Life is not fair Honey Bear.

23 Sep


Originally uploaded by thordora

She’s been tears and fears lately, brimming with joy and cringing at the wings she’s growing, her feathers new and moist.

It’s hard to be six.

The world is unfair. She needs help. She isn’t smart enough. She isn’t good enough.

The words from a toxic friendship with an even more toxic parent still hover around her, float, flying out occasionally with a random, “Tomas said I’m stupid. Tomas always broke my things-he broke everyone’s things”, “Tomas broke my heart.”

At six, where does a girl child learn this, a broken heart?

She’s learned already that some adults cannot, should not be trusted. We’ve learned the lesson too, as she speaks more about what happened, the things she couldn’t tell us then, for whatever reason.

We trusted someone who didn’t tell us things, stories about stuff like addiction and criminal records. We trusted her and we trusted him and her little heart-it’s been broken by a boy who’s mother I question in my head, or did question. Her child has created in mine a little girl who doubts, a shining creature who now questions what she knew, her brilliance, her personal perfection, the wonder she grants the world.

If I could hate a child, I would.

She lashes out, not at me, but others, and when I question, she cries in my arms and tells me there’s just too many words in her head and she doesn’t know where to put them.

She’s watched people be hateful and mean to each other, and thinks this is how life really is.

Her nightmare’s kept her up last night, her tears falling on my arms as I cradled her head, the tiny head I brought home years ago and swore I’d protect from harm, swore I’d keep happy.

I broke my promise. Yet I didn’t even know until it was too late to stop it.

Now I fix it. Now I hold her little body as it shakes with the anger she rightfully feels, the sadness, the betrayal. I hold her and wait for the light to appear once more, her light, the beautiful woman in waiting. I tell her she never has to see him again, hear his voice.

I wonder for him, and what he lives all day. We tried-lord knows we tried for him. But did we try hard enough? Should we do more? Do we make a call that rips a child from their mother?

We choose to stop answering the phone, locking the doors. We wait for them to move.

Vivian figures it out, and stares at me with grateful eyes.

14 Responses to “Life is not fair Honey Bear.”

  1. Jennifer September 23, 2009 at 7:56 am #

    Oh crap. I’m sorry you’re having some issues there. I remember your telling me a bit about it. My brain is not on today, just wanted to let you know that I think you already know what you need to do.

  2. Carin September 23, 2009 at 9:18 am #

    Damn it. I remember you talking about him before. I’m so sad it turned out to be what you’re afraid of. Poor little Vivian.

  3. Marcy September 23, 2009 at 9:46 am #

    Ugh. Wishing clarity to you as you decide how best to respond.

  4. bromac September 23, 2009 at 11:11 am #

    Poor Girl. I’m sorry. I hope her nightmares end soon and she learns that there are good people out there–a hard lesson learned sometimes.

  5. Vicki September 23, 2009 at 1:33 pm #

    If I could I would beat the crap out of every person on the face of the earth who steals the innocence of a child with the intentions of doing harm. They are so fragile.

    Molding children’s perspectives of the world is a lot like blowing glass. You have to be so careful and sometimes even when you get it perfect, someone comes along and shatters it.

    I pray that you find the wisdom you need to deal with this situation and that your daughter finds her bliss again soon.

  6. Shauna September 25, 2009 at 12:16 pm #

    Heartbreaking. You are wonderful for being her safe place. The world gets in, no matter what kind of protection we can create. You can always be her safe place.

    And for what it’s worth, sometimes making that call early is better than someone else still having to make it later, more destruction in wake. Tough call, only you can make it.

    Sending strength, deep breaths, and love

  7. thordora September 26, 2009 at 12:38 am #

    THe universe listened, and they moved-off the street, out of the school zone. So they are gone. We stopped answering their calls or the door-they took the hint.

    I really didn’t know what to do, aside from just wrap my family up in itself. I’m sure I should have called someone about her kid, but all I could think was what if they look at me? What kind of a person am I for letting my kids stay with her?

    It sucked. It just plain sucked.

    But the other day, when she explained that the woman locked them out of the house and made them pee in the bushes, I nearly lost it. And swore that the next time I see this “woman”, it won’t be pretty.

    I can’t believe my own kid didn’t feel like she could tell me. Why else wouldn’t she?

  8. Bon September 26, 2009 at 10:27 am #

    oh wow. that sucks and has to be heartbreaking for you, and i’m glad at least they’re gone.

    now, like you say, you fix it. you build her trust again. i don’t think it’s so strange that she didn’t tell you…kids, many kids, are wary by nature of telling things that confuse them. i was.


  9. March September 26, 2009 at 3:55 pm #

    oh my gosh!
    how horrible people and I’m so very sorry that she even had to come in contact with them. thank heavens they are gone.
    I’m shocked, people are so vile.
    sending good vibes so she learns that while there are awful people from which we must defend ourselves, there are plenty more that are loving and kind and beautiful just like herself.

  10. pickel September 27, 2009 at 11:48 pm #

    poor thing.

  11. Vicki September 28, 2009 at 8:54 am #

    Ok. Now I’m even more pissed. I don’t believe people like that deserve to live. You NEVER do something like that to children. You should report her to child services. I’m serious. What if she does it to someone else’s kids?

  12. thordora September 28, 2009 at 10:33 am #

    Honestly, after last January, little nervous about calling child services, all things considered. And I have no idea where the woman is now.

  13. Kelly September 29, 2009 at 2:50 pm #

    I am so sad for you, for your beautiful girl who learned such pain, but most for that little guy. I do think, however, that your daughter also learned that even in such sadness and pain, she has a mother who she can curl her fear against. She is so lucky to have you, so be gentle with yourself. We can’t save the world.


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