by Janis Keller
I still lived at home and had ceased to fear my mother who happened to detest me on a regular basis.
I had discovered, however, that something was not right with her pschycologically, however, and decided to put it to a test. I wasn't afraid of making her angry.
She had been spreading gossip about me already, and it left me free to be myself. I wanted to know just how much she did notice about me, since she always blamed me about this, that,etc. So I went into the kitchen where she was and proceeded to cuss her out.
Now I was a Christian then, and I am now. I didn't even use slang, then. The fact that I was using hard core (I tho't) swear words to tell mother what I tho't of her was only a test.
Here's what she did: she backed up against the fridge with this real innocent look on her face and announced that I was demon possessed! O.K. A normal mother would wanted to know what was wrong with me, the one who never did anything wrong. Not Mama.
Now, I think it's funny. Then, it just confirmed the fact that she was basically off-base and out-of-step. When I was 8 years old,
Mama was, for no reason I knew of, angry with me and my brother and sister. She was shaking me by the shoulders, then she slapped my face, just when a neighbor came in.
The neighbor said, Dorothy, you can't do that! Mama said, I don't like her! The neighbor responded, I don't like her either, but you can't do that! Then the neighbor went to call the doctor.
While she was gone, Mama slapped my sister on the face, then shook me some more. My brother was pale, so I reached over and bit my mother on the arm. She left us alone after that until the neighbor came back.
My brother and sister were older than I was. I was the baby. My older siblings were afraid of Mother. I felt it was my job to protect them.
Every time I stood up to my Mother, she hated me a little more, until she just simply despised me.
She eventually stuck me in a room (that was very nicely decorated--one I would have otherwise enjoyed) and made me stay there when I wasn't at school or in church.
I finally got so depressed that I told God He needed to do something because I was dying. This wasn't a teenager's drama queen reaction, either. I was dying. After I prayed, things happened.
Some girls who I admired asked me to sit with them at lunch. They had asked before, but I was not able to be a friend. This time, I accepted. Gladly.
Then, some teachers stopped by my lunchtable to see how I was doing. I happened to tell my former P.E. teacher everything. I trusted her, for some reason, and she talked it over with me.
Mother had threatened me with the insane asylum (mental institution) if I told anyone about what she was doing, or if I tried to run away from home. My P.E. teacher suggested that that type of hospital might be a good idea--I would be away from home, and I could rest, and when it was time to leave, the nurses there might help me find a job.
I was so relieved that I went home that very day and told Mama that I was ready to go to the mental institution. She replied, Well, you're not going, so there. And don't tell your daddy about this. So I immediately did.
I had discovered that I had people on my side, and that God had answered my prayers! I still weep when I remember this time in my life. That wasn't the end of my troubles with my Mother, but it was a start for me to learn to put my faith in God, and not in my own wit or skills where Mother was concerned. Praise God!!!!