No More War! – 3

Page 3

“Why won’t she just stop her screaming, and why does he have to be so noisy”, thought Roger.

“Why the hell do I have to sit here and listen to this fanfare, day in and day out”?

“Is this what I am going to be sentenced to for the rest of my bloody days, I can’t stand it….just SHUT UP!”

Roger sunk back into his chair and starting flicking through the television programmes over and over again. This was the only way he could stop the constant flashbacks that he experienced since his return.

Flashes and broken memories, memories of the things that he had done, and things that he had seen while he was on tour over the past four years, yes, things that no-man should have seen or done.

The noise, the noise, the noise of bullets flying past his head, the explosion that cost him his leg!

The taste of dust in his throat and the heat, the smell of dead meat, and pain he felt, as the explosion echoed around him, the blast that stole away his freedom.

The heat as he lay there waiting to be placed out of his misery, the painful wound becoming infected as he waited, and waited, and waited….

Suddenly he realised that he missed it!

Why did he miss this life so full of horror?  Why could he not return to his family, the family he use to miss when away, and the family he could not wait to return to – the family he loved!

Why was he unable to look at his wife, or sit chatting to his son for longer that an hour a day, compared to the hours he had spent thinking of his son and wishing he was with him when he had been away.

What had changed?

Timmy raced into the sitting room, and announced that he was off to school, and had only come to say goodbye to his dad….his dad the hero….his dad his hero!

Roger glanced towards him but looked straight through his son.

He only managed to smile, as Timmy threw his arms around his dad and kissed him on the cheek.

With that he was gone!

And Roger was left with his haunting thoughts all alone once again.

Thoughts that had plagued him since he had gain consciousness in a military hospital five months ago, since then the memories of the dreadful day played through his mind, as if he was constantly watching a re-play of a horror movie.

Over and over again, the same scenes tormented him day into night, night into day, hour after hour, moment following moment.

If these memories were so terrible, then why did he so want to go back, why did he feel so lost and alone?

Why did he feel neither alive nor dead, why did he no longer feel a thing?

Diane popped her head round the door and said goodbye to him, informing him that she was off to drop Timmy at school, and would go via the shops to buy something for tea.

She asked him was there anything he needed or wanted.

He nodded, indicating that he did not want anything.

She closed the door shut and left, chocking back the tears, something she went through every time she saw her husband sat there so distant, so broken and so alone.

Her husband the soldier, her husband the hero, her husband no more!

(C) 2012

No More War! – 2

Page 2

Try as she may, she could not remember the all the facts and finer details describing how he had ended up in a military hospital, nor could she recall all the information that explained the reason why he lost his leg.

The only information she held was what his Sergeant had told her, how he was a hero and had saved his platoon.  Sergeant Jones had added that she should be very proud of him, proud of his bravery and courage.

Perhaps at the time when she received this dreadful news she had been fully informed, nevertheless, all she knew was that her husband had gone to war and come back a broken man, and now he was coping with the recovery of his physical injuries – heroically.

He had taken to walking with crutches incredibly well, and was able to get from A to B without much trouble and very little pain.  Oh yes, psychically he was on the mend, however, mentally he was truly struggling.  And he was unable to sleep in their bed anymore and when he did sleep, he slept sat in his armchair in the sitting room. She missed him, she longed to hold him at night and wake up next to the man she loves, and she felt so alone!

On many occasions, she awoke her from a deep-sleep to the sound of a grown man wailing, to a cry that would piece the air.

The countless times that she had come downstairs in the middle of the night to the noise of his cries and wailing – while he was asleep.  And as she listened to his cries, she wondered what he had experienced, what was it that made her strong man wail as if he were a child?

It was heartbreaking hearing him in so much pain, and devastating seeing he sat there lifeless, soulless, and empty.

“Mommy, where’s my shoes?”

Timmy’s voice brought her back into consciousness and away from her disturbing thoughts.

“I have them downstairs…now get a move on”.

“You have exactly ten minutes to get to this breakfast table, and I am counting!”

Another empty threat she thought.

The pressures of the last eight months were starting to take their toll on her, and she lost her temper with Timmy on most days.

