Dysfunction Junction……..All Aboard!!


My noggin has been working overtime and that is not a bad thing unless, of course, I blow a mind-fuse or my Motherboard.

Oh no, there’s that “M” word again!
Mother, the person who contributed to my existence on this troubled earth we live in and the foundation of my writings. I find it difficult to get through a day without tripping over some reminder of the woman who dabbled in selective motherhood.

On top of it all, those darn skeletons have been creeping out of the closet for the last day, or two, after being locked away for the last 3 years since…. “the crash”.

Yes, the big one….that dreaded Blue Screen of Death!

It happened shortly after Mom died as I went into my office to finalize the revisions on my book. Fired up my Dell and it fired right back with a series of messages that my hard drive was Done, Kaput, Finito!

Guess what I had neglected to do?



Yes, guilty as charged for not having backed-up all my data. There was no fix, no rescue, no Geek Squad; my work, photographs, my book…..gone. Fortunately, thanks to my participation in a local writer’s group, I did have hard copy on most of the book, just not the latest updates added after Mom’s death.

Hey….I never said I was perfect!

I regarded this as an omen, a reason to step away from what had been so important to me and packed my book away, shoving the skeletons to the back of the closet in the process. Somehow I thought that my mother’s passing relieved me of having to share her story, and mine, that closure had finally come to pass now that the hurtful progressions of the past had come to an end.

The very day my mother died, my husband turned to me and said “You’re free now”.  Indeed I was, or so I thought.  No more endless nights of screaming and attempted escapes out the door; no more diapers, laundry, ducking from hurled food across the table.  No more rushing to get her ready for day care so I could work or making the 50 mile trip back home each day to pick her up again.  Ahhhh….I really was….free!

Until the skeletons picked the closet lock and made a break for it, causing the anger set in once again, and I started thinking.  After all, you need a license for a dog, a license to get married, well, there should be a similar requirement where a child is concerned. Think about it.

I make a good point, do I not?

Consider the red tape adoptive parents have to wade through in order to bring a child into their lives. Agencies mandate months of exhaustive investigations in an effort to assure that the adoptive child goes into a stable, productive and safe environment.

Giving birth does not give every woman the necessary credentials that guarantee her of being a responsible mother. Let’s face it, having a child is a learning process unto itself apart from the help and assistance of relatives, friends and books. Some women are exemplary mothers from day one, others cannot separate themselves from the baggage of their past to responsibly provide for the child they bring into the world.  

Understand that I remember because I choose to do so unlike my mother who made the conscious decision to forget long before Alzheimer’s disease started its assault on her brain.

How do you forget your only child, any child, for that matter? Sure, everyone has their moments of parental ignorance, deliberate or otherwise and, raising children, at times, can be an on-going test of wills and a losing battle of patience versus demands. But, where I was concerned, I was a good kid.

Honestly, I was!

Okay, my defenses are kicking-up here, as usual. It always happens when I delve too deeply into my painful family history. There’s no graceful way around it for I’m totally committed to sharing what must be said in the hopes of reaching out to some other kindred spirit who, like me, grew up, and has become a survivor, in spite of fractured parental units.

Survivora person who continues to function or prosper in spite of opposition, hardship, or setbacks.

  • Continues to function – Yes, for the most part. 
  • Prosper In this economy? 
  • OppositionDealing with remarks like “That’s in the past; why do you want to dwell on it?”
  • HardshipAlways feeling like damaged goods.  Does that qualify?
  • Setbacks Nightmares, flashbacks, old family photos that trigger bad memories and cause that chill to slide up the back of your neck.  Sound familiar? 

Anyone, anyone?

I know you’re out there….talk to me.



  1. No. 7 says:

    I'm here and I hear you. This is something I'd love to blog about, but fear that I will be hurting a lot of feelings and causing embarassment should I let it out.

  2. Slidecutter says:

    Trust me, I know; stood at that moral injunction impasse years ago when I decided that all the horrible wrongs had to be made right. Let's face it, we have all put more thought into doing "the right thing" than those who did "the wrong thing"!As in any situation involving any degree of the crime of child abuse, the criminals often walk free and are never held legally, or morally, responsible for their unspeakable actions. The victims of these crimes keep silent instead of seeking help.In my case, asking for help from the offending parent brought no response from the other; it was just easier to ignore what was right under her nose.Go for the closure, No.7. It's owed to you, me and every other survivor out there.

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