A Story Of Conquering Pain – 3 of 4

As a child of 4 or so, I was playing in the sand pile in our backyard with the cocker spaniel puppy my father gave me (“Buffy” because he was buff colored) when my mother (my alcoholic, schizophrenic, prostitute, mother) shouted at me from the back porch, to come in and empty the trash.  Two times she shouted at me, and two times I shouted back, “No!”  (The sun was shinning, it was nice and warm, the puppy and I were having fun; I didn’t want to go empty the damn trash.)

 

 

 

 

 

I looked up in time to see the hammer flying through the air to strike, with a sickening “thud,” my puppy’s skull, killing it instantly. 

 

“Now get inside and empty the trash,” she shouted again.  I knew I was bad and that I deserved the punishment.  I “knew” that it was really me that killed my puppy because, because she told me if I had done my chores as I was told, my puppy would have lived.  Do you hear me?  I “KNEW” I WAS BAD!  Moreover, I knew it for many years after.

 

 

 

 

 

Years later, after my only marriage (17 years) ended and I was in therapy, I told the therapist that story.  “Was your mother athletic, I mean, did she play any sports like baseball or anything,” she asked.  “No,” I responded.  “How far was the sand pile from the back porch?”  “About 20 –25 feet I’d guess,” I answered.  “Did your mother have a pretty good aim?”  “I’d say so, she hit the puppy,” I said.  “If you had children, would you ever throw a hammer at a target that far away with your son sitting next to it?”  “No.”  “Why?” she asked. “Because I might hit my s …”  It hit me at that instant, I broke into tears … she wasn’t aiming at the puppy … she was aiming at me!  (See Addendum.)

 

 

 

To not forgive costs us more than we know!  To not forgive assures we will retain the wounds and pass them to our children and/or to our spouses in the form of punitive or abusive behavior.  To not forgive reinforces we are “bad,” “broken,” “flawed,” or “inferior.”

 

 

 

 

 

There were many other events that occurred during my time at my mother’s home until, twelve years later, at age 16, I left home for good; I’ve never been back.

 

 

 

 

To not forgive our abusers dooms us to a never-ending cycle of replicating the pain of our childhood by picking a lover/partner who will help us relive the unresolved pain of our childhoods, or a lover who will abuse us as our wounded parent did.  Example: a woman, severely beaten as a little girl, will frequently find a husband to beat her as an adult.

 

 

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(Continued)