So finally, mercifully, the curtain fell at about 4AM and the show was over. I really blame myself for that 4AM thing. I’m still asking myself, “Why didn’t I just do what I learned to so well before this incident? Why didn’t I just tell my mother whatever it was she wanted to hear and then gone about my merry way? I seriously could have easily ended all of this mess by two in the morning instead of four in the morning.”
The two female leads departed from the stage. My mother joined my father in slumber. I can’t help wondering if he heard all of what went down and why he didn’t help me or bring the whole affair to an end sooner? I went back to my room dazed, confused, and feeling as if I just lived through an episode of the Twilight Zone. I just had absolutely no clue as to what I’d just experienced or why it was something that could still happen in our “modern” times. Head still spinning, I crawled into bed, pajamas be damned.
Trying to sleep when my feet were like icicles had always been rather bothersome for me. But having that same icy feeling spreading throughout my whole body and settling in my chest made drifting off anytime soon seem damn-near impossible. I’ve not since experienced such a cold night and I couldn’t seem to get warm no matter what I tried . . .not that I tried to do much of anything. I was much too overcome with numbness anyway. Numbness that was the result of all the negative emotions that were swirling around in me: shock, anger, guilt, shame, and a twisted form of self-loathing that took up residence right where my soul used to be.
The worst part of all this mess was revealed the following day. Another verbal beating? The rest of the family deciding to pile on or have an excruciatingly awkward heart-to-heart? Being forced to give a full disclosure of all that I had read and researched online? All my books being confiscated? I should mention that I had several books about Wicca at that point. No, none of that. Everything that happened the next day can be summed up in one word: NOTHING! Oh, and two more words: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!
It was as if that whole escapade the night before never even happened. For some unknown reason, I find this more disturbing than if all that other stuff I was wondering about all happened on the same day. It all seemed so very cruel. I may never come to understand just why there were no further questions as to what my thoughts and intentions really were for deciding to do something so “crazy”. Or why no one else stepped in to help me, check on me, or to even see how I was dealing with what happened.
I still don’t know if my mother, my father, or any of my remaining family members learned anything from all of this. My guess would be no, none of them learned anything. But I sure as hell learned a lot, lessons that would serve me well for years to come. I just wish that the price for them wasn’t so damn high. So here’s what I have been able to learn.
* How NOT to treat someone you don’t agree with
* How NOT to handle something you don’t understand
* How NOT to foster open dialogue and communication between generations
* To NOT use fear and/or intimidation to get a point across and how doing such a thing doesn’t work. It just creates resentment and ill will. It also makes one look insecure, weak-willed, and like a bully.
* And, most importantly, to NEVER allow myself to become so close-minded and stubborn that I end up doing something this heinous and damaging to the children I hope to have someday.
* To NEVER allow them to feel like they’ll only get more mentally and emotionally poisonous antics if they ever come to me for help, guidance, or support.
* That I would never want my children to look at me one day and think to themselves, “I never want to be like Mom.”
* That I would never want any children of mine to grow up and write about stuff like this.
* To NEVER have those children cut me out of their lives almost completely and getting properly shut down when I lodge a complaint about that.
* To NOT have those future children become more like casual acquaintances than my own flesh and blood because they felt they had no other choice but to do so.
It would truly break my heart if I looked around one day and found that my relationship with my own children was like the relationship my own mother has with me. That has got to be why for a really long time now, she’s been giving me these rather odd looks. Maybe she knows that I have been lost to her forever, even though I’m often standing right in front of her. I get the feeling that she is looking at something at something she will never quite understand, something very far away.