Category Archives: A Mother’s Job

May8

Mothers, Sisters, Daughters, and Forgiveness

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Whenever someone talks about dying and going to Heaven, the first thing they mention is that they’ll get to see loved ones who’ve gone on before them. That idea always makes me feel kind of funny because, and I’m a little ashamed to say it, I don’t really want to see my relatives who’ve gone ahead of me. My mother, my sister and my stepdad are the ones who are there now, that I know of, and my relationship with them was so incredibly complicated and painful that I don’t know what I’d say to them once I met them in Heaven.

During the days before my stepdad died I wrote a poem, called Dutiful Daughter’s Escape:

The phone is ringing, “Daddy’s dying!”
Distraught and woeful, Mother’s crying.
If I marched homeward I’d be lying,
Their silent wall accusing.

To them I say, “No debt to pay
Have I to you, to pain allay;
To meet your need myself would slay” ~
Small suicide unnoticed.

But then I ask myself…

Is Mother’s need of greater worth,
O’erwhelming pain of daughter’s dearth?
Then truth unearth’d ~ a child by birth
Doth not a mother make.

So Daddy’s dying, Mother’s crying.
With fearful trembling I am trying
The cords to cut of love undying ~
Spid’ry coils ensnaring,

And head-long running, I’m escaping
Family traps that minds be raping
Though scraped with bait as I’m reshaping
What I know of love.

S.A. Kuriakos & Wordsworth*
©December 31, 1991

*Wordsworth was one of my alters who was involved in helping me write poetry when I was multiple.

This was written the day before my stepdad died in January of 1992. And I did go to see him in the hospital a couple of days before he died. He was in a coma and he was in ICU, so I went late at night when I knew no one else would be there. I didn’t want to run into my mother or my sister. I just wanted to be able to see my dad without the added burden of having to talk to anyone else. My dad had multiple sclerosis, and he’d gone into respiratory arrest a couple of days previously, and the doctor said that he wouldn’t pull out of it, that this time he would die. It was just a matter of when.

I wanted to see him so I could tell him that I loved him, and that he didn’t have to worry about Mom, because my sister and I would make sure she was okay. I wanted to tell him that he was free to leave and go home to Heaven without any worries. I went twice and told him the same things both times. I knew he could hear me even though he was in a coma. And after he was gone I found out that the day after my second visit he came out of the coma and told my mother I’d been there, and he told her what I had said to him. And he died the day after that, on January 1, 1992.

Everytime I read that poem I feel like I was being selfish. I mean, my dad’s death was imminent, and what was I thinking about? I was thinking about my needs rather than my mother’s needs when she was about to lose her husband.

In the year before my dad’s death, I had separated myself from my family for a period of time, because memories had begun to surface of my biological father’s abuse, and especially the sexual abuse, and they were really bad, and my mother wasn’t accepting any of it.

The thing is, I had put my parents needs ahead of my own my whole entire life, and in the process I had been trampled on, raped (quite literally, as well as figuratively), and disregarded from the very beginning. My sister was always the fair-haired child and I was always the family scapegoat, and there had to come a time when I stood up for myself. I don’t think there would have been a good time for that to happen. Regardless of when I did that it would have been bad, so when I separated myself I did it because I had to for my own self-preservation. At the time I had no idea my stepdad would die in another year. And when he died I came back because I knew my mother would need the help, plus I’d made enough progress in dealing with my own stuff that I could handle whatever my family threw at me.

The first time I told my mom about what I was remembering, her response was, “Well, I thought something was going on because I saw bruises. If I’d known it was sexual abuse the divorce would have happened a lot sooner.” That made me really angry because children die from being physically abused all the time, and she did nothing to stop it, and instead used the idea that she didn’t know the abuse was sexual as her excuse for not protecting me. After all, physical abuse is perfectly terrible all by itself! It should have been enough to make her JUMP to protect me! But no, apparently not. I forgive her! I forgive her!!

