So, when I was 17… I came home one day to find my diary on my bed. Not burried in my closet where I left it… but, on my bed. Worse yet, there was a long letter in it, written TO me, from my mother.
YIKES! Can you say, Panic??
I had kept this diary since I was about 11. It had EVERYTHING in it. I would write pages sometimes, and it was in a big 3 ring binder. I later learned that it took my mom a week to read it… before letting on she had found it.
Now… can I blame my mom for reading it? Not according to her. She said, I must have wanted her to. But, the fact that I had it hidden in the deepest darkets corner of my closet didn’t seem to say that to me!?
The weeks immediatly following were a big turning point in my life. It was when I finally had the guts to break out from my double image of a life… but, not until going thru a bit of hell first.
There were some pretty trying times…
First of all, I woke up in the middle of almost every night for several weeks, to find my mother praying over me in tongues, and anointing my forhead with oil (vegetable oil to be exact, and she’d be painting a cross of it on my forehead)… accusing me of all kinds of outlandish things. I was a nervous wreck for a while… couldn’t sleep… couldn’t eat… lost a lot of weight (the one GOOD thing!).
Yes, mom had read my diary and found out I had lied, and had sneaked out my window, that I had been drinking a little, and heaven forbid – that I secretly did NOT like going to church anymore but was going because I felt like I HAD to.
Really, there wasn’t anything that bad in my diary… I hadn’t even had sex yet… but, you would’ve thought she read that I was in a Satan-worshiping-sex-and-drugs-cult or something. ?? She wanted me to go to the pastor with her and to repent, ask forgiveness, “drop all my worldly friends”, and basically admit I was the biggest f!#@-up on earth.
For once, I stood up to her.
The biggest thing that helped me to do this, was the “dropping my friends” part. No way. She called me a hypocrite, and I told her she was right… and that I HAD been going to church only for her sake and that I should not be going, and so… I wasn’t go to go anymore. And, with that she… well?… can you say “freaked out”?
She didn’t believe anything I said… and the fact that I got good grades, and didn’t get in trouble didn’t matter. Yup – my mom went on a mission to “save me” from my heathen friends, the brainwashing of my father, and all my sinful worldly ways.
Sometimes… you do have to laugh. Here’s a good example of a such a time:
Ok – So, right around this time, I came home one day, and my Dad was sitting there, all serious… holding a little copper mug, and a little test-tube water bottle.
I was scared. Uh oh. What had mom told him? What was happening now?? She told me she wasn’t GOING to tell him anything she read in my diary, because she said “he couldn’t help me”. So, I was confused for a moment… what was up?
Dad said to me, “Do you know what this is?” in a very stern and serious voice -as he showed me the mug and test tube…
I said, “yes”
…. feeling relieved a little because this was something he DID know about… sort of… and it wasn’t anything bad.
“Well? what is it for??”, he demanded… “your mother found it in the basement.”
His tone was accusing… as if he had caught me red-handed at something really bad.
Me: “Well… Remember when I “found” that hamster than I wanted to keep years ago when I was like 12, and you wouldn’t let me keep it?”
Me: “well? remember, I told you that I hid it for a while under my nightstand and nobody ever knew? But then I finally gave it away… and you never knew about it until I told you about it years later??”…
Dad, looking a little more relaxed and a little confused himself now, “yes…?”
Me: “well, THAT was the little cup that I had in his home… and the tube was part of his little water bottle. See? there’s still a piece of litter stuck in the cup. I must’ve hid them in the rafters years ago after I gave him away”.
I was still confused. But, my father began laughing uncontrollably. And, teasingly calling out to my mom – who was lurking around the corner, eaves-dropping. He asked her to come and tell me what she had told him.
My mom was not amused. She had that glazed over crazy look in her eyes. Her eyes darting back and forth. I knew immediately she thought we must be ganging up on her. She woulnd’t answer him and stood there looking like she was going to explode.
My father didn’t care. He was relieved… and laughing still…
and between laughs, he said,
“your mother told me she found this in the rafters in the basement, and that it belonged to one of you kids… and that it was for smoking some kind of dope. She thought, you put stuff in the tube, heated it in the cup, and inhaled it when it came out the tube thing”.
With that, I also began laughing… hard.
And, my mother did lose it. She screamed at us, “Well, how was *I* suppose to know that!?!?!”
It never dawned on her that, perhaps, she could’ve asked before making up such a crazy thing. I wondered how many people she had already told. Then, I didn’t care.
This was around the time I decided that I just didn’t care what she thought anymore or what the rest of the church thought either… of course, deep down, I did care… but, I began telling myself at that point that I didn’t… that I shouldn’t… and I tried real hard not to.
For months I came home, wondering if she had told my Dad anything, and if so, WHAT she would tell him. I was very bervous. Eventually, I realized that even if she DID tell him anything “bad” I did – that he would have to take my side. He knew she made up things, I know he did. I also figured he couldn’t ground me for something my friends did, or something I had done YEARS earlier. So, eventually, I got over it… and stopped worrying about it.
Years later, I told my Dad about what happened when she read my diary. He was mad that I never told him when it was gonig on. He said he would have “made her stop:.
A few other pretty funny things my mom accused me of?
- snorting the butane refills that were for my cordless curling iron… (she kept stealing them from me and throwing them out).
- being bulimic
(I had lost weight… but, it was because she turned me into a nervous wreck and she made me feel sick all the time and I couldn’t eat much, not because I was bulemic. I absolutely hate throwing up.)
- going to meet my “connection” –
when I had no idea what one was. She obviously thought I was a drug addict, and I would have to show her receipts of clothes I bought for the prom to prove I hadn’t been buying drugs. Usually this was in the middle of the night… when I could barely think.
- being a whore that would never be satisfied by the touch of a man until I repented and became a child of God again.
Okay – that last one wasn’t so funny… especially since I had never even had sex when she said it.
So, maybe not so funny… but, still… ya gotta laugh…. at least I had to… and still do. What are my other options?