Childhood Wounds: Adult Remedies
I wanted to share this post that went viral a few years ago about the abuse I experienced at the hands of my mother's husband, who by default was my step dad. I never referenced him as such. He simply was my 3 maternal sister's father, not mine. A man my mother decided to marry. The irony is not lost on me. The dissociation and culminating mental parameters I had to erect in order to survive may explain my distrust in men and my clinging to womanhood, and moreso, femininity as a source of strength. My mother, whose sanctification dictated that she was never in pants, but long, beautiful skirts and equally beautiful dresses. My mother was a "corporate baddie" before the term hit the instagram zeitgeist. She worked as a telemarketing supervisor at our local newspaper behemoth, The Clarion Ledger. She would go on to work at wireless one and finally a supervisor for MCI Worldcom. The latter must go noted as the provider of her health insurance as she batted breast cancer ...
