Peace At Last Karen Gonzales   © Copyright 2024 by Karen Gonzales

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For those of you that are reading this story, you might feel I'm ripping off Christina Crawford or Gypsy-Rose Blanchard, but I'm not. I too had to survive my own form of emotional, verbal, and sometimes even physical abuse at the hands of a woman that was supposed to give me unconditional love and acceptance.

Especially since I suffered third-degree burns at her hand when I was just 5-weeks old. Oh, I'm sure it was an accident when a coffee pot filled with scalding hot water from a rickety stove, she placed me next to, would fall on top of me and proceed to burn one side of my face, neck, two fingers and my chest. She said she was trying to keep me warm. She wasn't thinking. Her stupidity ruined my looks at the time, only to improve, but not completely, much later in life.

All the years that followed I would subconsciously be waiting for an apology, a weeping, heartfelt apology. None ever came. Instead, she would say frequently over the years that her husband (my father) didn't blame her.

It wasn't about her; I was the one that would be permantly burned. I didn't want to make her feel bad, so I didn't tell her that I blamed her. After all, it was her fault. She needed to take ownership. She blamed my grandfather who was visiting at the time for slamming a door, causing the coffee pot to fall, but she shouldn't have placed me there to begin with. Nothing can change things, so I've learned to live with it. It's like André the Giant, he accepted the way he was and made the best of it. Consequently, the reason I know about him is because one of my favorite books is The Princess Bride and I'm privy to information about him because of the book that one of the stars from the movie wrote entitled As You Wish by Cary Elwes with Joe Layden. I'm not a wrestling fan like my husband.

My parents would take me to Walter Reed Hospital (my father was in the Army) consecutively over the years until I reached 18. When I reached my 30's, they informed me that I had to pay for my own scar surgery (even though I didn't burn myself) at another hospital closer to home. I did.

They also told me to put most of my money that was in my account into my mom's account so I wouldn't get charged as much if they thought I was "in need." I did. It didn't work, I had to pay the full amount.

Mind you, I was working at a low-paying job at the time, unlike my father who got to go to college and have a career thanks to the Army. (He grew up poor). My father got paid very well for his job.

I know this story is just supposed to be about my mother, but they were intertwined, and my father wanted to make sure most of his money would go into taking care of my mother. She made sure of that.

When it was time to get my money back from mom, she hesitated strongly, so much so I had to threaten her. She felt she should keep it.

The same as when I was working, she acted like it didn't count because I didn't give my money to her. Dad always provided for her and did everything for her. She said she worked too. She was a housewife, and I know taking care of a home is work. Dad provided her with an allowance, and he was the one that payed for everything she needed. She would complain constantly about having to do the laundry and cook,etc., but that's what a housewife does. I would tell her over the years that many women had to work an outside job plus keep up with cleaning and various things having to do with their household.

When I was growing up, I realized my mother could be a little strange in the things she said and did. It seemed I noticed it more as a teen and especially as an adult, but what could I do, she was my mother. Society engrains it in your brain to respect your elders and to listen to them. One of the main things that I thought was weird about her is that she would get angry about other people's choices that had no effect on her whatsoever. Also, she wants everyone else to always work, even though she hasn't worked since she was 20. She didn't do much work around her home that's for sure.

Amongst the many things that she would repeat over the years with much fervor is that it was her house (she didn't pay for it, Dad did). I never said it wasn't her house. I never tried to take it over, I just wanted to feel like I lived there. I wasn't supposed to be an employee renting a room, I was supposed to be her daughter. She treated me like I was her servant. I left home as soon as I was able. I never felt like I belonged. That was one of the main reasons I wanted to be able to have my own home. Living with my husband, I'm much happier. I can have peace. He doesn't criticize me, and he leaves the house to go to work, etc.

 I'm not writing this to diss my mother. I just want people to realize there are a lot of traumas that many people must deal with daily. And it's usually from people that everyone thinks has such a fabulous life, just because their parents live in a nice size home and don't want for anything.

I know she didn't have the best childhood, but she got to do things she wanted to do. She left home when she was 18. She got to have a husband when she was 20. She got to travel with my father when he was in the Army. And, most importantly, she didn't have to be a servant to her dad once she got married. She didn't even have to call him on a regular basis (he didn't have a phone) and always be expected to be available in case he needed or wanted something.

She got to live her life, I had to fight with her to have one.

I thought when I finally got married in my 40's, I naively thought our relationship would change for the better. I thought we could be friends. I was still expected to be her servant even though I lived at the time forty miles away, which wasn't too bad, but still...A couple of years after my father passed away, she had a wonderful man come into her life four months before I was to be wed. And making "my escape" was easier for her to handle.

