awful man he was. To watch me be mommies mindless robot. The parakeet that sat on her shoulder.
To be continued.