I separated myself because I had to be able process my feelings, regardless of how negative they were, without having to deal with my mother’s denials and attempts to subvert or block my feelings and memories. Also, I didn’t want to cause any more pain in my family than was already there in my efforts to talk about the issues that were surfacing, and I knew that confronting my mother and my sister would inevitably create more pain ~ LOTS of pain. My sister hadn’t had any memories of abuse, though I was pretty sure she’d been hurt in some way, I just didn’t know exactly how. She had to be allowed to remember on her own in God’s timing without any help from me.

In addition it came out that I’d had to become multiple in order to survive, which was an added complication, and I didn’t want to have to explain that to my mother as well. However, as it turned out, there was a soap opera being aired at that time that had a character who was multiple, and my mother liked watching it. When I finally did reveal the multiplicity to her, she’d already become somewhat familiar with that character’s issues, so it wasn’t nearly as big of a problem because the soap opera had normalized it for me.

God is SOOO GOOD!!!

To be clear, as I stated above, I’ve forgiven my mother for not protecting me from my biological father’s atrocities. So why am I still having a hard time with the idea of seeing my mother and sister when I get to Heaven? I think it’s because, even though I’ve forgiven them, there are still many unresolved aspects of our relationship, and I don’t know how to go about sorting out all the problems so I can come to a resolution and let it all go.

In thinking about it, however, it came to me that in Heaven we won’t be like we are here on earth. When we get to Heaven we’ll be changed and transformed, because God will have finished His work in us,

And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns. Philippians 1:6, NLT.

God is working now while we’re here on earth, and He’ll continue the process of sanctification in us until it’s complete on the day when Jesus Christ returns.

Oh what a day that will be! I’ll no longer have to struggle and fight within myself (and with myself!), and I won’t have a hard time relating to my sister, something that was a huge struggle throughout my entire life with her. And I’m hoping that all the memories of my horrific childhood will be washed away, and I’ll be free of them, so I can relate to my family in a whole new way. It’s hard to imagine what that will be like, but it has to be better than the way it’s been here on earth.

Forgiveness is a vital part of the Christian life. Jesus forgave us for our sins by going to the Cross, so I can do no less by forgiving my parents for what they did to me. It seems a small price to pay. And in the process God will heal me and wipe away all my tears, and I’ll feel no more pain or sorrow. That sounds like Heaven to me!

He is so rich in kindness and grace that He purchased our freedom with the blood of His Son and forgave our sins. ~ Ephesians 1:7, NLT.

“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” ~ Revelation 21:4, NKJV.

I SOOO look forward to THAT!!

Jul31

The Pain That Cannot Forget

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“He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.” ~ Aeschylus.

I love that quote from Aeschylus. It says so perfectly what my life is about, though hopefully, as God continues to heal me, my life will be less about the pain and more about being healed.

I’ve become aware that a lot of my behavior has been motivated by a desire to rebel against my mother, because she didn’t protect me from Harry’s atrocities, and I’m doing it even as an adult, which, of course, is long after the abuse ended. All this time I thought it was simply driven by pain, but it turns out it’s much more complex than that. I think pain is at the root of it, but there’s a lot of rebellion there too.

Rebellion is something that God hates, so I don’t want any part of it. The Bible likens it to witchcraft,

“Rebellion is as sinful as witchcraft, and stubbornness as bad as worshiping idols. So because you have rejected the command of the LORD, He has rejected you as king.” ~ 1 Samuel 15:23, NLT.

To be honest, I also think there’s a part of me that is just plain lazy. I dislike change, so rather than grow, I’m choosing to remain in the muck and mire of the mess I’m currently wallowing in, though it could be more inertia and less laziness.

I think I’m going to publish this as is, even though it’s unfinished, partly because I’m unfinished. But I’m grateful that I won’t stay unfinished, because…

And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns. ~ Philippians 1:6, NLT.

…because I know that God will continue healing me until I’m completely healed when Jesus comes back and takes me Home to be with Him. I can hardly wait for that day!!

Jul19

I Need to Fire the Judge.

