Monday, November 22, 2010


hate–verb (used with object) 1. to dislike intensely or passionately; feel extreme aversion for or extreme hostility toward; detest

I was raised NOT to hate. I raise my children the same way. Hate is such an extreme word not to be used lightly. I guess I am a contradiction though because as hard as I try I cannot come up with another term for how I feel. My mother's live-in (nicest term) is a mean spirited, horrible man. He's jealous of me and my brother, always has been. I cannot wrap my brain around that one. He harasses her every week about her coming down to watch my children while I work. He cusses her and calls her names, especially when she's on the phone. The ENTIRE time she is here he calls and gives her hell. I'll call home to check on my sweet babes and she'll sound terrible. Usually she'll end up crying. She doesn't get a moments peace. He refuses to buy her soda's or meats. Today I had to give her a bag of sugar because he refused to buy more. He makes her turn in receipts if he does pay for something, but he acts all psycho before he gives in and buys it. Even her medications.  I could go on all day. It sickens me. My eye is starting to twitch just thinking about it. He HAD cancer, about 15 years ago. He got it while he was serving time for beating and choking her in front of my grandmother. Why my mom waited on him to get out is beyond me. I digress, she took excellent care of him. She waited on him hand and foot. She worked, paid for everything, cleaned, cooked, ran him all over to his appointments. He was no easy patient. His nurses often disliked him. He' d cuss them and be mean. My mom always intervened and stood by his side. That was quite nauseating. Honestly, I prayed for Cancer to take him. I felt/feel he deserved to suffer and slowly die. He's a debt to society. He's blackness and evil. Instead, Cancer reared it's ugly head and took a dear, sweet, wonderful aunt of mine. Irony? He survived and thrived, it's hard to take out evil. He still often gets sick, and due to the location of the Cancer, lost all his teeth. Now he is much, much thinner so he no longer hits my mother. Good thing too, now that I am an adult I would call the cops. Actually, I have once before. Now he uses power ($$) and words to abuse and cause misery. I've done everything in my power to get her to leave. Now that Fernando is gone (they didn't see eye to eye) I've asked her to move in. Nope! The kids would get on her nerves too much ~ understandable. They are small, noisy, argumentative, and non stop wigglers. I've put her on the waiting list for income based apartments since she can no longer work.  Meanwhile, while I wait I can't help but hate. I fantasize about telling him I feel about him. I don't because I was raised not to be disrespectful to my elders. So I am polite. It takes all I have in me to do so, but I am. It would be so satisfying to tell him I hate him. I pray for Cancer to come back and slowly make him suffer. When my mom called to tell me that he was in the E.R. possibly having a heart attack that I smiled. I want him out of her life, he doesn't deserve her. I won't ever get to say those words. I love my mother. She would never hear the end of it. Until she gets out I wait with baited breath, longing to release all the hate I have built up over the years. Does that make me just as evil? Is my hate justified?  My hate is so powerful and big. I pray about it. Yet I also pray for him to leave this world. I don't like feeling this way, nor am I proud of it. Hate for him consumes me. Toxic. Always there. Bitter like bile. I swallow it up for my mother. I love her.