It was not his fault, she would tell herself every time she reprimanded him, for he was hurting too!

Timmy flew down the stairs, and slid onto his seat at the breakfast table as fast as lightening, and then he tucked into his breakfast cereal.  And through mouthful of cornflakes he informed his mom that he had football training after school, and would need his football kit to take to school today.

Once again, he asked her if his dad would be coming to see him play football, and once again, Diane had to find an excuse to cushion him from disappointment.

How can a six year old fully understand that his dad, who was a hero, and had lost his leg, was not ready to face the world that he had left four years ago?

The world of school runs and football matches, of grazed knees and proud moments, of collecting milk and bread for tea….of mundane, normal civic living.

No More War!

Page 1

 “Timmy, are you ready?”

Diane shouted, as she rushed around the house trying to find abandoned school ties, football kits and shoes.

“You are going to be late once more and remember what you teacher said about you being continually late”.

“You don’t want her sending you to the principle office again”.  Diane knew that an empty threat would motivate him.

“Why can’t I stay home today?” Timmy whined.

“Daddy’s only been home for a short time, and I want to play with him”.

“Because your father needs rest, and you have all evening to hear his stories….now get a move on”.

Her frustration grew!

At present, home-life was stressful, and no matter how resilient she tried to be, this was a difficult time.

Since Roger had returned from his latest tour in Afghanistan, he had hardly spoken to her or to Timmy.

All he managed was a nodding of the head, and he only seemed to answer their countless questions when necessary, and to appease them.

Roger had been back home for the last two months, and Timmy was only allowed an hour a day of his fathers presence, no wonder he thought his dad had only been home for a short time, understandably he missed him.

“Why can’t daddy walk me to school today”, Timmy called out eagerly.

Diane intervened to save Timmy from disappointment, and said that daddy had things to do this morning, and she would be walking him to school as per usual.

This set Timmy off, and he began to protest profusely, demanding he gets his own way.  Diane raised her voice, hoping to end his countless demands and prevent yet another argument.

Furthermore, she knew it was pointless trying to reason with Roger, the doctors had told her to let him rest and take his time to readjust back into the reality of civilian life.

Listening to what the other army wives said about the ‘problems’ they had experienced, when their husbands had returned, she knew she was in for a stressful time.

However, she believed that they would survive this ‘little crisis’ that her small family had to endure.

She recalled how life was for them in the past, she and Roger had been very close, and they would therefore get through this period, this was only a temporary set back for him.  She believed that everything would be alright in time, well, at least this is what she would tell herself over and over again.

Who was she kidding?

Things were never going to be the same again for Roger.

Why, he was lucky to be alive!

Butterflies and Moonbeams

Hidden

In the dark

Alone

Waiting for the end.

My time

Spent concealed

In my cocoon of despair.

Wanting to feel

The sun

Upon my translucent skin.

Brightest colours

Big and bold

One day, I’ll begin.

Every caterpillar

Has a chance

To be the butterfly,

So I’m told.

Therefore I await

In coldest days

Till I shall fly.

Until my wings

Of gold unfold

I dream of moonbeams in the sky.

The ugly caterpillar

I may be

Until my cast does break.

Then I will shine

Yes, I shall be

The butterfly, awake!

The end!

Chapter 16: Closing down, the last exit!

Alice sat and ate her breakfast, while watching the news on the television, as a feeling of excitement came over her. Today, she will go and collect Sophia, and together they will go to collect Monica, as she comes out of the treatment centre. Finishing her breakfast, she hastily finished the rest of her practicalities before she rushed outside and climbed into her car.

She drove off towards the house belonging to the foster family, who had made Sophia a part of their family for the past six months. Alice was pleased with the arrangement because Sophia had seemed really happy living there and had flourished.   She was doing well, although a single day did not passed, where she would not miss her mother tremendously.

However, her trips to visit her mother at the treatment centre reinforced her love for her, and she had noticed the changes her mother was accomplishing, this had brought her great relieve and joy.