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Every once In a while, I mess up really, really bad, and last Saturday (July 11) was one of those times. And when I do I’m incredibly grateful for God’s mercy, and for King David’s ability to encapsulate my feelings in the Psalms. Psalm 51 is a particularly good example,

Have mercy on me, O God, because of your unfailing love. Because of your great compassion, blot out the stain of my sins. Wash me clean from my guilt. Purify me from my sin. For I recognize my rebellion; it haunts me day and night. Against you, and you alone, have I sinned; I have done what is evil in your sight. You will be proved right in what you say, and your judgment against me is just. ~ Psalm 51:1-4, NLT.

King David wrote Psalm 51 after he was confronted by Nathan the prophet concerning his sin with Bathsheba and his conspiracy to have her husband murdered on the field of battle (see 2 Samuel, Chapters Eleven and Twelve).

And then I asked God to forgive me, because I so desperately needed His forgiveness.

So what actually happened? What did I do that made me feel such guilt and shame? As it turns out I was playing a new game on my iPad, and while the game itself was relatively harmless, at various points during the game it would offer timed challenges where you could earn extra coins if you could complete a level within a certain amount of time, for example, twenty seconds.

Now, I’ve never done very well with arcade-style games, or timed games of any kind, and I don’t play them as a general rule. They put way too much stress on me and have always been sure-fire triggers for panic attacks and self-abuse. When I downloaded this game there was no indication that it was an arcade game, or that there were any timing issues at all, so I thought I was safe.

Then I started playing it and discovered differently, but the timing challenges didn’t happen very often, and they were doable within the allotted time, so I didn’t worry about them.

Until…

Until I reached the upper levels. Once there I ran into a timed challenge that I could not beat no matter what I tried, at which point I absolutely fell apart. It drove me into a panic attack, and I started hitting myself ~ something I haven’t done in many months. In fact, it’s been almost exactly one year, because I wrote a post about God healing me of the self-abuse on July 16, 2019 (Go To Forgiveness, Go Right To Forgiveness. Don’t Pass Through Guilt, Don’t Go To Condemnation.), and interestingly enough He healed me of it in the context of playing a computer game.

So I had a panic attack and started hitting myself. Looking back, I feel a lot of shame about that, because I feel like I should have known better. I should have known better!! The problem is, when I get into situations like that, I can’t see the panic attack and subsequent self-abuse coming. I’m just blithely playing along, trying to complete the time challenge ~ and failing.

I guess that should have been my clue, that I kept failing at it, because I hadn’t failed at any of the other challenges, and I failed at this one every single time I tried. I should have stopped after two or three successive failed attempts, but somehow I just couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see that necessity, so I kept on trying until it was too late and I had reached the point of no return. It was at that point that my face was sweating and I was calling myself bad names, and after that was when I started hitting myself.

Once the self-abuse started, I kind woke up and realized what was happening, and all the rage at myself drained out of me. But I still couldn’t forgive myself. Not yet. Because, like I said earlier, I should have known. I should have KNOWN!!

I’ve always had the hardest time forgiving myself. I can forgive anyone, ANYONE, but not myself. Well, and my sister…

But even she’s easier to forgive than I am. But I’ve come to realize that in making that determination about myself, I’m really saying that I know more about me than God does ~ and that’s simply not true. And I’ve already come to understand that I would make a rotten God (or god; I Would Make a Terrible God).

McT and I talked about this situation during my phone-appointment last Tuesday, and we decided that what’s really going on is that I have a mean internal judge ~ probably all three parents internalized ~ both biological parents and my stepdad ~ who won’t let me accept that I’m human and therefore imperfect, and liable to make mistakes. When I was a kid being abused in the cult, if I made a mistake someone died, and it’s quite difficult to break that connection in my mind.

So McT and I decided that I need to fire the judge. What I really need to do is ask God to break the connection in my mind between the mistakes I was forced to make in the cult and the people who died as a result of those mistakes ~ because the mistakes were unavoidable. I had no control over them. They were forced on me by the people conducting the rituals.

