THE “SHE” CHRONICLES
Episode One – 1963
“Mommy! Make it stop!”
The little girl’s plea fell on deaf ears, as her parents continued to rage at each other, full volume. It was the same scene every weekend. Father came home stinking drunk, and Mother railed at him.
They said horrible things to each other, and once, Mother hurled a heavy, glass ashtray at his head. It broke open a large gash on his temple, and she took him to the hospital.
The little girl was home alone, and peace reigned at last, but only for a while.
Angry voices shattered the darkness, and she woke up with a start. The sounds of vomiting and water running in the tub kept her awake. Just when she started falling asleep once more, loud, panicked shouts filtered through the walls.
“Mommy! Make it stop!”
Father was having yet another nightmare. Mother once told her they were fuelled by memories of his time in mortal combat. “He’s trying to drown them out with alcohol”, she lamented.
It was dawn by then, so the little girl left her bed and went into the kitchen. Grabbed a bowl of cereal, and adjourned to the living room to watch cartoons. She knew it would be hours yet before either of her parents got up.
Staring at the TV but not actively watching, all she could think about was how depressing the rest of the day was going to be.
Mother, tearfully complaining about her lot in life and what an awful man she had married. Father, severely hungover and barely uttering a word, slinking off to watch the football game.
The little girl longed for a “normal” life, where parents adored each other and their children, as depicted in sitcoms of the day, like “Leave it to Beaver”. She would have given anything for a family like that!
Such a rough road for an only child; no siblings to commiserate with, to gain strength from, to share the pain. The little girl was all alone.
Mondays should have brought relief, as she could escape to school. Here was another kind of hell, though, thanks to the bullies who taunted and terrorized her.
She did have a few friends and Father stayed sober until Friday, which made it all bearable. somehow.
Then came the weekend, once more.
“Mommy! Make it stop!”
Mommy didn’t.
Don’t we all have some dark memories, buried deep in the recesses of our minds?
All episodes of The “She” Chronicles are jagged fragments of my life. They are told in the third person by a nameless protagonist to allow for some emotional detachment. See below for more installments:
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Dog Mom and (retired) Canine Innkeeper in suburban Toronto, Canada, known as The Doglady. Former corporate workaholic. Writer, photographer, digital creator. Animal lover, music fanatic, inveterate traveller. Eternal hippie/rockchick. History, literature and cinema buff. Hockey and soccer fan. Dedicated night owl. German/Canadian binational, multilingual. Let me entertain you!
61 thoughts on ““MOMMY! MAKE IT STOP!””
Thanks Debbie for submitting your story to my monthly contest.
And thank YOU, Stevie, for offering the extra exposure! 🙂 Hope you like it! I followed your blog/social media and am looking forward to exploring more. Cheers!
I can certainly see how being an only child made it so much worse. Indeed, less was more — more pain for you and no one to share it with. Share meaning to divide and disperse it, in a manner of speaking.
~ D-FensDogG
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(Link:] Stephen T. McCarthy Reviews…
Yes, I think that was the hardest part – not having anyone to share the misery with. Of course, nobody on the outside had any idea what was going on behind closed doors. Thanks for reading my “tales from the dark side”.
That is sad. I’m thankful my husband and I don’t fight like this.
Yes, it’s too bad some parents don’t consider the impact this will have on their children. Thanks for dropping in! 🙂
Wow, that was unexpectedly dark. I think I’ll go have a drink.
Glad to know my story had an impact. 🙂 Hopefully, that means it was good. Thanks for visiting and for creating this blogfest. Cheers!
Hey Debbie,
This sounds so painfully familiar of a young girl I once knew and lived a similar childhood. The emotional damage this does for a child is one that never heals. 🙁
B
Yes, there are common elements here for many, I’m sad to say. 🙁 This type of childhood definitely leaves scars, but also helps to strengthen character, I believe. Thanks for coming by, Bren! 🙂 Happy Memorial Day Weekend to you.