As the car arrived outside the house which had held Sophia in safety for this time, Sophia came running outside to meet Alice.  Her excitement had awoken her at six a.m. and she was unable to contain her enthusiasm on this day.  So the family had allowed her to sit and wait by the window in the sitting room, but not before she had eaten her breakfast.   There was that much excited chatter between mouthfuls of cereal and the atmosphere had become contagious, eventually the entire family were waiting in the sitting room with her.

She was going to miss them, they had been kind and caring towards her, and she felt very much a part of this special family for a little while.

Nevertheless, it was now time for her to return to her mother, the person she loved the most.

Alice opened the passenger’s door and invited Sophia to climb in, if you wanted Sophia to enter into any space, you needed to invite her in as she feared the consequences of entering anywhere uninvited. Alice realised that Sophia would forever carry her fears and stored memories, her habits and behaviours that kept her safe, and no amount of counselling or therapy would fully rectify ever aspect of the damaged caused in childhood to a child. Alice had her own idiosyncrasies that she had developed as defence mechanisms to protect her from the hurt that those who were meant to protect her had inflicted on her. They were now a part of her very being and a remainder of how far she had come.   Within every negative event there is a positive learning to be gained, and some times one needs to heal the pain to see the light that shines.

There is always hope, yes that was evident today!

The reunion of these two beautiful souls, these two precious beings reunited was a sight that Alice will hold fondly within her heart forever. The reintegration of mother and child is the most amazing happening and Alice felt privileged to witness this as it occurred. There stood two people who needed each other so much in a warm embrace and suddenly the world seem to be a different place.

They had both been given another chance, an optimistic and sober opportunity to place the past where it belongs, and look at the further with clarity and hope. They could start living again and each day they would grow stronger and heal the inner wounds that had prevented them from developing in the past, today was the day they both shone.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little stars,

I so wonder how you are,

Up above the sky so high,

Spread your winds and learn to fly”

Chapter 16

Alice came from a ‘working class’ family, who lived on an estate in Stonebridge Park, and this was one of the toughest estates to tolerate. Her Jamaican father and Irish mother had married young, and worked hard, but regardless how much they laboured, they struggled to make ends meet and feed a family of ten, seven children, and their grandmother.  Her father used to drink excessively and was abusive when he was drunk.

While her mother was a slender woman, but she was stronger than one would imagine for her size, she had to be to manage a man of her father’s structure and force. Alice spent most of her childhood in an array of children’s homes, and with many different foster families, this was the only way her mother could keep her safe from the brutality of her father.

He was a very troubled man.

As a child, Alice was separated from her brothers and sisters; and therefore, her childhood was fragmented. She spend many years working through her bitter-sweet past until she reached absolution. This is the reason why she studied social care and became a social worker, she realised that she had become a wounded helper, someone who wanted to heal others as she had been healed herself. She believes that she would not have reached this point if there had not been other’s who listened to her and understood, who had healed their own wounds, just as she had done.

Alice arrived at the flat in Islington and letting out a deep sigh she walked towards the front door of the ground flat where Monica and Alice lived. She braced herself as she knocked on the door and waited.

She heard a small voice coming from inside the flat, eventually the door was opened by a bedraggled Monica who looked shattered. Alice entered the flat and found her usual chair in the sitting room, before she could say a word Monica broke down, and for the next hour she let out those years of repressed emotions. Finally, she accepted that she needed help!

They spent the next hour discussing what the options were and decided that the best solution was for Monica to go into treatment, and Sophia to go into care for the length of the treatment programme. Alice said she was start making the necessary arrangements, and would stay today until Sophia arrived home from school to support Monica in telling her the news.  Sophia put of a brave face for her mother and said that she understood the reasoning behind the decision; however, that night she wept herself to sleep. It was a painful day, but it was also an optimistic day.  Full of sorrow alongside hopefulness, at the end of the day, all three were beyond exhaustion.

What do you want from me?

Expecting indications,

Games, won’t play your games,

I’ll offer no pity, to carry your shame,

Who is going to take the blame?

I have nothing left,

Disappointing disagreements,

Shall I sit here and watch you mislead me,

With your tales, stories, lies,

Is this where our friendship dies?

I’m not cut out for this,

Destructive disillusions,

I’ve seen it all before, it’s lame,

Your new found wildness, I refuse to tame,

Look at me, can’t you see, we’re not the same.