She was very angry and insulting when I announced my engagement, but when Winston came in the picture, she wasn't as bad. In fact, if he hadn't been her companion at the time I have always felt she would have locked me in the basement or my room so I wouldn't be able to go to the church on my wedding day. She didn't want to help in any way with the wedding. In fact, she told me she wasn't coming that day, I said "okay." I wasn't worried about her being there. Throughout the year and a half that I was engaged, she kept trying to talk me out of it, in every form possible. She even came up with the idea for me to continue to live with her and visit my husband when he was at the condo (he worked up on the mountain at the time and would just be home two days out of the week, except for the winter when they would close). I didn't even give that a thought.

When I lived with my parents, and then just my mother, I stayed in my room a lot when I wasn't working. They got on my nerves. I needed some peace. Also, when I was in my mom's sight, I had to do something for her. Always. She was very picky and critical. Both my parents thought I had a mental problem. I don't. I need time to myself occasionally. (I'm a Capricorn). Once Dad retired, they were always home. Most parents do leave the house from time to time.

Speaking of leaving the house, every time I did, I had to face an inquisition. Even teenagers had more freedom than I did. I was a full-grown adult at the time. If I had to run out and roll up both of our car windows if it started to rain, she would urgently say "where are you going? She was worried I was going to escape. I felt like most of the time like she was my warden, especially when she would want me home by 5 p.m. I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't just move out. With what money? I come from a small town. I got dismal wages. I should have just run away when I was young. I regret that I didn't looking back on it.

When I quit my job at a large retail chain, it made my mom angry, she always wanted me to be at work, and not have any time off, i.e. to have fun. I had to give her my schedule so she would always know when I was at work. Since I was now working from home, trying to achieve my dreams, she expected me to be available to cater to her 24/7. No way was I going to let her take over my life anymore. I wouldn't have even told her I quit, but she would ask me every time I had to converse with her, "When do you work again?", "What's your schedule?" By this time Winston had passed away from cancer and she had become a monster yet again.

I now live 111 miles from my old homestead, and it is so fabulous being as far away from her I can get. Of course, she can't bother me anymore since I "dumped" her. I couldn't take it anymore. I only wished I got her out of my life sooner. Better late than never.

But, as forementioned society dictates for you to get along with your parents no matter what. I was trying to hold on and put up with her until she passed. She is now in her mid-eighties and seems to just hold on for dear life. She's not sickly, just old and cantankerous.

Toward the end, she was especially getting under my skin. She would always "poke" and "jab" anyway. But she was speaking in innuendos about basically demoting or taking me completely out of the will. Stating that I never did anything for her.

I took her out for dinner on special occasions, travelled a long distance to visit her, and every time I had to call and converse with her, I would have to ask, "Do you want me to look that up?" Do you want me to buy that for you?" Do you want me to come there and do that for you?" She would just give a little laugh most of the time and in her prissy voice say; "No, that's okay." I'm sure she was thinking: "You Idiot, you're not getting anything, but I'm going to still treat you like my servant, because I'm better than you."

When I realized this (I didn't want to think my own mother could be a "snake in the grass." I then proceeded to "dump" her. I've never been happier. It always felt like she was holding my head under water trying to drown me. I had to get away from her for my own sanity and be able to take my life back. After all, it is my life.

She had taken my older sister out of the will about twelve years previously, I told her this even though my mom told me not to, I felt my sister should know, so when my mom died, she wouldn't be in for a shock. Of course, I didn't tell mom I told her. She always used to say she didn't do anything for her either. She didn't like it when my sister and brother got married either. My sister has been married twice and my brother three times. My brother is my third sibling. He was always her favorite and he's also the executor of the will (Dad's will, actually), so I'm assuming he's still in it. She has also complained about him as well over the years. No one or nothing can please her. She's constantly in need of something or some service. She's very self-entitled. Dad had the plan that she would get everything when he passed, and then when she passed it would be divided amongst us kids. My brother can either put up with her, or he can "dump" her as well. It's his choice. And I know for a fact he likes to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, which will annoy her.

As much as I'm still angry with my mother, it's always sad when someone eventually passes away being bitter and lonely. But she did it to herself.

Dad and Mom would fight quite often, until he eventually passed. He could also be a pain sometimes, so I can see why she resented him, but her boyfriend that would come along a few years later would treat her very well, and even he couldn't please her. She would from time to time say that she wanted to "drop" him. I think she thought, at her age, some other guy was going to come along and would want to bow down to her, so to speak. She might have gotten tons of dates when she was younger, according to her, but those days are long gone. She does live in the past.

I once asked my sister when we were discussing her being disowned, "Do you miss her, or do you miss the idea of her?" Her reply: "I don't know, I've never thought about it that way."

Well, I've thought about it, and I for one won't miss her in any way, shape or form. Good Riddance.

We can't pick who gives birth to us, you just make the best of it. But when it gets too much. When you've hit your breaking point, it's better to "save" yourself. Because no one else will. Everyone else has their own life to contend with.

We only have one life to live. It's better not to waste a precious second of it, if possible.

I know we can't be happy all the time, but I feel we should be happy some of the time, especially in a place that should be our "safe haven."

All I've ever wanted was my freedom and most importantly peace.