That one is so sad! 🙁
Even at a young age, we all want security and peace. Maslow was so right with his heirarchy; never thought I’d agree with psychobabble of any sort. There ya go…just one more thing I’m wrong about. 🙂
It is a sad story and one of many in this harsh world. A dysfunctional childhood will definitely leave scars, but a strong person is capable of transcending those disadvantages. I’ll have to look up that particular bit of psychobabble, as I’m not familiar with it. Thanks for coming by and adding to my education. 🙂
Very powerful post. Incredibly sad…and unfortunately all too common. How tragic is that?! I can’t imagine having a childhood like that. Sure, there were arguments in my house growing up but it was very typical, nothing out of the ordinary. Although sometimes situations like the one you describe is sadly typical.
Great images you used with the story. They really helped convey the mood.
Very well done Debbie!
Michele at Angels Bark
Yes, this little girl had a rough time and I’m glad you felt the impact of the story, Michele. There are many children of alcoholics, drug addicts, etc. with similar tales of woe, unfortunately. Thanks for coming by. Have a Happy Memorial Day weekend!
That’s a sad story. Was really hoping for a happy ending. =(
There are many such sad stories in the world. The happy ending comes when the child transcends her upbringing and lives a better life. Thanks for coming by! 🙂
Gosh! My heart goes out to her, Debbie! That was raw!
I saw your msg on Facebook about FlashbackFriday. Great idea! Love and hugs to you!
It is a sad tale, to be sure. Thanks for reading it, Vidya. Why not join us next time? ((HUGS)) back!
What a well-written portrayal of a massacred childhood. God knows we can’t ever get that back and perhaps it’s the reason we’re all equipped with self-preservation for when storybook monsters pale to the ones among us. I hope to read more on the fate of this angel. Have a perfectly uplifting week, my friend!
Thank you, Diedre. “Massacred childhood” is a brilliant bit of phrasing; you are a masterful writer! Some are able to cope better than others, I think. What disturbs me is when people try to justify bad or criminal behaviour by blaming their dysfunctional upbringing. Happy Memorial Day weekend to you! 🙂
Wow, that’s a rough story. I hear something like this and am reminded how fortunate I was in my childhood.
Arlee Bird
Sadly, there are many such stories of dysfunctional childhoods out there. I’m glad yours was a good one. 🙂
This is the single most depressing account I have read all the year.
I have never seen anything like this first hand.
You are fortunate, Myke. There are many such sad stories out there. Thanks for reading this one! 🙂
How sad. It brings back memories from my own past. In my case it was my father and sister. I as the youngest played mediator and fool, and guard. At least I felt like UI had to protect my mother but of course that was never the case. She protected me as much as she could but I still felt I had to be the protector.
Still F*’ed up after all these years would be the title of my biography.
I’m sorry you had such a rough childhood, Chi Chi. Living with one alcoholic is bad enough; can’t imagine two! 🙁 At least your mother was protective and concerned about you. Thanks for sharing your story here. Good song!
Poor thing! What a difficult childhood. It would be so hard to find peace neither at home nor at school. It will be interesting to read other vignettes in the series.
It is tough when there’s trouble everywhere you go. Thanks for coming by, Ellen. 🙂
I’m so sorry to learn that you have had such a painful childhood. Your writing comes from the heart, and the message is strong.
You are not
Your roots.
You are a flower
Grown from them.
-pavana
Thank you for reading my story, Angelika. It was easier to write in the third person, disguised as “fiction” at the time. One of my favourite sayings is: “Whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger” and I think this applies in my case here. 🙂
I love the sentiment you expressed! To overcome one’s roots by growing and flowering is a beautiful analogy. Thanks again!
This story was so heartbreaking, Debbie. I feel for you. You’ve managed to overcome a difficult childhood. Not everyone is strong enough to do that. My childhood wasn’t always rosy with all the stress of moving so much and my parents were caught up in that military lifestyle where alcohol flowed like water. My dad even became an alcoholic as he used alcohol like a crutch since he was a shy soul. Luckily he never had to see any combat like your father so he didn’t have to drink away his demons but he still drank too much. Both of them would have loud drunken parties lasting til late. They often got drunk and had fights but nothing as bad as what you describe. Must have been very sad and lonely but you overcame and managed to survive. Bravo to you! You are amazing!