What does this really mean?

Everlasting fictional dream,

I’ll not be there, to hear you scream,

Nor shall I watch, you create a scene,

So I ask, what does this actually mean?

Chapter 15

Alice had been a spectator to both sides of the coin.

She was well acquainted with the two faces that consisted of Monica’s addiction. She had seen the impact this illness had had on Monica, when it brought her down to her knees, and when she was consumed by torment, as it devoured her very soul. Alice bore witness to Monica’s self-destruction, her self-hate, her suicide attempts, and her persistent announcement, that she would be better off dead.

Alice had arrived on certain days to find her incoherent and in a semi-conscious state, cursing the very essence of her being, denouncing every part of her soul as evil, and worthless. On these days, Alice would sit with her and listen to her rant and rave at the injustice that she had had to endure as a child, listen as she allowed years of pent up anger and pain to roll out until she was exhausted and would fall asleep. Alice would think that these episodes would have been more beneficial to Monica, if she could remember all these words of inner suffering, which she had just set free.

If, at the time, she had been sober, and could narrate her internal torment to a professional, who could not only bear witness and validate her being, but help her to release her enormous amount of suppressed pain.  Where she may release all the pain, suffering and regret, where she could reach a place of solace, or inner calm, moreover, where she may eventually heal her weary heart and soul.

However, when a drunken rant was her only was of communicating how she felt, Alice felt that this inappropriate method seemed to cause more damage than cure.   Moreover, if Alice mentioned anything about the last drunken session the following time they met, then Monica would be so full of shame that she would dismiss anything said and close down.

No, Monica needed to find her courage to address her painful past in a sober and coherent way, so she could grieve the loss of her inner child to an abusive mother.  Where she could become resilient and take back her power, and let go of the relationship she needed had but sought out as a child, so lonely and loveless.

Alice then thought of Sophia, and how she would react to the news that she would be separated from her mother once again. Sophia would blame herself again, and wonder why she was being punished, that is how she felt the last time she was taken away from her mother, and her home. Alice remembered that day as if it was yesterday; she never forgot that dreadful day and believed it would haunt her for the rest of her time. Telling a young child that they need to stay with another family for a while as their mommy or daddy was unable to care for them at the moment, not matter how you dress that up; it always comes out the same.

Sophia worked so hard to stay at home and in her little room, to remain in her school where she had a friend, and more importantly to see her mother everyday.  She helped around the house, more than any other child of her age should be expected to do, when she came home and her mother was either out or ‘out-of-it’, she was then responsible for doing the washing, shopping and cooking for her self.Just to prove to those in ‘charge’ of her life that she and her mother were fully-functioning and able to care for each other, and that no-one need go away.

She was a good girl, so why was she being punished?

Alice knew how that felt; she had walked in Sophia shoes.

Can you hear me?

See me, touch me

Inside glass menagerie

Exhibitionist lifestyle

Grotesquely overrated

Hidden from view

My disobedience

Repressed aggression

Silenced and controlled

Therapy session

In the dark

Weekly watchfulness

Rain on window

My distraction

Starting outside, misty

Coldest morning

New dawn, becoming

Ice queen falling

Razor sharp word that scorn

Tiny voices inside my head

Wishing I was never born

Disappointment, I so dread

Swollen eyes, constant weeping

Not through sadness

Frustrated irate hate

Good girls always behave

I be a woman now

So don’t obey

No longer imprisoned worthless slave

Alice of wonder! – Chapter 14

Alice woke at 6 a.m., she felt heavy hearted, and did not want to face this day, where she would have to bear witness to the separation of two lost souls, as they needed to say goodbye to each other for a short while, why so melodramatic?

Well, after playing devil’s advocate for these two wonderful people for the past six years, and suddenly needing to make a decision that was difficult to decide but necessary to prevent their lives from falling deeper into the realms of destruction; this was going to be an emotional day for the three of them.  Alice was the social worker who had been allocated to work on Sophia and Monica case.   And before continue, anything that Alice says about them has been permitted, as they know that she is telling their story, in fact, this was a request.

