Mi Madre

Where to start ....

Well ok. Lets start by saying. I dont hate her. I love my mother. Just that I feel, that I dont love her like a daughter should love her mother, or maybe as much as a daughter should.

Sometimes I think that it works both ways, I think more so I know that she resents me. Even though I know it was not my fault that she had premarital sex, got pregnant, "had to" marry my father, and that I instead of a boy turned out to be a girl.

They didnt even have a name for me...they were expecting a boy, and my name would of course be that of my fathers. There was no doubting it, IF I was REALLY a NOCHEZ...I HAD to be a boy, otherwise I was someone elses child, because Nochez' men only had boys.

Yes, lets start from there. My mother, comes from humble if not poor upbringing. My father, not so much. Well educated, accepted in the UES, at a time when you really had to fight for a seat in that place. He never was good looking, especially then, I mean the whole hippie style did not suit him at all, and there was a BUT to him..he has a disability..he is a polio victim. I will talk more about my father on another entry. For now this is enough.

So there was my mother, a servant, pregnant with the child of someone, by societies standards, far above her. I understand, it wasnt easy, my grandmother wasnt easy. My understanding is she had to live with humiliations, day in and day out. That she was told so many times, while pregnant that she was not worthy of the Nochez name.

The year of my birth, 2 boys had been born before me. The first one, ironically enough, born from an affair but still accepted, of course he was a boy, the second in wedlock and I was to be a third...happiness...3 males in one year...*sigh* tsk tsk tsk ....

The day I was born, my father wasnt there...he dropped out of school, and well he worked for his father driving buses. He was on a run...My mother alone gave birth at 0440 the morning of Saturday, September 29th 1979...weighing in at 10 lbs ...ta'ra... GIRL. I think it took them all by surprise. I was white, very light brown hair and they say I had greyish greenish eyes, but we all do right? So there I was this chunk of a baby without a name, because I wasnt supposed to be a girl.

Finally, one of my uncles, which has since passed, said ..well shes the first girl, so she should be a Karla in honor of our dad, and Elizabeth because Bety is a variance of Elizabeth and that should be in honor of our mom. So there is the origin of my name. So finally I had a name.

I am told by other sources, whether reliable or not, i dont know, that my mother was given hell because I was a girl. My father left the country, came to the US. Leaving my mother behind in a house of wolves. I am told, that during the first months, sometimes she didnt have anything to feed me, and they would never lend a hand. I wasnt a Nochez...I didnt look Nochez. Eventually I am told with my "sweet" personality I won my grandparents over...but by then...my mother had already been through so much, and I believe I truly believe resentment was already in her heart.

Finally one day, we came here, joined my uncles and father. I can remember as early as 3. We lived in sunnyvale, in a house they all rented. My mother worked 2 jobs as did my father, and other uncles. I was taken care of this lovely portuguese family, the grandmother especially, whom I cant remember her name for the damn life of me, but my best friend at the time, which was her grandaughter I will always remember. Aurelia. She was my friend...I was 3 she was 8 or 9? LOL...age difference didnt matter..we had fun. At that time, I was fluent in portuguese or so I am told, I remember some of  this because the lady didnt speak english or spanish ...yet I had conversations with her and I remember understanding what she would say. Yet of that language I remember very very little.

I remember that during that time, my mother never laid a hand on me, until one day...I cant remember what the reason was...but my mother hit me, and from that day on she didnt stop. I remember running to Aurelia, and crying scared of going back, I remember endless times I begged the lady not to send me home, to stay for more time. I didnt want to go home.

Years passed and there wasnt a week that went by without receiving a beating, for the smallest things, for spilling my milk, for getting a B instead of an A, for wanting to go out, for talking during dinner, for not eating with my mouth closed, for saying no, for being to fat, for not eating, for not taking a shower on time, for coloring outside the lines, for not washing the dishes right for not folding my clothes right, for not finishing a book on time, for hating math, for wanting to go out and play, for not going to church, for not wanting to particpate in the fucking school pageant, for not walking like a lady, for being a tomboy...the list goes on and on and on...and along with the physical abuse came the emotional ones...her words are hurtful and still ring in my head...q desgracia de hija sos, you are too fat, you are ugly, you are a slut, you are stupid, you cant do anything right, you are brainless, a mouse has more brains that you, you should be happy that you got married...*sigh* and the list can go on and on and on....

I remember always wanting to please her, and the more I tried the more I got the opposite response, if I did something right, instead of praising me, she would say good, next time do better.

Oh yes...mi madre....

The sad thing is...what hurts me more now...is that she doesnt accept it. I have told her, and she says I am making it up, its all in my head...WTF!!! How can I make shit up when to this day, I am made fun of because of the beatings she would give me, by my cousins. It is a well known fact that she beat me. That I was terrified of her. That whenever we would do something that would remotely set her off, I would start crying and shaking...SHE IS THE DAMN REASON I CANT BE A NORMAL PERSON AND LIE! I cant lie...at ALL...not even the smallest white lie...I CANT ...it makes me nervous and when I do lie..I dont feel well and have to tell the truth...WHY? because everytime I would lie to her I would get a beating, even if I wasnt lying and she thought I was..she would beat me just to be sure I was telling the truth...I am made fun of at 30 because my mother beat me..my AUNT...at work says ..."ya le voy a decir a tu mama ois" WTF...and the sad thing ...I get nervous can you believe that shit...I am to this day afraid of my mother...

I remember during the beatings and after...wanting to die...asking her to kill me ...after the beatings I would look for ways to die...but something always stopped me....something I cant explain....something that still stops me ...I dont know what it is....

*sigh*

but even after all of that...she is my mother, she gave me life, and gave me everything that her economical possibilties could give me...but she never gave me what by human nature everyone seeks....

Affection.....

......chelitta