My parents fostered that perfectionism at home as well. I can remember times when I would spill a glass of milk at the dinner table, and my mother would accuse me of doing it on purpose if I didn’t act abjectly remorseful.

Then there was the time after I left college when I decided to enroll in a local secretarial school. I completed the program there with the highest score anyone had ever gotten at that school ~ 99.2% overall ~ and when I told my stepdad about it, all he could say was, “Why didn’t you get 100%?” I was crushed after he said that. I felt like I couldn’t do anything right, like no matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough.

Now, I certainly don’t want to dwell on the past, but these particular events were times that, in essence, branded me. They left scars that only God can heal ~ and I believe He will do just that, just as He’s healed me of all the other things people have done to me. I believe He can and will break the connections between what happened to me in the cult and the consequences of those things, so I’m no longer trapped into doing things I don’t want to do ~ like hitting myself, because God didn’t want me to be abused in a satanic cult in the first place!

You are not to sacrifice any of your children in the fire to Molech. Do not profane the name of your God; I am the LORD. ~ Leviticus 18:21, CSB.

“The people of Judah have sinned before my very eyes,” says the LORD. “They have set up their abominable idols right in the Temple that bears my name, defiling it. They have built pagan shrines at Topheth, the garbage dump in the valley of Ben-Hinnom, and there they burn their sons and daughters in the fire. I have never commanded such a horrible deed; it never even crossed my mind to command such a thing!” ~ Jeremiah 7:30-31, NLT.

It’s comforting to me to know that God didn’t want me to be abused in the cult, that it never crossed His mind! Knowing that has really helped me in my healing process, especially with regard to some of the lies Harry told me ~ for example, that he had to abuse me because God hated me. It’s so easy to forgive him for telling me that, because I know he was seriously deceived himself when he said it.

I thank God for His healing power in my life, and for His goodness to me!!

Sep17

Adulting Is a Four Letter Word

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I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to grow up. While I’m sixty-six years old chronologically, I’ve never felt older than sixteen, which is how old I, Sarah, was when I was created at the time of the gang-rape when Catherine Belinda was three years old.

That was when Harry got four of his cronies together, and the five of them decided that they were going to take Catherine Belinda to a house owned by one of them, and together the five of them would take turns raping her.

An innocent three year old tiny little girl!!

Harry!! How could you have done this!! What were you thinking!!

I weep for that innocent little girl that was me! I wish I could take her into my arms and do for her what was never done for me! I want to protect her as no one ever protected me!

How could they have done it God!! How could they have committed such an atrocity against an innocent child!!

Logically I know the answer to that question, but given the damage that one event has caused in my life, it’s hard to think about it logically, and everytime I read those cries above I start weeping for the little girl that was me all over again.

Before that event when we were three, we were already multiple, and Catherine Belinda, the original core personality, was doing her best to run things in the midst trying to protect herself from the hell of Harry’s constant abuse.

I, Sarah, didn’t exist at that point.

But during the gang-rape Catherine Belinda decided she was fed up with Harry’s lies and betrayals. She decided that this event was the ultimate betrayal on his part, and she decided that she was done.

She was DONE!!

She had to tell someone. She didn’t know who yet, but she’d find someone. She had to find a way to escape. She couldn’t stand it any longer. And everyone else inside could feel the certainty of her purpose, and they knew she was resolved to make good on this decision.

But they also knew that Harry was serious in his threats. He’d been threatening for at least a year at that point that he would kill her if she ever told anyone what he was doing to her, and he showed her that he was serious by playing Russian Roulette with one of his revolvers between her legs. And he didn’t just do it once. He did it on a regular basis to make sure everyone believed him.

I can only imagine the terror everyone must have felt everytime he pointed that gun at them!

So everyone inside made an executive decision that Catherine Belinda couldn’t be allowed to make good on her promise to find someone to tell about Harry’s abuse, and specifically, the gang-rape that had just occurred. They all concluded that she had to be removed from the scene, and someone else had to be created to take over for her, so she was hidden away and put to sleep, and I was created.

