Colourful Jade

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Mind over unhappy matters

I don’t know when I started this habit of imagining myself as a girl with magical powers that would make people happy. In this special world, I would fly everywhere and use my magic to bring joy to the needy people. I was very much loved by them because of all the marvelous things I did for them.

As I lay in bed, too spent after a crying, I would fill my head with happy thoughts of the good deeds I would do for people. I would imagine how well they thought of me and their love for me meant so much. I always drifted off to sleep before my thoughts concluded.

After the bra episode, I had begun to develop this habit of expecting the worst scenario that would await me at home. I didn’t take things for granted as far as my mother was concerned. So every time before I reached home I would imagine my mother was waiting for me, not with open arms but with hostility. As I was approaching my house, my mind always was filled with trepidation. It was such a relief when nothing happened. Whenever I let down my guard, something would happen. It was as if when I allowed my mind to be idle, I was inviting the one thing I didn’t want.

One day, I was caught by my mother playing hopscotch in the driveway of my tuition teacher’s house instead of going home right after the tuition. My mother was passing by on her way home from the market. It was a split moment when we exchanged glances and I didn’t know my fate was sealed. Since my mother didn’t stop and ask me to follow her home I’d continued with my game.

When I reached home without a nagging thought in my head, my mother greeted me with the cane, striking me on my leg. My mother was angrier than she had ever been because caning alone wasn’t enough to cool the fire in her and she dragged me into the bathroom and pressed my head into the bathtub of water. Before I could struggle, my head was yanked out of the water and then she repeated the act. After the shock of the few seconds, I remember how petrified I was.

My mother left me in the bathroom crying. As I was sitting on the floor of the bathroom, unable to cry anymore, one thought crossed my mind. I got up and filled a container with water and then I stirred in a handful of washing power. I made two attempts to raise the container to my mouth but in the end I poured away the content. Even back then, I knew I didn’t have it in me to commit suicide. I simply wanted to create a scene to act out my pain. Even though it was a one-man show with no audience I felt much better after that.

Being a self-absorbed person at that time, I didn’t know my youngest sister experienced the dunk-in-the-water experience more times than I did. It only happened to me once. But that’s another story for another time.

6 Comments:

  • You definitely have one crazy mom! I don't know how anyone can survive all that.

    By Blogger jujuqtpie, At January 30, 2007 at 7:56:00 PM PST  

  • I know exactly how you felt, coming home not knowing what to expect. Used to feel that a lot too when it came to my parents. Even now and then, it's like a habit I couldn't really get rid of. I too have gone through the suicide for show attempts. In my religion I know it's forbidden, and like you I too don't have it in me to go for it, if i'm being totally honest with myself, religions aside. It's amazing how you can pore out your experience in this blog of yours. I still find it difficult to share with people, mainly becos when I try to it all simply comes out wrong, like I'm tell-taling on my parents, and my stories are too hard for the average person to accept let alone believe.

    By Blogger The Hand That Holds The Quill..., At February 1, 2007 at 6:53:00 PM PST  

  • Hello colourful jade,

    I've been wanting to comment on your blog for sometimes but now only I've the chance (gut) to do so. I too experienced almost the same as u did but the differnt is my mum will do us nothing in front of others. Therefore it's always safe to be in public or outside of the house. But my mum forgets nothing, so juz be prepared when entering the house later. Being my dad's angle, i play safe by waiting outside till he is back which he seldom does... then i'll get whatever it costs me.

    Do you beat ur children? If you don't, tell me do u handle them...

    By Blogger Unknown, At February 6, 2007 at 7:13:00 AM PST  

  • hi ju, i did survive and benefit from my unhappy experiences to be a better person. hopefully, this blog will help people to realize that we needn't have to repeat our parents' mistakes. having gone through a painful period we wouldn't wanna inflict pain on people we love. kids do have feelings. if they are made to feel worthless they will go through life feeling exactly that.

