Big Sis, Lil Momma
I began adulthood when I was five years old. It was gradual that first year, but after my mother got pregnant by my then step-father the learning curve grew steeper with each passing month. By my mother’s sixth month of pregnancy I learned Larry was an alcoholic pervert. By her seventh month, I had learned how to play opossum while being sexually assaulted. By her eighth month, I learned it was my duty to assume the responsibilities she ignored or forgot. By her ninth month, I learned how to take care of a baby because neither Larry nor my mother could be trusted to handle it. I fell in love with David the first time I saw him and I took my role as big sister very seriously. I knew I would protect him at all costs.
The day my mother and brand new baby brother were released from the hospital I learned Larry was also physically abusive and how to rescue them from him. I learned by sheer guy instinct. Larry was drunk and started arguing with my mother. She said something and he threw her up against the dryer and started slapping and punching her. He broke her glasses for the first time. I was screaming at him, trying to distract him and get him to leave her alone. The baby was crying. Mom took off outside to get away from Larry. I ran to David and picked him up; trying to soothe him and stop his crying. I was scared shitless that Larry was going to hurt him if I couldn’t settle him down.
I successfully got David to stop crying. Larry ran outside, looking for my mom. I knew if I didn’t do something to stop the fight he would hurt her badly. I was trying to figure out what do with the baby so I could go help Mom, but Larry came back in. He couldn’t find her. Then he seen me with the baby and snatched him from my arms. He ran outside screaming for my mother with the baby crying in his arms.
I knew I had to get the baby away from him, no matter what. I ran after them. I was crying, begging Larry to give me the baby. I told him he was hungry and needed to be fed. He wouldn’t give him to me. He kept screaming my mom’s name and that he had the baby. I saw her behind him. She had one of the lenses from her glasses, trying to find her way around in the dark. I saw her duck into a neighbor’s closed doorway. I went up to Larry and took the baby from him, saying it was late and if we didn’t get inside someone would call the police. I ran as fast as I could, holding the baby. When we go back to the apartment I grabbed his bottle and hid in my closet with him.
After David fell asleep, I tiptoed down the stairs, and then sneaked past Larry. I ran to the pay phone. I called my granny and told her what had happened. Pawpa was at work, but Granny told me she would be there soon. Then I went to the neighbor’s apartment to find Mom. I gave her the rest of her broken glasses and told her Granny was coming over and that the baby was fine. We went back to the apartment. Larry jumped up and started in on her again. I kept looking for Granny’s headlights and was so relieved when she finally pulled into the parking lot. I went running out to meet her. She had a big crescent wrench and went storming into our apartment. She grabbed Larry and pushed him down to the floor. She straddled him and told him to settle down or she was going to beat him with the wrench. He knew better than to raise his hand to my Granny.
I learned then that a being a big, formidable woman would help keep me and my loved ones safe. I wanted to be able to handle Larry, and men like him, the way my Granny did that night. I should’ve learned that Larry was a coward, but I didn’t, yet. I had seen him throw my Mom around like a rag doll and I knew he could break me in half if he wanted. I also learned to keep my eyes on the baby at all times when they were fighting or intoxicated, which was quite often. I learned to step in and take the beating when I could or to get an adult involved when I couldn’t get Larry to take his aggression out on me instead. Over the years, I took a lot of abuse to protect my Mom and siblings. I don’t regret it. I would do it all over again, except blaming myself for the sexual abuse.
On this day..
- My Shameful Secret - 2007
About BipolarChick (599 posts)
I’m a thirty-something bipolar woman, an advanced tech agent with a pay tv provider, tax preparer for a local charity, current Tulsa inhabitant, and I’m one credit shy of an Associate Degree in Liberal Arts. I’m working on recovery from self-injury and working toward stabilizing my bipolar symptoms. Recovery is very important to me. I’ve been mostly single the past few years and plagued by a seemingly never-ending series of jackasses, assholes, and married men. I have no children of my own, but I have lots of nieces and nephews I love to spoil.