March 8, 2010

The folgers can incident

In the name of Allah, compassionate & merciful بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمنِ الرَّحِيمِ
Peace be with you السلام عليكم

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Graphic
Again if you can't read about domestic and child abuse please DON'T read further.
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Background: My mom had remarried a younger guy within months of leaving my step dad/ my bros dad of 17 years. We were living on the 3rd floor of an apartment complex and I was in 8th grade.


With the exception of the house we shared with my step dad every other home my mother, bros and I lived in (post divorce) seem to be infested with roaches. gross. Anyway it was a custom of ours to keep a folgers coffee can (I don't think the cans are in production any more) and we would fill it with sugar. That way the roaches wouldn't get in to our sugar nor would it go stale in its original packaging.

It was my responsibility among a mountain of responsibilities to make sure the 5lbs bag of sugar was poured into the can. It usually never fit but the remainder would be put into the fridge until there was room in the can since I would get a beating if there was no sugar. This one time the sugar actually fit because it was nearly empty and although there was like 5 spoonfuls of sugar left in the bag I managed to somehow squeezed them in to the can without spilling anything. I was really proud of myself as I have a little selective OCD when it comes to efficiency and stuff related to it. Anyway what I failed to notice was that because I jam packed all the sugar in to the can it had no room for the little scoop. I didn't think much of it because we rinse all of our utensils before we use them because of the roach infestation so I threw the bag in the garbage.

When my mother came home she went to make herself a cup of coffee and let out a scream. We all ran to the kitchen (bros and I) because we thought she may have cut herself and was bleeding to death or something. She was extremely angry that I had made the unforgivable mistake of not making room for her scoop. She went in to her normal tirade of what a useless piece of animal excrement I was and how I was a good for nothing and how I would mess up even the most simplest of commands and so on.

She demanded I pick the sugar bag from the garbage and pour some sugar from the can into the bag to make room for the darn scoop. I knew it was a trap, a damned if you do and damned if you don't situation. Because this is the woman who jumps through major hoops for food cleanliness and here she is demanding I do something I know she wouldn't do in a million years.

Not knowing what to do, I did nothing. Apparently that infuriated her so much that she started beating me. After hearing the verbal tirade of my pathetic self, her blows didn't even hurt. She demanded again I pick the bag up and this time I figured why do it now? She already beat me? what more could she do? So I stood my silent ground.

Well she grabbed me by my hair, punched, kicked and somehow had me on the kitchen floor slamming the back of my head against the floor. I can't even describe to you the helplessness and hopelessness I felt. Like I didn't matter. I was a nobody. My mother didn't even love me who else would? I lost my will to live (again) so I just went limp and allowed her to continue slamming my head against the floor. I tried to keep my eyes shut during this because I didn't want her face to be the last thing I look at before I die. I was unable to keep my eyes shut because the red flashes of light when my head hit the floor were too strong so I focused on the ceiling instead. I didn't share a tear (although am crying right now just remembering the feelings) because at that time I felt that tears were for weak people and aggressors feed on your pain. My brothers (fourth grade and first grade) just stared at us not knowing what to do and scared out of their minds.

I honestly don't know how long she was at it because I was waiting to die, hoping I would see the white light people talk about and finally experiencing peace. Well I didn't get that because my mom's new husband arrived home and walked in to a bloody mess. I mean how many times does a skull need to be bashed or for the blood loss to become fatal? I was even a failure at dying.

He ripped my mother from me and ordered me to go to my shared room with my bros. As I was leaving I heard her crying and upset I hadn't shown any emotion, "how can you punish a kid who doesn't seem to feel pain?" I walked away thinking that God must certainly not love me to allow this to go on without giving me a means of escape. I was a shell of a person.

6 comments:

NtN said...

SubhanaAllah. May Allah SWT continue to help you through these memories and heal you and may He grant you ajr for the pain you have experienced, ameen.

♥Tiffany Nicole♥ said...

OMGeee Tuttie ((((Hugs))))

WOW!
I know you had written before a bit about your childhood but, I'm so sorry & had no idea it was such a dark one.
& from the sound of this "incident" I'm sure there are lots more stories like this one
:(

I'm happy that you have grown up to be such a wonderful gal & mom.

AlabasterMuslim said...

awww tuttie don't cryyy *ehug* i love you!! I feel bad for your head though man. Ouch!! Thank god your moms new husband had come out. You didn't say whether you had to go to the hospital or not?

R2theM said...

I know it must be so hard for you to write these posts. My heart goes out to you for all that you have suffered.

I feel guilty in a way because when I read these posts of yours, I remember similar incidents from my childhood. In a sick way, I find some comfort knowing that it was not just me and that I'm not the only one who experienced these sorts of things. I'm sorry for that too.

Gypsyheartyasi said...

Thats so sad, I'm sorry you went through this. Wow my eyes water as i read your story. Im so sorry. I hope Allah grants you happiness and a better life.

.::Tuttie::. said...

@Al. No I was not taken to the hospital because my mom had an open DYFS (division of youth and family services) aka CPS (Child protection service)had an open case with her. Had they taken me to the hospital we would have been removed.

I personally didn't care because I was still hoping the injury might be fatal.

Alhamdulillah I survived though because I would have missed out on becoming Muslim, getting married to my wonderful hubs and most importantly my baby boy.

Followers