not big at all

my mother shook me awake. "time to go" i saw her mouth say. i shook my head and buried it under the covers. safe.

she pulled the blankets back and dragged me out of bed. i was four, not big at all. my heart beat faster as i realized it was monday, time to go. my breath came ragged out of my chest and i thought

if i stand still, she won't see me.

down the street we went, our breath coming out white in the cold november morning. a hurried, harried woman and her unwilling, unwitting child. she knocked at the door sharply, three times.

the door opened and there she stood. gigantic. enormous. frizzed hair the color of dried blood and a patterned housedress wrapped tightly around her frame. she slowly smiled and ushered us in.

my mother told me to be good. she kissed me on the cheek and started to leave. i clung to her in silent terror, but her eyes latched onto me like slimy brown leeches, sucking out all the fight. i let go and feebly waved goodbye to my mother. she never looked back.

the door closed with a slam and the children came out, a boy and a girl. they taunted me, teased me. pulled my hair and slapped me.  i need to go to the bathroom, i said, eyes downcast. she said no.

the girl wanted to watch sesame street, so she put it on. i was not allowed to sit on the furniture, the floor was where i was told i belonged. the girl whined that i was in the way and without a word her mother grabbed me by my long blond ponytail, wrapped it around her hamlike fist three times and dragged me out of the way. so her daughter could see. i knew better than to cry.

lunchtime. for me, 4 saltines smeared with peanut butter and a glass of water. everyday the same. i swallowed a cracker and squeezed my legs together even more tightly. it was no use. giving up, I felt my underpants and dress grow wet with pee.

if i don't look at her, she won't see.

her face reddened with rage. she grabbed me by my hair and dragged me out of my seat. she pushed me down onto the slatted metal heat register. you're gonna sit there til your panties dry out, hear? she screamed at me.

the heat came on. after a minute or so, i began to grow uncomfortable. five minutes went by and my bottom was screaming at me.

you see, when heat and moisture combine with urine, a burn results. it was very painful and i was just four. not big at all.

i slowly and gingerly lifted my bottom off of the burning-hot vent, willing to risk her wrath for even a moment of relief.

and there was wrath.

she slapped my face and pushed me back down onto the vent. the oh-so-hot vent. now i was sobbing, i was past caring about the fact that it made her angry, crying was all i could do.

later, when my mother picked me up and we were walking home, she asked me how was your day? did you have fun playing with susan and tom-boy? i told her i did, because i had been warned by her never to tell. ever.

but i have always wondered, to this day...how can you not notice that your child smells of urine? how can you not see that she winces every time she sits down? when you bathe your daughter, how can you not see the 8 welts on her bottom, all in the shape of stripes?

i stood still and nobody saw me.

a girl in trouble is a temporary thing

i'm feeling supremely happy right now. i have another blog, a funny one. you may already follow it. but everybody knows me there. this is my place to bitch, vent, swear, snark, tell my deepest, darkest secrets and live judgement free. nobody knows me here, and that's what i need.

because i have a lot of shit.

here's something i could never do on my other blog.

fuck fuck fuckety-fuck.

that felt soooooo fucking good.

you don't even know.

so for now, i'm going to leave you with a song, it's a favorite of mine. it pretty much describes me.

we all go through shit. every. single. one. of. us.

what are you going to do with your shit?