God is the one who gave me the gift of multiplicity, and I’m so grateful for it, because that’s what helped me to survive throughout my childhood. God is also the one who created each new alter everytime there was a need for one, as there was on that day when Catherine Belinda rebelled and had to be taken out of the system. I fully understand why she did it, but she had to be stopped, or Harry would have killed us. He’d made that abundantly clear.

So God created me, Sarah Abigail Kuriakos, to take over for Catherine Belinda, and He named me Sarah Abigail Kuriakos. He chose those names because He wanted me to know that someone loved me, and specifically, how much He loved me.

He also had to create twelve or thirteen other new alters because trauma of the rapes was so great, but that is a story for another day.

When He created me, chronologically we were three years old, but I was sixteen. Don’t ask me to explain how that works, because I can’t. All I know is that I was sixteen in a three year old body. I think it had something to do with being able to handle more responsibility than any three year old could possibly manage.

There are certain things one expects of an adult, and in my case, a Christian adult. Things like reading my Bible on a regular basis, going to church every Sunday, controlling my temper, not being rude to other people, getting and keeping a job and supporting myself financially, keeping my home neat and clean, and taking proper care of my cat. These are examples of activities normal adults engage in as a part of daily life.

Actually, I’m pretty much making all that up, because I have no idea what normal adults do in their daily lives. For one thing I doubt if there’s any such thing as a “normal” adult in today’s society, and for another, since I’ve never been an adult, I have no idea what they do. The things I mentioned are things I’d like to be doing in my daily life were I living even a semblance of a normal life.

Now that I’ve figured out this thing, what do I do about it? First off, I need discipline. All the things I want to be doing require a certain amount of discipline, and discipline is what I lack most of all. A few of the things I mentioned above I manage to do quite well, for instance, not being rude to others.

Everything else? Not so much. So, as I started out saying at the beginning of this post, I need to grow up. I also need to figure out how to discipline myself, so that I’m doing what I want to be doing on a daily basis.

HELP ME, LORD!!

Jul29

Seventy Times Seven

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I’m writing mostly about forgiveness today, and the Scripture passage on which I’m basing what I have to say comes from Matthew 18,

Then Peter came to him and asked, “Lord, how often should I forgive someone who sins against me? Seven times?”

“No, not seven times,” Jesus replied, “but seventy times seven!” ~ Matthew 18:21-22, NLT.

Following is a post from the old blog that Google shut down. It was originally written in November of 2011, but considering that I still struggle in this area, it seems appropriate to repost it here. In doing so, hopefully I’ll gain new insight, plus McT will read it, and we’ll be able to discuss it when I see him next.

November 26, 2011

I recently had a new abuse memory of something my father did to me when I was little, at what age I’m not sure ~ it probably happened more than once. It surfaced completely unbidden one Sunday morning recently. I was taking a shower as I was getting ready for church, and I was wondering why taking showers is still so difficult for me, even though I’ve remembered what he did to me in the shower when I was two. It just seems like it shouldn’t be so hard for me if I’ve already remembered everything I need to know.

As I was thinking about that I started seeing these pictures in my mind of my father making me take showers with other men besides himself, and making me do bad things with them. It was like I was a baby prostitute, at least partly because I could see money exchanging hands as well. As the pictures came surging into my consciousness and I began to understand the gravity of what he had done to me, I started to feel nauseated, and I began to cry.

I was in shock. My feelings were a confused jumble of sadness, betrayal, rage, and pain. I hated my father, and I felt incredible shame that he had used me in this way. I had always thought that the only time my father used me with other men was during the gang rape when I was three. This new memory showed me that I was tragically and horribly wrong. All I could think of was, how could he treat me like that?!? Children are a gift! A GIFT!! He treated me like trash, and so did his friends. I felt unimaginable grief for the little girl that I was, knowing that I’d been treated in such an unspeakably horrible way.

Now that the memory has surfaced, I have to work at forgiving Harry, as well as the men he forced on me. The idea makes me mad because I didn’t deserve what they did to me, but God loves my father just as much as He loves me, regardless of his behavior towards me.

