Boundaries


My brother sleeps in the spare bedroom.  My husband and I relax in the living room; he plays with his computer while I write.  Last night, I had epiphanies, one after another once mom triggered me.

My dog bit at her-leaving no mark or blood-and she threw it across the room where it landed on the couch.

“You’re lucky that I didn’t throw it all the way across the room,” She spat.  She walked across the room and stood in front of the window.  As she held her hand up to the sunlight, she glared at the weathered swollen hand.  Then she fixed her gaze on me.  I started laughing and couldn’t stop.  Life was so stressful and unsafe that I could not stop my wild laughter.

I stopped as she came closer to my chair.  She stood behind me as I sat at my dining room table, turning the Starbucks cup around and around in my hands.

“She is lucky I don’t beat her.”I could feel her on me, each breath a sharp exhale as she rages. I felt my body go stiff, and instinctively I glance around the living room for my seven pound Yorkie, Libby.  She is hiding.

My body goes into sensory overload; each hair on my neck stands up as I recall the terror of her fits of anger and violence.  The grown thirty-five year old woman assures the little girl that those times are gone.

It is 2014.  I plan to have a year free of fear and full of life, light, and love.  No longer will I cower from her and block out not only her, but the world.  Boundaries will be set…

 

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