On The Homefront

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other. - Mother Teresa

Life at home was not going well. My younger brother had chosen a life of drugs and was spiraling out of control. Those who have a drug addict in the family know all too well the bomb that blows up the family structure. My father was drinking as well, though he had it together for work and church. He was a mean drunk. Some of my friends knew some of the story but it was unwise to reveal too much. Any weakness was perceived as ungodliness and an excuse to be shunned. And I needed my friends more than ever.

My relationship with my mother went south at this time. She was angry with me and aloof for reasons unknown to me. I was the one child who seemed to be doing everything right. I did well in school, stayed out of trouble, and participated happily in church functions. I didn't sass my parents, rebel, and honestly wanted to be a good person and Christian. I truly wanted a good relationship with my mom, to confide in her, and have her support. Many of my friends went to lunch and shopping with their moms and talked until late in the night. I wanted a relationship like that and it hurt to be rejected. Years later I realized that she was jealous of me. You see, everywhere we went I managed to fit in, find nice people, and make friends. I like people and am very interested in them. Things were to change later on, but for now, I was quite happy with my life.  Outside home that is.

I dreaded being at home during this time. To say it was not a happy place is a gross understatement. I had to endure merciless verbal assaults for no conceivable reason. I was told I was bad, going to Hell, and that I was "weak". No infractions were cited, it was more of a constant raising of the bar. I was a laid back person and these attacks freaked me out.

My antidote to that poison was to stay active. I joined the choir and miraculously, was picked for a small singing group. My weeks were booked. I had practice after school for whatever sport I could join. Volleyball was my favorite. Then on Monday nights I had small group choir practice, Wednesday night Bible Study, Thursday night regular choir practice, Friday night out with friends and my older brother, and Sunday spent all day at church.

My mother was livid and wanted to curtail my activities but at the same time considered me the jewel in her crown of perfect Christian family. She smiled if someone praised me but I was in for it later at home. It was devastating to know that she really wanted to hurt me. Envy is a scary thing. Psychology was considered a humanistic approach to problems so it was off limits. I remained completely baffled at why this woman seemed to actually hate me. The church I loved and enjoyed now became a sort of refuge. My mom could not touch me as long as I stayed involved.

I could endure this until college.