Growing up it it was not uncommon to hear my mother refer to me as "crazy, psycho, lil' bitch, liar" and so on. I can remember specifically a time when I was in my feetie fuzzy pajamas lying on our maroon living room carpet in front of the television. Both my parents were seated on the couch behind my sister, brother and myself. We were all watching a program on television about animals that were being slaughtered. My tiny heart was bursting open for these defenseless baby seals, but I felt too intimidated to show my emotions, so I kept them in.
"Lisa is such a cold fish. She is so hard. Look at her. She hasn't shed a tear. Oh my God, what a cold fish she really is", my mother said as I tried to survive her emotional surprise assault on my little nine year old soul. I felt completely confused by what I was feeling. I had been conditioned to believe that showing emotions in our home was not acceptable, and yet I was being mocked for not showing emotion.
I am forty six now and my body still has tears to shed over what happened so long ago. My mother could never have known how traumatizing her comments were. To feel rejected by ones own mother is like being aware you have been dying since the day you were born. Life is sort of like a ride on a long rolling razor blade. You're on it, but you don't know why. You want off the ride, but there is no other ride around. This crazy pain is all you know.