They chose to tell their tale in the hope that others may gain an insight into the nightmare, the monster, namely addiction. Perhaps, they were both seeking absolution and by telling they story, she hoped this will give them the solace they needed. Let’s commence from the start, today began as any ordinary day but ended up becoming something quite spectacular. Something unforeseen and something that Alice did not imagine would occur today.   She thought, and believed, that in time this event would transpire, but not today.

Her day began with her standard trip into the office to collect her file on Sophia and Monica, having checked her emails and other messages; she attended a meeting to discuss the progress of this little family.  And then set off for my monthly home visit to ‘check-in’ on them, to ensure they were both managing.

Over the past six years, Alice had become very fond of both of them, and sometimes she would needed to challenge her professional boundaries, but she found that distancing herself from a child with such desperate desire for affection was a difficult and cruel task to undertake. She struggled, when she was unable to validate Sophia’s worth, to appreciate her as a worthy human being who has the right to be acknowledged as anyone else, who has the right to be told that she is so amazing and bright.

This has been the most challenging case Alice had ever worked in her fifteen years as a social worker, and she wonder if at times she saw herself in little Sophia. More importantly, this has been the most rewarding case she had worked on too, and unbeknownst to her, on this Monday morning, things were about to turn around in a most astonishing way. The meeting went on longer than Alice thought it would, and she was concerned by the suggestions that were been ‘bounced around’ by her fellow colleagues, suggestions that it may be time for action and results. And this normally meant that the child, who case was been discussed, would be taken into care.

Alice felt nervous and fearful!

However, she knew that if things had not improved by this set date, then the outcome would not be pleasing for this little family. Yet hearing the official outcome, she was taken by surprised but knew that she needed to remain calm and focused, desperately trying to suppress any personal feelings as they arose, and the lump in her throat caused her to feel as if she was choking.

Her mind was racing.

“Maybe I have become too involved”, she thought, as I left the meeting room.

“Was this outcome all my fault, perhaps if I was not trying so hard to help this little family survive, I may have seen that the situation had become ominous”, she reflected grasping at straws to try and understand what had indeed gone wrong and who was to blame.

“Perhaps this should be my last case”, she wondered.

For a while now, she had thought that perhaps she needed to develop further in her career, or do something completely different.

“I have been working too hard lately, and procedures and protocols are changing, along with the cuts to social services and the workloads unrealistically high”.

“Changes to the way in which we work go against my ethically beliefs, and I feel powerless at time”, these were some of the many thoughts that plagued her for sometime now.

Thoughts and questions were swimming around inside her head, as she headed for the office door and towards her parked car, to head off to be the bearer of very bad news.

This part of Alice’s job was most painful, not matter how necessary this outcome may be, it still is unpleasant watching a family being torn apart because they are unable to function ‘normally’, and have been caught in a dysfunctional, unmanageable regime for far too long.

As she drove towards Monica’s flat in Islington, Alice recalled the memories she held.

The hours she had spent listening to reason, and empty promises, from Monica, while having to encourage hope and potential for Sophia.

Monica explaining in desperation, how she was trying so hard, but could not dig herself out of her depression, how she could only function or face the day if she had a drink or/and a substance inside her blood to numb the pain.

Alice believed that Monica hated herself for the way she treated her daughter and thought that Monica was fully aware of the damage she was causing her daughter.  How this would affect her daughter for the rest of her life, just as her mother’s behaviour had affected her as a child, and still did. Alice witnessed how Monica’s guilt made matters worse, and she tried to destroy herself even further for her part in the unhappiness that she caused her daughter. Monica said that she knew too well how it felt to hear and see your mother in a drunken state surrounded by men.

As Alice listened to these words from Monica, she thought that she was just saying what she wanted Alice to hear at times, she felt that Monica dismissed her true feelings and would just use substances to block out the pain. It was as if she was able to express these feelings but at the same time she was so detached from any emotion that in all honestly these were just words, empty words; and Monica knew that too!

Alice could see how Monica’s childhood had affected her so severely, and the damage she carried from her early years, and having this understanding made it difficult to place any blame on Monica. In the past, Alice had recognised how Monica had not had an opportunity to work through this trauma, or the chance to heal herself from her history, a past so full of haunting memories, memoirs of a stolen childhood.

