On most days those memories just come and go and I observe them just like I would observe people passing by in a park, however on some days, like today, those memories refuse to leave. They cling to me like a two-year old, demanding for attention, screaming and crying at the same time. I’ve tried to make peace with those memories, yet they raise their ugly heads on some days. I hate them, especially when they arrive like an unexpected guest to change my world upside down.
They lie buried somewhere in the depth of my heart, a corner that I seldom visit these days. I am happy or maybe I pretend to be happy without those memories, but I know it’s there. Those memories are just like those unwanted storage stuff cluttered in your attic. They occupy most space in my life.
They suffocate and tear me apart.
My nine-year old went for a field trip today and just as I dropped her at the bus-stop, she hugged me. As she waved me , her smiling face reminded me of a five-year old wanting to be hugged and loved. I reached home and found tears flowing down my cheeks. I locked the bedroom door and hid myself in the darkness of my room. I didn’t want the world to see me break down yet again and think, ‘Oh! Not again. She’s gone mad.’
The voices took over,
‘You’re good for nothing’
‘You’re happy now, you killed my daughter’
‘You’re just lazy.’
‘You don’t want to take responsibility.’
‘You’re a mad woman, an unfit mother and a good for nothing wife.’
‘She should be in the mental hospital.’
‘She needs one tight slap.’
One after the other, they tattered my soul. I wept for hours and then there was silence…as if someone had switched off my mental music system. The tears stopped flowing in that silence. I lay there on my bed…staring at the ceiling fan encompassed in the silence within me.
Two decades later those memories still haunt me. The intensity has considerably reduced, yet they still leave me with an uncomfortable feeling. I some days wish to go back in time, just to hug and kiss her. On days when I miss her terribly, my silly mind creates images of memories that we’ve never had. On days when my daughter sleeps on my lap, I yearn for my mother’s lap.
On days when my daughter shares stories of her school and friends, I listen to her nodding my head, saying an occasional, “Haan. Is it? Oh!” It’s moments like these that bring back……
Of my Mom!
Memories of her unloving presence, indifference, neglect, ignorance, abuse – physical, verbal and emotional.
However, now I don’t spend days and months playing those memories in my head, instead I feel the pain for few hours, pour it down in my journal or dance it out for a good half-an-hour. That’s it, I feel better. At least now I’m aware that the control is in my hand and that I can choose to shift my focus and shut those voices.
The moment I do that, I recover and I feel a sense of calm rising within me.
I had to write this post mainly to share the way I feel about those old memories now. I may never be able to erase out my not so good childhood memories with my mom, yet I have successfully managed to reduce the intensity. In doing that, I have regained more control over my thoughts and I’m able to manage my emotions in a better way.
PS: I am linking this post to yeah write #263 nonfiction challenge.