Abuse or Misuse? (Photo credit: elPadawan)
To witness an assault, to have been near the sight of an attack and to be called upon to state what the facts, as seen fit, are, is everyone’s responsibility.
Not only had UNH seen my assault. My mother had borne witness to the carnage after. The authorities told to promise that solemn oath of homophobia,
Don’t ask, Don’t tell!
Not only had the cobblestoned sacred halls, the soiled by frat hazing of parties past, the studious studios of a not so fine Fine Art’s Building and the Rent-A-Cops been my downfall. It had seen many eyewitness attacks before, during and after my miscues. I
had encountered others who had hidden in the recesses of alcoholism and sordid sexual triumphs. We glanced at each other without the acknowledgement of having ‘been there done that.’
My mother did not stop me from crying foul. After all she was and is predisposed to teaching at said college and we all need a steady paycheck. We all need to save face in the faculty lounge.
Is it true that, “I need to find myself first…before I can be with anyone.”
Or better still, “My mood swings are all over the place…it’s hard for anyone to stay with me very long.”
Yes, indeed.
The pills, the cutting and the subservient child behavior are all on the checklist of How to be a Good Daughter or Die Trying.
One time, not too long ago, Mum decided that I needed to be taught a lesson. I had always left Dead Grandpa Edward’s Now Passed on to Ambien Grace, Chevy Malibu unlocked. Always, always, always. Why not? I have no real bills to pay and the Privileged of Auburn Street wouldn’t rip anyone off. At least, not blue collar robbery.
I had just cashed my check from Ma and Pa Kennels. Two Hundred dollars had been tossed aside in the backseat like an old McDonald’s to-go bag. I had not known poverty and obviously am unaware of the plights of anyone who would die for that kind of cash.
While in my usual comatose slumber, hopped up on Trazodone and Melatonin, blackened out to the world outside my attic window; Mother Theresa takes the money!
Can you believe that shit? What lesson had I learned? What pearl of wisdom had I derived from not attesting and encouraging other to come out of the closets about their assaults? How had I in my visionless way contributed to ‘ignorance is blind to those who chose not to see?’