However, every time She  mentioned counselling, Monica froze and withdrew, Monica feared all professionals of the mental health service, and would sternly insisting that she did not need nor want to talk to anyone about her past.  Alice understood how frightening the prospects of telling a stranger your deepest, darkest, hidden secrets were, and how intimidating confessing to the past that can be, Alice had been in those shoes when she first faced her counsellor years ago.

Even though Alice was truly wanted Monica to seek help, she believed firmly that everyone should choose what they feel they need for themselves.

That is why this journey to ‘upset the apple cart’ had distressed Alice.

Once again, little Sophia needed to do what someone in authority decided would be the best for her.  Alice would have preferred that the decision to seek help had come from Monica and not from her department; moreover, she worried for Sophia going back into care.

Chapter 13

However, just as her little girl misfortune, she did not stand a chance, as she too had not chosen wisely when her little soul decided to become the child of her mother.

Suddenly, Monica felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

“Oh my god!” she thought.

“I am repeating history, I am becoming my mother”.

“Why on earth did I not see this before?”

With that thought, she ran over to the kitchen sink and threw up, the taste of cider coming up through her nostrils, as she heaved up the remainders of the can into the sink, all over herself and the floor.

She broke down, and sitting on the dirty kitchen floor – Monica wept!

She cried her heart out!

The reality that she had skilfully kept at bay was not longer staying dormant and the truth was pouring out of her ever pore. All that suffering that she had experienced as a child, that very suffering that she was forcing her own daughter to endure.

All that pain came oozing out, as she realised she needed help.

“Someone, anyone, please help me to help myself!” she cried out for a hug.

She laid there for two hours sobbing her heart out, letting go of twenty years of inner pain. Letting go of all the hurtful times she felt abandoned by the father her mother refuse to mention, let alone talk about. She was dismissed if she tried to enquire the where-a-bouts of this mysterious man, this man who had left her in the claws of Satan’s daughter.

She let out all the anger and loneliness that she had ever felt, not only as a child but as a young woman too.

She let it all go!

In complete desolation, she lay on the floor in the foetus position, rocking herself in an attempt to calm her soul, and find some solace within.

“Hush-a-bye baby,

On the tree top,

When the wind blows

The cradle will rock………”

Knock,

Knock, knock!

“Monica, are you home?”Alice shouted through the letter box.

“Crap!” thought Monica as she leap up and tried simultaneously to wash the vomit from her night-rob, face, hair and the floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she muttered under her breath.

“I am coming Alice, hold on a minute” she shouted at the front door, hoping that Alice would not make the short journey around to the back door.

Once Monica had redeemed herself, sufficiently, she made her way to the front door and opened it.  Alice stood in the door way, her compassionate smile and friendly face greeted Monica.

“Everything OK?” she asked.

Monica gestured for her to enter and the moment Alice had stepped inside the door, Monica broke down. Alice suggested they go sit down and then emphatically listened to Monica’s grief.  Monica was able to expel all her painful memories for her witness to hear, and thereafter she felt validated and relieved.

She asked Alice what she needed to do to rectify this tragedy she had created, no longer did she want to bash her head against the wall, nor wake up inside this hell which called itself her life.

Broken, I feel broken, you look broken,

Frustrated, nothing said, words unspoken.

Confusion, devastation, heartbreaking,

Not my life, forgiven, forsaken.

Hollow eyes, hollow soul, hollow look,

Not the person she used to be, I shook.

Shaken, shatter, stir, something’s wrong,

Lost, torn, lost, worn, lost, gone.

Different, changed, such a shame,

Excuses lame, not a life, just a game.

Gob-smacked, speechless,

Smoked smack, outrageous.

Stolen, disappearing, vanished,

Sad, down, hurt, clown, banished.

Unknown, unrecognisable, disguise,

Untruths, fabrication, plain lies.

Bullet proof, no rescue, no saviour,

Distant, anger, fury, bad behaviour.

Wash my hands, walk away, leave, go,

Participation of this destruction, no.

No, today she wanted to do something different, today she wanted to change her destiny.

