To Forgive and To Forget… Well I can’t?

A mother and child.

I have been working on my Spirituality for ten years.   Listening, practicing, every day.  To have a manifested ‘good feeling day’, of everything I keep in my inside draw, that is filled with wonderful memories of everyone. You see, I compartmentalize a chest of draws in my head and put special moments in my life, that were so real, it brings me to that very moment.  Yes, that is my very good draw.  Some of the other draws are not that great.  I try to never open them, but somehow they manage to screw with my good manifestation draw.  I work so hard, to keep all good things and make the bad things take a back seat, for them not to get out of that damn locked drawer.

I meditate every morning, to start with goodness in my soul.   I do morning affirmations, to keep myself aligned and on a good path, and somehow, there are always stop signs and red lights on my road.  Usually, from that dark draw, I try to leave in the past.

I had a daughter, once that was my best friend, we more or less grew up together, sharing our secrets, laughs, and sadness.  Maybe she wanted more of a mother, but maybe at the age of 22, I didn’t know how to be, but knew how to love the best I could and know she wouldn’t go without, as much as I can do, and for all that she needed, that I can see.

Her dad was nowhere to be found, headed south when she was six months old.   Back then I was a minority.  Today, single mothers are the majority.  It made me feel like an outcast, but I didn’t care, I had a daughter that never gave me a problem, so ladies don’t spit up in the air.

So many bad instances happened to both of us in a two-year span.  He losing her father, always at war within himself.  Although they were not so close, she took it hard.  I lost friends one after another, forgetting myself and making me wonder, there is a life out there, my ultimate dreams, I am going to for fill, before I am too old and can’t enjoy them as I can now.  My daughter was 26 years of age and didn’t want to head south with me, so I set her up, sold my house, and continued a life for me.

As time went on, we still were close, telephone call every day visits one another every way.

I got married, she found the love of her life.  I am thinking she is busy with him, and my phone calls got replaced.  I was happy she had someone in her life and made her own little world.  I figured it was time at 28 she was no longer a little girl.

As time grew on, she is together with this man; she got more distant from me, with the phone calls and the visits, me visiting her, and they visiting us down south.

Five years later she got married,  I wasn’t part of the planning of her special day.  Other people filled my spot, I find out, the most meaningful things for a wedding a mother shared I was totally not part of that.  There wasn’t one picture of her and I was taken, nor time spent with me.  She was just being a bride of pride with her new life ahead of her, forgetting the single parent, that was raised by me. Maybe it wasn’t good enough for her.

After spending 10 years in Florida, she has a baby, Chloe, the best thing that happened in my life.  I went back up north to help, raising her while they worked for the first year of her life.  She was my child, my very heart, the piece that no longer filled a void wasn’t there, it was filled with her and her loving heart.  So, pure so innocent, myself older now, could appreciate and understand life, and enjoy her, looking through life through her eyes, was my solace of disrupted days, of feeling uncomfortable living with them in so many ways.

After the year was up, I moved back South, no longer needed, and yet so very hard. My grand-daughter was theirs, I took it very hard.

I was pursued by my daughter, then, to sell my place and move back and live with them, then I would have best of both world, me not having to struggle and seeing my Chloe every day.

I sold my place, and thought it was only fair, to give them the proceeds of my home I sold for a down payment I the house we were all to live in the next few months.

Graciously, they thanked me and deposited my check. Without me knowing they signed a one-year lease of an apartment, that I had a room to live, without one window, it is an up north factory, turned into a glorified apartment.

After being so dismayed, they expected me to pay them rent.

Who are these people, so Stepford, and stoic with feelings?  I asked for my money back so I could be on my way it was already gone, and spent on their debt, that they had to pay.   Infuriated, I was more than upset, but they treated me like I was the one, that took their money, life savings, without any regret.

They tried to evict me and prove me financially unfit, called me names like psychotic, stopped having family dinners with them from their complaint.

It’s been three years later, not a penny paid back.  They think they have an upper hand in my life, but wait, I will be paying them back.  They took money from a disabled person, needless to say for their own purpose, without my intent of knowing, grand larceny fits in, and emotional abuse, by calling me financial inept, psychotic to neighbors, that is why I had to live with them.

Just as I write this for the world to see, I have no skeletons in my closet, that I need to hide for anyone to seek.  They are both in finance and make 6 digits each, is this a punishment for what I don’t know I did, or just a disturbed relationship of disorders, that backhanded me with slander, for all I did.

They will both be incarcerated, she is not my daughter any longer, the day she said I wasn’t a real mother.  To try to kick me out and put me in a place I wouldn’t have a dog live.

I reside in my own apartment on a quiet island in Southport.  Away from them, and all the tiresome worry of the dark draw coming back.  They say to forget and to forgive for they do not know any better.  I guess it’s a  Rhode Island thing, my anxiety has turned to outrage pleasure.   Forgive, never, forget, I only wish.

What does one do, to see the only thing that matters in life to her, and she stands behind these two?  All of 3 feet tall, the one that I had the first year of her life and raised.   She calls me Mima, said she loved me and wanted me to stay.  She will know one day what has been done. If she doesn’t choose to be with me, then all will be done.

This is why I AM the Bitchen Phoenix






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