In addition, forgiveness in the Bible isn’t a suggestion, it’s a commandment. God says that if we don’t forgive those who sin against us, He won’t forgive us when we ask Him for it. It says in Matthew 6,

If you forgive those who sin against you, your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you refuse to forgive others, your Father will not forgive your sins. ~ Matthew 6:14-15, NLT. 

Aside from all that, on a purely personal and practical basis, holding unforgiveness against someone is bad for your health. Studies have shown that when you hold unforgiveness against another person, over time bitterness builds up and it can actually make you physically ill. I know this to be true from hard personal experience.

Additionally, forgiveness is solely for the benefit of the person doing the forgiving ~ in this case, me. It doesn’t in any way excuse the perpetrator, or say that what they did is now okay because you’re forgiving them.

With all of that said, I’ve come to realize that I still have areas of unforgiveness against my mom, mostly because she never protected me from Harry’s rage and abuse. During all the years when I was being beaten, raped, belittled, berated, denigrated, disparaged, and derogated, ad infinitum, ad nauseam, and told by my father everytime he did all this terrible crap to me, that he had to do it because God hated me, and that I was as ugly as if someone had thrown acid in my face, not once did my mother stand up for me, or try to stop my father, or in any way try to protect me.

I’ve told her about what he did to me, and her response has always been that she saw bruises, and that if she had known it was sexual abuse the divorce would have happened a lot sooner than it did. The problem with that is that children die all the time from being physically abused, so her saying that to me means nothing. Plus, she abused me as well. I’ve remembered a number of times when I was an infant where my mother tried to kill me. She would try to drown me in the bathtub or suffocate me with a pillow, so one of my alters, Deadsally, would come out and make me stop squirming so my mother would think she’d succeeded and stop trying. I’ve also had at least one memory of her abusing me sexually as well.

It’s always been easier for me to forgive my mother because I’m just about positive that she’s multiple. I’d be very surprised if she actually remembered any incidents of abuse if I confronted her with them. I realize that her negations could just as easily be her attempt to remain in denial, but I’m also fairly positive that she was abused when she was a child, even though she says she wasn’t.

Another reason I think Mom is multiple is because as far back as I can remember, she would forget where she put things like her keys just minutes after she’d laid them down. And then she’d say things like, “Gremlins hid my keys, where are my keys?” Or she’d accuse my sister or me of hiding them to trick her. She was constantly putting things down, and then minutes later she wouldn’t be able to find them or remember where they were.

So the upshot of it all is that I have more forgiving to do than I had originally thought. It’s not something that I dread doing, or that will be impossible to manage, or anything like that. The Bible says that with God all things are possible, and that’s certainly true in this case. I’ve already forgiven both Mom and Harry for so many other things. This is just more of the same, and I’ll be able to do it with God’s help.

Sometimes I wonder, though. Will it ever end? Will the time ever come when I have nothing left to remember and nothing left to forgive them for?

Sep16

Codependent Me Becomes Entitled ~ Or Was I Already? ~ ‘Tis a Mystery…

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I haven’t posted anything here in just about a year. Last September was the last time I wrote anything; however, I’ve been going through some things that have made me feel like I might benefit from writing about them, so here I am. I’ll have to see if I can actually make a go of the whole writing thing over the long-term. In the past I’ve only been able to keep it up for a couple of weeks or a month at the most. Maybe this time will be different. We will see.

So now, down to what’s been going on…

I’ve come to the realization that there’s a part of me that actually feels entitled and narcissistic where Mom and her money are concerned, something I dislike about myself rather a lot, and something I wasn’t aware of ~ at least not to this degree ~ until just the last couple of months.

I think I understand the root of it. When I was younger the only way I could get what I wanted or needed, no matter what it was, be it physical or emotional, I had to do it for myself. I couldn’t depend on my family to get it for me to save my soul. For example, one Christmas or birthday, I can’t remember which, I wanted a specific cookie press from Williams-Sonoma, so I told Mom and Dad about it, hoping they would get it for me.