Alice had a great insight into addiction, and was able to signpost all the different services there were available to Monica. They discussed a day programme, nonetheless, Monica felt that this was not the best option; she thought if she was allowed to come home at night, she could not guarantee her actions.

She feared that if she left alone with these thoughts any longer, she feared for her life.

After much debated and discussion, they both decided that a residential rehabilitation programme would be more suitable, however, the downside to this decision was that Sophia would have to go into care for the twenty weeks that Monica needed to attend the programme.

Monica felt numb, as fresh tears made their way down her bony cheeks.

She knew this was the only way, but this would break her little girl’s heart!

Chapter 12

 

They say, history repeats itself, well her mother Margaret was an alcoholic, and suffered constantly from depression, and painful for Monica, she was emotionally unavailable to Monica.She was about most of the time, somewhere in the house, drinking, entertaining men, sleeping. Those are the memories that Monica will forever hold of her mother, along with her mother’s other personality traits, self-centredness, and sarcastic, dogmatic, and cruel ways.

“There you go again, speaking of your mother in such an immature way!”

“You should respect her, she gave birth to you” the voices again, telling her that this was all her fault.

If she had only been a good girl, then her mother would have loved her.

She blamed herself for her mother’s unhappiness, for her mother’s drinking and depression.  Time and time again her mother had informed her that ‘if she had not been born, then her mother would have been on stage’.

“If it were not for you” became her mother’s mantra all through her childhood, so much so that Monica believed it was all her fault!

Anger inside

Eats me alive

Sweet memories

Childhood bliss

Not my memories

Not in my youth

You told me lies

I asked for truth

Roses are red

Bruises are blue

A slap in the face

For me from you

My low self esteem

This lack of worth

My broken dreams

All screwed up and insecure

Distrusting loveless life

Just as you told me

Still cut like a knife

Roses are red

Violence is blue

A punch in the face

For me from you

The future is bright

Amount to nothing

My destiny is golden

Die with nothing

You gave me life

I asked for nothing

You gave me nothing

I got what I had coming

Roses are red

What can I do?

Sweet memories

Of families blue

Sitting at the kitchen table, she was suddenly transported back to another memory of being a child.  She must have been seven years old, and she saw herself sat with her back against her bedroom door, hoping her fragile, slender body would be able to keep the adults at bay. She recalled her mother’s heckling, that haunted smoky chuckle, which sounded as if it was a merciless howl, exorcized from a witch’s parlour.  She recalls the fear that consumed her, as she floated away into a dreamlike trance until she was upon the ceiling looking down at a little girl, sat silent, in terror. Who was that little girl that she saw sat there, where was her mother, why was she all alone? Why was she crying, where those tears leaving salty tracks down her little innocent face?  As she tried to block out her feelings, while blocking out the noise, the voices of all these adults as they laughed at her.

So sad, so pitiful, so very alone…!

Her mother’s taunts where not the only fearful things she needed to deal with on a regular basis. No, there were the rest of her mother’s many boyfriends, who decided that she was more entertaining and fulfilling than her mother was in every-way. And so they would abuse her while her mother turned a blind eye, as they would fill her mother’s pockets with ‘gold’, they would fill Monica’s life with fear and loathing. The countless times she was forced to do unspeakable things to entertain these men, as they entered her room, and would do as they chose. While her mother lay in a drunken stupor in the next room, snoring as if she were a fat hog that had been drugged and was in a deep sleep. Whenever she hears her mother snore, the sound of her mother gurgling is the noise that to this day still haunts Monica, and causes her to want to vomit blood.

It is no wonder that she grew up to be a whore!

“Ring-a-ring-a-rosy,

A pocket full of posy,

A-tissue, a-tissue,

The walls fall down”.

She remembered how she hid in the darkness of her bedroom every night, and listen to her mother announce at the top of her voice how her daughter was her ‘mothers’ ruin’, as she sipped her gin and tonic. The irony, she wondered if her mother even saw the irony, she doubted it; her mother was not the sharpest pencil in the box, or the brightest star, no, her mother did not shine.

Nonetheless, Monica was extremely clever; she excelled in every subject at school and was always top of the class, yes, Monica was going to be a star!

That was what all the teachers thought.