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I Was Not Sick, She Was

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It was not until my mid 40s that I put it all together. The humiliation and drama and endless craziness with my mother. You see, my older sister died of leukemia at age 3 when I was 1. 

6 months later I was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis. ( I don't have CF, thats confirmed by genetics and by a full pulmonary workup). 

My mother was a victim of extreme spousal abuse. And she became mentally ill and spent her life telling the story of "me". And how I was so very sick and going to die. ( except I was not so very sick and I was not dying). 

And as I got older, larger, healthier and grew to 6 ft tall, as I reached young adulthood her harassment of me reached a crescendo. 

Its called munchausen by proxy, and I was the proxy. My mother employed my sibs, friends, family to police everything I did to "keep me safe".. 

I am a maverick. I saved myself. ( and yes I had lots of therapy).  I am just now starting to talk about it publically. 

 

A cage not of your making your own expiration date Your mother branded you with it and made you wear it even to date It was announced at family dinners with strangers in the room It was told to every family friend of my own impending doom How it made me feel was not considered not given a meager thought She just had to get that out there because it was important and fraught And then when I grew older and objected she did it on the sly Took aside my companions and injected them with her sick dye I was told I should never have children I was told I should avoid many things in life She colored my world and put me in box and invaded my personal space causing strife Till I ran away across several states and she came to fetch me back And then there was a kind of truce as she knew I could leave and be free And I also knew it, so I worked at emancipating me So she instead worked on my boyfriends filling them full of lies And I stopped bringing anyone home and I lived completely outside And I started a professional life and never again did the two meet and she was not able to control my life again nor even make a peep and then I had some peace. The kicker? I was not sick, she was, but I was too young to know. Artimus 9/23/23 9:25AM (C) Susan Manley

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




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Date: 9/29/2023 12:29:00 AM
You have grown to be a strong person. Well done. A good poem.
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Susan Manley
Date: 9/30/2023 10:31:00 AM
Thanks, this is literally the first time I have written publically about it.

Book: Shattered Sighs