Truth Be Told

Lie number one you’re supposed to have it all together
And when they ask how you’re doing
Just smile and tell them, “Never better”

Lie number 2 everybody’s life is perfect, except yours
So keep your messes and your wounds
And your secrets safe with you behind closed doors

Truth be told
The truth is rarely told, now

I say I’m fine, yeah I’m fine oh I’m fine, hey I’m fine but I’m not
I’m broken
And when it’s out of control I say it’s under control but it’s not
And you know it
I don’t know why it’s so hard to admit it
When being honest is the only way to fix it
There’s no failure, no fall
There’s no sin you don’t already know
So let the truth be told

~Matthew West

We went to Poppy’s house, last night. My sister, Jackie, and me. He was so cute. I tried to help him peel the potatoes. He told me to sit down, relax, and let him serve us. He plated all our food, and brought it to us. He buttered our corn on the cob, put salt and pepper on our potatoes. He even cut our grilled chicken into slices. My dad is just the sweetest human. We sat out on his porch, talked, and laughed. It was a great evening.

I’ve known, for a few months, that my sister has let our mother back into her life. I know she visited our mother, back in December. I know that they are “friends”, on social media. Just because I don’t use Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, doesn’t mean I don’t have friends who do. They have asked me about some things they’ve seen. Our mother has sent some hateful messages, to our dad, too. She likes to do her best to hurt us, by throwing in our face, that she has my sister back under her “spell”. Although my sister knows what our mother has done, while we’ve been adults, she has no idea the extent of her cruelty. My sister had a very different childhood, from my brother and I. Our mother always treated my sister better. My sister never was hit. She was always allowed to receive affection from our dad, and our mother gave it freely to her, as well. I begged to get my belly button pierced, when I was 15 years old. My mother wouldn’t allow it. When my sister turned 15, our mother took her to get her belly button pierced. That seems like a small thing, but it’s one example of many times she sent the clear message to me, I love your sister more, and I enjoy hurting you. She never supported me when I did cheer, or ran track, or played volleyball. She didn’t wear the pins the school gave parents, with my sports pictures on them. She wasn’t there, when I received academic awards. Not once, did she tell me I did a good job. She never missed my sister’s things. My brother was treated worse than I was. Our dad was the only person who gave us unconditional love. He just wasn’t home, to see our life very often, when we were kids.

I’ve never blamed my sister, for her childhood. I’ve never been angry with her, about the things I didn’t get from our mother. She doesn’t even know so much of these things that my brother and I do. I’m worried, for her. I’m afraid she’s going to get hurt. I’m sure of it, actually. I can’t tell her what to do, though. I can’t describe how uncomfortable it makes me, knowing our mother will be so near, this coming weekend. I’m terrified she’ll show up, at my door. I will have to make certain all doors and windows are locked. I will have to keep a very watchful eye on my children. It’s a stress I didn’t imagine myself having to experience again.

I wish my mother dead. I’m aware of how awful, and unchristian that makes me. It’s the truth, anyway. My ultimate wish, would be for her to be truly sorry, and to be the mother I’ve dreamt she could be. But, that’s not ever going to happen. I understand this, all too well. My only other hope, could be that she didn’t exist. That way, she couldn’t hurt us anymore. She wouldn’t be able to use my sister. My baby niece wouldn’t have to know a “grandma” who’s incapable of ever truly loving her. I’m not sure I can describe the way I feel. It isn’t anger. It’s not hate. I wouldn’t call it sadness, exactly. I want nothing from my mother. I want to enjoy the people who matter. I want to trust that those who care about me today, will care tomorrow. I want to feel safe.