The Shamrock Through the Trees


Yesterday, I took the kids shopping with my mom. We were supposed to get shoes and only shoes. So how did the kids wind up with watches and hats. She does not have any boundaries!! It upsets me.

This is not necessarily about my mom, this is about the memories as a child. Not the good memories of going to the circus or of family members who I miss to this day, but the memories of a childhood filled with hurtful words and rods that hurt.

There are so many days that I want to believe that the abuse did not happen. That I am so sick that I made it all up. Then yesterday something happens to bring memories flooding back and verifying all of my fears.

Being children, my kids wanted to show their new shoes to my dad. I was skeptical about going in the house. It was late and I was not sure what mood he was in. He seemed ok until he opened the mail and became enraged over one of the items. All went downhill quickly from there. The last thing that he did was get an empty wrapping paper roll out to threaten their dogs with.

My daughter began to cry and my sons just stared open-mouthed at the scene in front of them. I got myself together enough to tell the kids to get their coats on. At that moment, I remembered all that he did to me. The rages. The times when he said that he could not stand the sight of me and sent me to my room for the entire day and I was not allowed to come out.

At least I could get my kids out of that situation. I could save them from seeing it escalate any farther. They talked to me on the way back home and seemed to understand that their grandfather was sick and that we would not be seeing him for a while. At least at his house. He is not healthy and not a good role model.

I am so disappointed that he could not keep it together for even an hour in front of my kids, yet I am relieved to know that the memories are not all in my head. They happened and I have a right to be upset over them.

So one shamrock represents another memory uncovered in the forest of memories. I am sure that after the kids leave I will be journaling and will see what comes out.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day. I hope that anyone who reads this has a good day. For me, the day means spending time with the kids and just hanging around the house. No stress!!

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