Читать книгу Nasty people - Shelley A Dewar - Страница 11

My Mum was twenty-two at the time she gave birth to me.

Her height was around 160cm with dark shoulder length hair, an attractive innocent face with brown greenish eyes. My Mum has aged gracefully and is very vibrant for her age. This is due to her younger outlook on life more than most women her age and doesn’t live in the dark ages at all. She understands people a little better in today’s society and to be honest, I used to feel she didn’t really understand me at times but it’s different now.

My relationship with my mother is a very close and respectful one being more like friends than mother and daughter and I think this is very important. Of course we have had our ups and downs like most relationships, but we eventually get over them. One thing I used to get my back up about was, she has been somewhat pessimistic toward my dreams and ambitions in the past. I feel this is possibly because she didn’t have the confidence to do it herself.

For instance, if I had a good idea or wanted to participate in something, the comment would be, “Oh yeah, or you can’t do that.” She was virtually saying I wasn’t good enough to do the things I thought I would be good at. From my view back then, I felt like I never had the support I needed from her just the negativity and pessimism.

I had to overlook these thoughts from her because I knew and still know now what I am capable of. She now realises this too because I have put my thoughts into action many times even though some have failed, I still keep trying. Her attitude and perspective has change toward me and now has a lot more faith in me, which reflects.

My Mum has been married three times and has had two long term shitty relationships: her first marriage being to my Father. They were high school sweethearts since the age of fifteen and married at the age of eighteen and nineteen. It was the usual type of marriage I suppose, with my father going to work and my mother staying home to maintain the household duties as a wife and mother did back in those days. However, things changed when I was around four when we had to move north so my father could work. Everything seemed fine at first: the normal family scene until my mother found out my father was having an affair with another woman. Even though we kids didn’t really understand, we knew something wasn’t right because our mum was always sad. The next thing we knew was we were leaving and going back to Perth but my father was not coming with us; he was staying with this woman. This was not an easy decision for my Mum because it meant, without him, she was virtually on her own with three kids to raise. They divorced nine years later.

She then had a relationship with a man named George, ( Lofty) a very tall handsome looking man I suppose. He and Mum had a child together which I will tell you about a bit further on. I don’t remember everything about this relationship but the things I do remember was, I did have a fair bit of time for this man in a lot of ways but not in others. I remember he would take us places and was a pretty generous man at times. He could be very funny too and made mum and us kids laugh but he also had this lunatic side and would mistreat her whenever he got drunk.

For instance, one night my Mum and George were visiting my Aunt and Uncle when all hell broke loose. They had all been drinking except for my uncle who didn’t drink when an argument began with George and my Aunt and because he was now drunk, he lost his temper and began to beat her. My uncle then intervened to try and stop him but he was no match for George so then he copped it too and he was also beaten to a pulp. They ended up okay physically but emotionally they were scarred for life.

Another incident occurred when I was around seven. I was outside with George while he was gardening and I was lying under the swing humming a tune, in a world of my own. Obviously this annoyed him because he told me to stop. I did for a minute or two but I loved to sing and without realizing it, I started again and he once again told me to stop and if I didn’t this time he was going to smack me. I did but another couple of minutes went by but because I was so bored watching him pick weeds, off I went again. I couldn’t help it, it just came naturally to me to sing or hum a tune but maybe I shouldn’t have been around him when I was doing this. He then stared at me like he wanted to kill me and said to me in a nasty voice, “I thought I told you to stop.” This time though, I said, “No, I don’t want to because I like to sing.” Wrong! This made him even more agitated and caused him to lose his temper with me. He then grabbed me and turned me on my stomach whilst holding me down and proceeded to belt my arse. I couldn’t do anything but yell and scream and when he let me up, all I could do was cry. He then felt bad and told me he was sorry but next time do as you’re told. I did after that!

After many more violent incidents, mum realised he was nothing but a mongrel and as she couldn't stand it any longer, she had no choice but to end this relationship.