CHAPTER SIX

There were many instances after that but I don't think it would be wise to put such things on the net. It all revolved around my mother and her behavior but as of now I don't think writing about the behaviors of an alcoholic is good use of my time. What I would like to write for the world to read is how I chose to deal with it and how it is affecting me now. Before I graduated standard five things with my parents were on rocky ground, because they handled us in their own special way. All they knew was to use 'strong arm' and death stares, never stern talks or just asking questions, so I had taken to avoiding my mother at all cost and just down right pretending the egg that produced me was fertilized with magic. Yes we lived in the same house, my mother and I but for three years our conversations consisted of short and sweet phrases such as (1) Good morning greetings, (2) Where is your brother questions and (3) Go down the road and get this demands....
I was okay with it because that was all I knew therefore I never demanded anything other. In February 2005, I came to terms with the fact that my mother hated me, she ignored me for years unless it was to ridicule or shame, forgot everything school wise I had to attend and used me for her personal punching bag when her stress levels were 'too high'. Her cruelty knew no bounds when it came to being around her family though, it was like they brought out the demon in her, it reared its ugly head two days before my S.E.A Exams. She knew I was working really hard on my mathematics because that was my challenge subject, everything else I had good enough marks in but I always lost my cookies when I got asked to add or subtract something. I went full recluse, studying hours in the day just to get those formulas right because I had my eye on a specific prize.
There was always one thing I admired about my mother, her ability to flourish in her learning even though she had seven siblings to take care of when she was younger, handle the demands of a school such as Cowen Hamilton Secondary School and deal with her own mother.

Back in her time as a budding teenager attending such a school, a child's education was not hanging on the prospect of a person getting a salary they think they deserve for lack luster work on their part. When teachers stepped into the school they commanded respect and made you eat knowledge like cereal in the classroom, the things taught today compared to what was taught then pales in comparison and she was able to receive it all while giving her all at home. I attended her reunion year before against my will and the stories I was told about my mother were a little shocking and believable. She played netball for her school, had impressive grades and was a trouble maker. I can't say I took after her because lets be real, I got banned from playing any sport, my grades were looking for me to put in some effort and a was shit-starter of the highest order. So I wanted to see what she saw when she was growing up, in some way I wanted to have something in common with her, so I made getting into Cowen Hamilton my goal to achieve, but in order to have that I had to fix my math problem. Like I said, two days before my exam she came to me and surprised the fuck out of me by offering to let me go live by my father if I got high grades. I didn't ask any questions, the 'yes' just slid out my mouth, I didn't care that I barely knew the man and basically forgot what my brother's looked like, just the mere thought of crossing that Princes Town boundary and going somewhere, anywhere else made me feel like there was hope after all, I didn't have to settle. That deal just made me work even harder, so color me confused when she brought her sisters and rum buddies over and started a party in our yard that lasted the entire last day of studying before my exam that lasted well into the next morning.
For the life of me I can't forget that night, sitting in the living room just staring at the walls with my pencil in my hand on the verge of tears, trying to block out the music, trying to block out the fact that I was hungry, trying desperately to understand why the fuck I BELIEVED she could be my mother for just one day. That night sealed it for me really, she broke something in me that to this day I can't seem to fix, the need to trust someone. It seems far fetched to others who have had a normal childhood with people who know the meaning of "parent" and the meaning of "child" that this could affect my need to trust someone. But what you don't know is that she had no intention of letting me go, it was her sick way of making herself feel better, build me up to watch me fall. I asked her about it the day I got my results and brought it to her, I was so giddy from seeing my marks on that maths exam I think it just made it more sweeter for her to watch me breakdown when she basically called me a liar in front of everyone for saying she told me she would let me go live in town. And that was when I felt it again, that sweet numbness that usually came after anger, that usually got me in trouble, that last appeared that day my father walked away.
Activity after that was a blur, the main things that happened really was that I got placed in a school I didn't even know existed, graduation was a terror, my August holiday consisted of me eating things to feel better and blowing up like a whale and dreading my first day as fresh meat in my new school Barrackpore West Secondary.