Thank you for sharing your personal memories as well, Cathy. I hope it was as cathartic for you as it was for me. ((HUGS)) Yes, the military lifestyle often revolves around alcohol, what with cheap drinks available in the mess halls and frequent social gatherings. Sadly, the children are usually forgotten during these times of drunken strife. My mother didn’t drink, but she was completely self-absorbed with her own problems. It’s true, the scars of a dysfunctional childhood remain and not everyone gets over that, but I found it made me tougher, with a “take no shit” attitude. 🙂 This fits right in with one of my favourite expressions: “Whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”. Life goes on!
Debbie, this is very touching!How the poor girl can bear so much. It will be haunting her all the time.Unfortunately this is the harsh reality of life.
Debbie how did you publish this?My archives post was not accpted by FB
Yes, life can sometimes be harsh, but, as one of my favourite expressions goes:
“Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
It seems that Facebook has blocked your blog for some reason, Usha, but that doesn’t affect mine. Hope you can straighten it out. Complain long and loud! Several of us have already submitted our comments to Facebook about this.
Great writing, friend of mine! Remember the voice at the beginning of the Dragnet TV series? This is a true story, the names have been changed to protect the innocent. But Alice in Wonderland here says it isn’t!
Uh-oh. Busted! 😛 It’s just easier to write about painful memories in the third person. More objective, too. SHHHHH! 😉 There’s another one, called “What If”. You would probably recognize something there too.
Such a sad story. In answer to your question, “Don’t we all have dark memories?” No, I don’t and would hope a lot people don’t either. Am I lucky not to have dark memories as this? I always thought stories like this were the exception not the rule. Your question/statement bothers and intrigues me.
Sorry it disturbs you, Joyce, but, I’m glad it’s also intriguing. In my opinion, there are more sad stories out there than most people imagine. Thanks for visiting! 🙂
Hi Debbie,
Is it real?!
Reminds me of the part of my life where I was speechless and always thoughts running in my mind 😉 No, my parents are not like that, but anger towards children can do the harm.
But those dark memories makes who we are 🙂 I’m grateful enough.
Survived and never let it happen 🙂
Cheers…
Hello Mayura; I’ll leave that to speculation. 😉 I agree that whatever dark memories we have shape who we are. Thanks for visiting today and have a great week! 🙂
A very powerful piece, Debbie – made me think about some reflections I had recently on a few posts I read around Mother’s day – all that adulation and no-one daring to mention that Mums don’t always get it right and sometimes let their children down, big time.
I want to know how this little girl’s life turns out!
Sue
You know, that thought goes through my mind fairly often, as well. Not all mothers are completely wonderful. Let’s be optimistic and think the girl was able to overcome her disadvantages. Thanks for reading! 🙂
Great story Debbie! Sad that anyone has to live through any kind of abuse.
Hey!
This is amazing. Thanks for writing this. I can’t wait to see more posts! You did a pretty good job with this piece for sure.
Thank you for reading it, Jeremy. Glad you liked it. 🙂
Tuff read! Your a very gifted writer, Debbie!
Thank you, Joy. 🙂 Great incentive to keep at it. Cheers!
Tough story, and even though I want to hope that is not a true story, I have the feeling that it is.
How sad it is that some children have to grow up in household of violence. Something that never leave them.
Thanks for sharing this.
Thanks for reading it, Sylviane. 🙂 Yes, whatever happens in childhood shapes who we are.
Wow Deb, how profound and sad. I am hoping this wasn’t written from personal experience but my heart tells me that it was. Those memories last for a lifetime. It makes a person wonder why it is that the ones who are suppose to love and protect us…are often the abuser… Excellent work Deb
Thank you Norma. Really appreciate the visit and comments We gain strength from adversity. 🙂
Wow, that was one powerful story. I won’t even speculate on how true it might have been. Keep up the good, fearless writing.
Thank you so much, Loy. Will do my best. 🙂 Appreciate your time. Have a great weekend.
In my work I have heard that story many times before, unfortunately. Those children grow up and they either perpetuate the misery in their own children’s lives, or they become some of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I hope this child became one of the latter.
Yes, it’s sad how a dysfunctional childhood can wreak havoc in later life. As you said though, some have the strength to rise above and become better people. This old saying holds true in many cases: “Whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”. Thanks for the visit and comment, Rumpydog. Happy trails! 🙂
I think this is more common than those who endure it realize. The saddest part, is that there were no siblings to confide in. I can’t imagine going thru it alone.
A sad, solitary existence, to be sure. Thanks for reading, G. 🙂