Everyone Knew

My mother, a tempest in a teacup

A force to be reckoned with, so abrupt

Stories of her anger and rage

Yanking me out of the pool, a violent stage

Her fury knows no bounds

Constantly screaming, a deafening sound

No one ever stepped in to help

Leaving me to fend for myself

But through it all, I remain strong

Resilient in the face of her wrong

I will not be defined by her wrath

For I am more than just her aftermath

I’ll rise above, break free from her chains

And create a life that’s free from stains

My mother’s stories may alarm

But they won’t be my lasting harm

I’ll carve my own path, find peace and grace

And leave behind her tumultuous embrace

For I am more than just her daughter

I am a survivor, a fighter, a force of water

I used to be so mad at my family and wonder why no one stepped in to help me. After working hard to save 4 children from two different families, I found that it rarely makes a difference to step in. I've been in positions of not reporting something (before I was a mandated reported) simply because I knew the system would fail these children, and they would lose me, their only safe haven, however big or little. Two of the children from one family have been placed back in their abusive homes, despite the evidence, sexual, physical, and emotional abuse. Those kids have lost me, naturally, as the family will no longer speak to me for, "Hurting their family." I cry for those kids every night. They are going through worse trauma than I did, and I know what that does to a person, first hand. Now I realize, that the unnecessary stress that's added to a person's life, when the system fails these children over and over, is simply not worth it. It's better to be a safe haven for the children than for the children to never have you again.

This poem talks about me being yanked out of a pool by my mother. In a past poem, I spoke about being molested by my babysitters son and losing my front teeth at their house because he threw a rock in my face when I said I was going to tell my mommy. My mother's uncle was a dentist and provided be with new front teeth (bonded and still bonded today because I still can't afford permanent teeth. When they fall out, I'll look like a meth addict) at a very discounted rate. She was late on payments and he was at this pool party. I was swimming in the pool minding my own business and they were arguing. My mother yanked me out of the pool and literally drug me to the car while I'm crying and screaming, "What did I do. You're hurting me mommy." She told me to, "Shut up and get in the fucking car." This is one story my grandparents have told me.

I've heard many stories from family and friends. Stories of deceit, drama, and how no one really liked us, nor did they want to be around us because there was always some sort of drama. I've heard that neighbors used to tell my grandparents how my mother was always screaming at me, calling me names, and constantly heard slapping sounds then (Name Removed) crying and her mother telling her to, "Shut the fuck up."

The power of manipulation from a narcissist is strong. It has to be, because when I hear these stories, I still cannot figure out why everyone believed everything my mother said all these years. Why I was the scapegoat for everyone's bull shit. People treat you how your parents treat you, how you treat yourself. That's all I can think of here. It took every breakdown, a suicide attempt, and complete life turmoil for everyone to see they were wrong. No apologies, really, but they know.

#Abuse

#CPS

#BrokenSystems

#Breakdown

#MariahCarey