    By Blogger Colourful Jade, At February 8, 2007 at 3:51:00 AM PST  

  • Hie Flowerinthedesert, to be honest with you I wouldn’t have the gut to tell my friends and my in-laws the tales of my upbringing. The beauty of being a blogger is that I can be anonymous. Sometimes I do wonder if any of my siblings will come across my blog and if they do, do they see the similarity of the parents and wonder about identity of the blogger?
    My youngest sister says until now she still has nightmares of my mother attacking her. The recent one was that she woke up in her dark room, on the floor feeling disoriented with the image of our mother attacking her so fresh on her mind. When she called out, she woke up her husband who turned on the light and carried her back to the bed. He hugged the pain out of her. Don’t think about it, he advised her. Tell that to a victim of abuse.
    Even though my sisters and I had gone through some unhappy episodes together but there were some individual experiences that we went through alone. I was very surprised by some of the personal stories my youngest sister told me. I had no idea that she went through them without my awareness.
    There were a few incidents that happened to me that I felt they should remain a secret. I was too ashamed to share them with my sisters.
    My sisters have always been more open about their experiences. When they talked about our mother, my brothers would cringe when the talk was in the presence of their spouses. My sisters feel they owe my mother no loyalty as she has never endeared herself to her children’s spouses.
    One time when I was in Form 4, I prepared my own lunch box and when I shared it with my good friend I told her it was prepared by my mother who had never ever bothered to prepare breakfast for anyone. I must have been a good pretender because nobody had ever suspected that my own mother scared the living daylight out of me.
    I can understand why you’ve found it hard to talk about your experiences. When I was young it was the shame that held me back. It would have been a bad reflection on me to tell people that my own mother turned violent on me. When I was a kid I didn’t see it as something wrong with my mother but I knew for sure I didn’t deserve the kind of treatment from her.

    By Blogger Colourful Jade, At February 8, 2007 at 3:56:00 AM PST  

  • Hie Jaylina, I’d rather have my mother did the unthinkable and unspeakable deeds behind closed door. You are fortunate because your mother had spared you the humiliation, the kind that strips off one’s pride. When one has no pride it doesn’t do well for one’s self-esteem.

    My mother was a hellion when she was mad. She had no self-control whatsoever. My siblings and I were just her punching bag whenever she lost her cool, not so much over our naughtiness. We were simply handy for her to vent her frustrations. Angry with her emotionally uninvolved husband, pow…pow… lost money in gambling, pow…pow… Do you get the drift?

    Through it all, my siblings and I have made a startling discovery that our parents are selfish people, very self-serving but in my father’s case he was more refined, more remote. My mother is more self-deluded, she believes she does no wrong and life hasn’t been fair with her. Hence, she is one very unhappy woman.

    Again you are very fortunate because you knew you were your father’s angel. On the rare occasions when we shared the dining table with our father, it was so quiet we could hear a pin drop. We poor children were stuck between two extremes. It is a marvel we have turned out reasonably sane.

    Our friends who didn’t see the ugly side of our mother would see her as a youthful, well-dressed woman. Her guests would see her as a generous hostess who served a lot of food. Those who had seen her ugly side were very less impressed. Her in-laws weren’t overly fond of her. She has a jealous streak too. I must say she is a very contradicting person in the sense she cares about ‘losing face’ but inevitably she is responsible for her ‘loss of face’.

    I’ve just analyzed my mother and it is a good thing to analyze because if you take time to do so you will know how a person ticks. In my mother’s case I have to accept her for what she is as I have no choice and even to forgive her for her transgressions. However, forgiveness doesn’t erase all the hurts and pains. I can’t love her whether I want to or not I just can’t but I can be good to her.

    I analyzed all my suitors and ended up marrying my husband. Right from the start he has been loving and considerate. I was practical too as I didn’t look at love through rosy glasses. Maybe I wouldn’t have been a good mother if my marriage were an unhappy one. One thing for sure I definitely haven’t had the making of my mother. During the courtship my husband–to-be remarked that I was a loving person. When I had kids of my own, I was the hands-on mum and I loved to kiss and hug them a lot.

    I would be lying if I said I didn’t smack my kids. It must be a very serious crime to get a smacking from me. One time I totally lost my cool with my elder son. He was eight years old at that time. He asked his dad for money to buy books and he lost it. Then he asked me for the money without telling the truth. When I mentioned to my husband in passing we found out he took money from both of us. I sat down with him and asked whether he had anything to tell me and dropped him clues to where I was leading to. When he messed up his chance to come clean I smacked him. While I was smacking him I emphasized my smack and told him it would be his painful reminder so as not to lie or con again. After I ignored him for more than an hour I called him out and explained my reason for smacking him. I told him it hurt me very much to inflict pain on him but I must do it in order to make him a better person. I asked him whether he wanted me to be the couldn’t-care-less mum or the mum who had just given him tough love. I had to explain the meaning of tough love. He chose the latter and we hugged, kissed and made up. Later I told my husband to have a father-to-son talk but no punishment. I think a child needs to know who has the upper hand. Most importantly, the child has to know he/she is loved, come what may. No favoritism please. Love begets love.

    By Blogger Colourful Jade, At February 8, 2007 at 3:57:00 AM PST  

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