I'm afraid that I haven't been keeping up my end of the bargain.

By that I mean that I haven't been completely honest, no holds barred, as I promised in the first entry. All of my entries thus far have been little, light pastries with no filling. I'm staying at the surface because I've been too self conscious to dive more deeply. It's got to stop.

So here's me. (Gulp.)

When I was a kid, I was abused. I hate to use that word, because I love my mother to death, and I know she still can't bear to use the word herself, though she knows that it's the right one. I've blocked out much of it, or hidden it beneath a veil of humor, but it's there and it's a part of me.

My best friend Amy syays she still remembers me coming into elementary school one day with a shell-shocked look; she remembers me saying that my mother had told me she loathed me. (Amy remembers clearly, because she didn't even know what the word meant. She looked it up and learned that it was nothing a mother should feel toward her daugher, let alone tell her.) I remember being on the phone with Amy, and having my mother come up behind me and knock me to the ground for some small offense, and mumbling, "I've got to go; my mom wants me." I remember being chased through our house and cowering on the far corner of my bed to escape the flying hands. And I remember my little brother and I laughing hysterically and drawing violent caricatures of our mother one day in the car, after she turned around and screamed, "When we get home, I'm going to cut both of you with a knife!"

She has since apologized. She would apologize at the time, but they weren't real. They were just reactions to me, coming sniffling down the stairs to her craftroom, where she would retreat after the fights. I would say, "I'm sorry, Mom!" being very sorry for the distance between us. Mom would turn and say, "Well, I'm sorry too," as if to pat me on the head for coming to her.

Since I've been married, I've learned the rest of the story. Mom was abused by Grandpa, and was subject to fits of rage from Grandma. Grandpa was beaten severely (sometimes with a bat) by his parents. I have no idea how far back this goes, but I don't really want to know. Mom is in the healing process now, and is horrified at her part in the cycle. She is terrified for her grandchildren.

The cycle ends with me! I will NOT be a part of this!

My mom still believes that spanking is a Christian parent's right. I know that even if that were true (and I don't believe it), that I must forfeit that "right" in the battle to change this cycle. The only way out is a complete break with what I though I knew to be true, and that means NO violent discipline. I've already found myself yelling at Eric, as if something inside me had snapped and I couldn't control myself. Even as I was doing it, I was dying inside.