When the big day arrived and I opened my gifts, Mom started telling me this tale of the trip she and Dad made to Williams-Sonoma to purchase the cookie press I’d asked for. However, the cookie press I ended up with wasn’t the one I asked for, because… And that’s where it gets weird.

Apparently they made the trip to the Williams-Sonoma store to get the cookie press, but when they got there they had a difficult time finding a parking space ~ my stepdad had multiple sclerosis and, even though he was still able to drive, he had a handicap placard because he could only walk short distances.

So they started out on the bottom level of the parking structure (there were four or five levels) and couldn’t find any available handicap spots. Next level, same thing, and so on up to the top. I don’t remember if Dad was using a wheelchair at that point. If he wasn’t I can understand a little better why they didn’t stay, but even then they could have ordered it from the catalogue~at least that’s how it looks to me as I look back.

I might have asked them why they didn’t order it from the catalogue, to which they would have replied that it would have been late if they’d done that. As far as I’m concerned that’s not an excuse because they’ve given me things before that were ordered from catalogues, and that were late for whatever reason, and it was no big deal. They just gave me a box that contained a picture of the item, and said it was coming late, and I was fine with that.

So whenever I feel like this, where I’m complaining about some gift that Mom and Dad gave me when I was younger, I always feel guilty, like I should have been grateful for what I got, like I was lucky to get anything at all. I mean, there are a lot of kids who are so poor that they don’t get anything at all for Christmas.

I think my problem isn’t so much one of ingratitude for the gifts they gave me, but rather, the fact that I could never depend on them for anything. And the issue of the gifts was simply how their lack of dependability was expressed.

And the other root of the entitlement thing is that Mom did nothing to protect me from Harry’s horrors. Nothing whatever. Plus, she abused me herself as well, though not as viciously and violently as Harry did. So I’ve worked hard to forgive her, but I’ve come to realize that it’s a work in progress. I’ve heard it likened to the layers of an onion. The deeper the layer the harder and more painful it gets. Well, I’ve dealt with enough pain in my life that I’m not especially worried about that

So that’s about it for now.

Jul13

Passive-Agressive Issues Notwithstanding…

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I realized something the other day, or rather, the Lord showed me something. He showed me that I’ve been passive-agressively not paying Mom’s bills to get back at her for not protecting me from Harry when I was little, and for abusing me herself. It explains a number of things and I’m glad to know it, because now maybe I can do something about it.

I’ve managed to significantly lower, and maybe even ruin Mom’s credit rating because I haven’t paid her bills in a timely fashion. It’s not something I’m proud of, and I hope it’s fixable. It seems like it would be. All I’d have to do would be to consistently pay all her bills on time over a long period of time, and keep on doing it, and keep on doing it, etc., etc.

So anyway, once I realized it, I took it to therapy and asked Jeff to pray about it, and he did. So now I have to start paying the bills! I’ve lost any excuse for not doing it. (In case you can’t tell, I’m not crazy about paying bills, passive-aggressive issues notwithstanding.)

I’ve often pondered the wisdom and plan of God in making me the one who’s in charge of my mother’s affairs once she reached a point in her life where she couldn’t handle them on her own. If my sister had survived her battle with cancer it would have been her, but she didn’t, so it was left to me. I’ve never been any good at managing money matters, though I am pretty good at paying my bills on time. My sister, on the other hand, was always meticulous about those issues, about everything really, to the point of being completely anal about it.

I asked God once why He gave me the responsibility of taking care of Mom instead of my sister, because in many ways I’m no good at it. His answer to me was that while she had the skill, I have the heart, and heart is better. Which makes me wonder, did He remove her from the scene by having her get cancer?

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways,” declares the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts. ~ Isaiah 55:8-9, ESV.

I’m so very grateful for God’s mercy in all of this. In many ways I’ve completely bollixed  everything concerning Mom’s finances, but God is so good, and so kind to me! It’s hard for me to fathom sometimes. Despite my clumsy handling of her affairs, she still seems to be in fairly good shape, thank God.

Thanks be to God for His unspeakable Gifts!!