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To my mother, I was considered dangerous, troublesome, and problematic.
Yes, I waved hello to every person in public I saw while tagging along with my mother on her errands when I was a toddler. However, I never strayed from her presence. I recall feeling dread when I lose sight of her. The assumption my mother had that I would wander away from her was very confusing – why would I risk my life recklessly?
It was obvious to me she couldn't care less about my well-being. She would introduce me to people I barely knew and demanded that I kiss them. But when I went to greet people on my own, whom I recognize, to give them a kiss, she would yell at me, violently shaking my body like a ragdoll, and then cursing the name of my father's mother.
The constant belligerent nagging and violent beatings during my formative years to adolescent years stood uncontested while I struggled to still hold a piece of what was left of my sanity.
My life was forever changed when she allowed a pedophile to our bedroom. I begged my mother to listen. I had no choice but to steal the master key to my bedroom from her bedroom dresser. I shared my bedroom with my sisters.
My mother violated our privacy before. Why would she listen to me a second time? Sure enough, the pedophile visited my bedroom only to discover it was locked. I insisted my sisters not to unlock the door. I threw the key up at the top of the cupboard. The next morning, my mother was violently banging on my bedroom door. I scrambled up to the cupboard to grab the key. My mother clobbered my face the moment I unlocked the door. The housekeeper was frantically getting my mother's attention before my mother decided to punish me severely. The pedophile, whom she called her dear friend, stole her newly purchased car, and her car title. When she finally learned her friend was a wanted criminal for kidnapping children, she thanked God.
No apologies or remorse for the consequences of her actions. Yes, I was grateful that God was beside me and guiding me what to do. The level of discernment to listen to God was not something I figured out on my own.
My mother indoctrinated me when I was 7 years old. Every Bible verse she quoted was either taken out of context or misinterpreted. Every word she uttered from the Bible didn’t sit well with me. It bothered me for a very long time.
In 1995, I attempted suicide. God intervened by sending a messenger. He made me realize that the God my mother worshipped was not the God of Abraham. I decided on my own to commit my life to Christ, the Messiah, whom they called, "Jesus."
I vowed to take my journey to a renewed faith with God's wisdom and following Jesus' footsteps.
My parents were livid for betraying the family. I did bo such thing. Since then my mother condemned me for being a heathen. She told everyone at her church how an obstinate and ungrateful child I was.
I was beaten violently to the point of exasperation and frustration. She had the audacity to ask me why I stopped being her sunflower?
She left me in the quicksand. She called me all kinds of insulting names. She allowed her anger to manifest into a cultural tradition that no Filipino would consider nurturing.
I had to learn from others what it means to be a woman of virtue. It was from the kindness of strangers where I learned to be a wholesome individual. My resolute stance as an evolved introvert is not my resolved state of mind.
When we emigrated to the U.S., I asked God if I should quit and break my vow. I was quickly reminded with a big warm hug from a Youth Leader, God never wavers – neither should I.
God led me to a place I saw in my dreams years before I knew what it was called. I enlisted in the Air Force. For the 2nd time since 1995, I was free again.
My unit supervisor advised that I take self-help classes to manage my anger. Years passed and I was becoming more like Christ.
I will fight for justice and righteous for the sake of freedom, peace and love. Just as the Messiah once did 2,000 years ago.
I was young and adventurous once more. I became a mother at the age of 23.
My mother was constantly nagging me even though she was 752 miles away. My first husband was furious with me for allowing my mother to control my life. I was so distraught.
I became isolated. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere. I couldn't hold a job for more than a year. I cried myself to sleep. My greatest mistake was trusting my mother-in-law. My first husband called me a pushover, naive, and selfish woman.
I tried everything to reconcile my relationships with my parents and my own family. I was at my wit's end. When I threatened to end my relationship with my family, I was thrown into custody of the military mental ward.
Yes, I mentioned genocide. They took the threat seriously. When I gave them the big picture of my situation, they didn't call authorities to arrest my parents or my first husband for abusing me.
I was misdiagnosed for having a borderline personality disorder. I wanted to give up so much. I was tired of being beaten to silence.
I stopped being me. I lingered in the shadows once more. My anger grew and festered. I hurt my baby without realizing it. I wanted to find ways where I could be happier and still have my baby with me.
I felt truly alone (2001 - 2008). I grew fatigued and emotionally weary. My saving grace was God's promises to see to my child's well-being. Her smile was the only thing that kept me resilient throughout my day.
November 2008 was the day every thing turned upside-down. I filed for separation and protection. Even though I was the victim of domestic abuse, I had to take visitation rights for seeing my child.
March 2009, I gained full custody of my child with my best friend's help. He helped me picked up the pieces of my soul that was abandoned in the darkness.
On June 6, my best friend and my sister surprised me with a visit to California. My mother was nothing more than a judgmental and belligerent host to my best friend.
My father on the hand was more accepting. When my father learned that my best friend intended to marry me, he gave me a surprising revelation.
He asked me to forgive him for being a negligent father. He should have trusted his gut when I was always thinking of him and his well-being despite of my isolation from him. He never realized that my mother was manipulating my emotions and violating my personal boundaries. He recalled the letter I wrote him in 2004. He made every effort to protect my sisters in my stead.
I couldn't believe he interpreted my letter just as I intended. I poured out a lot emotions of recompense for being a extrovert. I was overwhelmed with emotions to hear from my father that he was very proud of the woman I became.
When my father passed away 11 months later, I was beyond disbelief.
I tried to console my mother when her husband passed away. She forced me to celebrate my birthday to see my father dead in a casket. A birthday I will never cherish the way I used to when I last visited California.
She doesn't know that my father sanctified my marriage to my current husband. I am bound to my husband's will in accordance to God's covenant at the Garden of Eden.
I said a lot of things that upset my mother. She was overbearing despite proclaiming that her behavior was due to her husband's abuse against her.
I haven't spoken to her since 2010. Whatever I have written here in this blog was my past experience. She cannot take that away from me.
My silent reservations of not returning to California was because of these moments where my own mother made me a prisoner to her delusional reality.
I can't blame my sisters for being indifferent and blind to my imprisonment. I had to protect them from her. When I left California in 2000, I prayed everyday for their future endeavors to be free from my mother's oppressive and toxic behavior.
Their well-being was always in my thoughts. I try my best to remember calling them just to let them know how I'm doing.
They are the reason why I am in almost all of the social media platform.
I learned six months ago that my first husband still consider me his buddy. He was indeed high-strung when I first met him. He eventally found his inner-peace – just as I have expected. I never realized I was the baggage. That's okay. He taught me a lot of things about America.
My mother had a preconceived notion that America was the best country to live in. Since we were forced to tag along, I did my best to make my life as toxic-free as possible.
I acknowledge that my past trauma doesn't define my present self. I have evolved into a wholesome individual. I owe it all to God for delivering me from oppression. I am saved and redeemed.
Since my renewed faith has given me the knowledge and power to connect with others, I bless them too by sharing my experiences.
I came into the world of violence. In the darkness, I grew into a russet potato. I can weather any season and storm that comes my way. My flowers bloom in the summer – absorbing the beauty and light of others around me. I maybe in the darkness, but my vines that bud from my eyes will continue to find the light and meet the world just as I am.
