I was young. Very young. Young enough that I was either an only child or my middle sister was somewhere else. I don't remember much. I was standing in something, either a crib or a playpen and crying because I'd thrown my doll over the rail and I couldn't get to it. My mother walked into my field of view and starts yelling and screaming at me. (My adult mind superimposes "Shut up, be quiet, why can't you just be quiet and leave me alone.") Confused, because all I wanted was my doll, and afraid, I cried more. She grabs the doll roughly, throws it into where I was, and walks away.
I have never remembered this before. I am so young in my memory (a toddler), I'm half inclined to believe I made it up. It seems like something that would happen, though. I have no one to ask whether it happened. I don't dare ask my mother.
The memory is fleeting. It's mostly emotion. Fear. Confusion. Shame. A feeling that is was my fault Mom was so angry, because I wanted my doll (Blame.) I felt the wave of emotion before the memory hit. I saw the nightgown I was wearing and felt the itchiness before the rest of it came back. Mostly fear and confusion.
I don't like those emotions.
I wonder if this was why I started fearing her leaving me and abandoning us. I wonder if this was the beginning. I wonder if this was the beginning of tiptoeing around Mom.
I just know I need to feel and examine this confusion and fear, and extract it from the blame and shame.
I have to ask myself what does it matter when it all started. It's part of my story, but a small part now. I understand my motives so much more these days. Most of my life it was fear of rejection and abandonment that drove me to accept unacceptable behavior. I don't have that intense fear anymore. I know that I have moved firmly into recovery.
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