Mom

 I do not have fond memories of my mom. I recall feeling like she loathed me. The difference in her treatment between myself and my brother was quite glaringly over-the-top.

Christmases and birthdays would be ridiculous. First of all my birthday falls late in the year. I realise we were poor but mom seemed to share the holiday gift budget between my birthday and Christmas. It resulted in a small present for each while in comparison my brother's haul was huge. I am not kidding here. This is not an unfounded whine that things are unfair and mom doesn't love me. This was actually quite true.

One holiday I received a skateboard. The price tag of $16.99 was still affixed. But imagine being 12 years old and running out to the living room and Christmas tree. Squished in around the tree and between the pieces of furniture was the biggest haul of gifts I had ever seen. Most of is was unwrappable. Hockey equipment, out door nets, fishing equipment, tent, ruck sack, camp cooking equipment, sleeping bag, pad, and so on. There I was, the outdoor kid in a sea of outdoor gear. How absolutely wonderful. But that was not to be for as I went from gift tag to gift tag, I discovered they all had my brother's name. All of it. That morning, when the family was together and I was forced to witness the show, I put on one of the best Oscar winning performances of happiness I ever did. The explanation? They weren't gifts rather the tools necessary for playing hockey and scouts. Hmmm. Then why put bows and tags on them and put them out for Xmas morning. I made the mistake of asking about it and was slammed down. I remember that Christmas being scared to say or do anything that would risk displeasing my mom.

One holiday I received a puppet. My brother got a computer (at that time a simple computer was about $3000).

One holiday I received a fake Barbie. My brother got a shitload of gifts.

Now we were poor so I never asked for anything. Did this mean to my parents figured they didn't have to give me anything? I irritated me that my brother was always whining for stuff - which he got. Meawhile we ate oxtail soup, marrow from the dog bones my mom would get from the butcher to make soup, rabbit, and horsemeat. Mom sacrificed to put clothes on our back. But my brother asked for everything and usually got i

I always felt like she didn't even want me. When I was older she told me how she had to give up a promising career as a commercial artist. Was I the reason? Was I unplanned? Did she resent my presence? I sure felt that. It would certainly explain the difference in the manner she treated my brother and I. Where as I seemed to draw bitterness, my brother's existence seemed to bring her joy. There was another thing I felt might be the reason for her hate in me...... trauma.