I write about her with blunt honesty. I don’t write about her to hurt her, I describe her matter of factly, since that’s the only way to write about someone. She lived her part and there’s just no way around it, she failed me on every single level.
She had a beautiful beginning, a story that could have become one of overcoming feeling loveless as a child, and I say this because I came from the same background and rose above all of it. She wasn’t abused as I was, but she was definitely unhappy as a young person. Her idyllic childhood filled with horses, a father who loved her, and shiny new cars during the 50’s and 60’s had her feeling less than, somehow due to her mothers uncaring nature. Sound familiar? The parallels of our lives have us growing up fairly similar if you remove my childhood abuses from her world.
She could have been my protector, but she stepped aside, as I was hurt by my father. She could have been my advocate, but she simply became mute, as my father pitted my brother against me, behind my back. She could have been my defender, when my father belittled me as I grew from a chubby baby cherub into a string bean. She could have listened to me, as I dove inward during our ugly family dynamic, but instead she only made sure that I listened to her struggles within our home. She could have fought back against her husband who was destroying my self worth, but she disappeared within her bedroom. She had the power to help me all along and yet, she never did so. I encouraged her, listened to her, and ignorantly supported her as we lived in that home and yet, when it came down to it, she abandoned me and chose our abuser over me and my children. She weakly vanished without a word one summer and never looked back. She allowed family members deaths to go unreported to me, because when you see her as I do, she is a coward. She can’t do the hard work needed to take accountability for her role in my childhood abuse. She was a silent participating partner, but wants me to forget about the past (Her fb bio is infuriating, because does she forget her own loveless childhood? No, she doesn’t, but I don’t get that same rule. I have to forget about mine in order to have her in my life.)
I grew up and found love or I should say, love found me in the form of Tom Mosley. I filled myself with his overflowing positivity. He described me as the perfect girl and that changed my psyche. He said that he loved me and I became someone who no longer felt unlovable. I demanded perfection of myself as I endured chaos in the Norris house. I created my own bubble of safety within my bedroom. I managed a life on my own as I lived with all of them. I maintained a nearly straight A status in school, because I refused to be anything less than the perfect person inside and out. My unfeeling nature shifted as I was around Tom, due to learning that feelings could be good ones, and not just loneliness and sadness.
She could have had overflowing love from me and yet, she never would have reciprocated it, due to her loveless nature. I overcame the loveless girl they created and she never overcame much of anything, due to continuing her narcissistic ways.
Wah Wah boo hoo we’re her very last words to me when I told her she made me feel so unloved. She did that. She is a narcissist. She does not care how she hurts me.
