I understood pain and hurt (1)

 

I like the quotes that was written above… it is who I am today.

I had the privilege to listen to a dear friend out pour of the pain and hurt that had gone passed… The person asked me one question how come you can overlooked all the pain and hurt and laughed it off… I answered coz it is not worth dwelling upon it. There were many pains and hurts I had gone thru to be able to laugh it off and move on.

I decided to pin this down before I grow old and forgot all about them.

At a very young age, I understood pain and hurt from my own mother. Being uneducated and the youngest daughter, she didn’t have the means to read and know how to be a good mother. There is no one to guide her or teach her to nurture her own children. To add the matter worse she was the youngest in the family. She was doted and like a little princess she didn’t have to go through hardship  to obtain the things that she wanted. Everything was easily given to her, all she needed to do was asked.

Thus when she was match made to be married to my dad, she expected a comfortable life and didn’t need to worry about money. Dad made sure he was about to provide for the family… he worked extremely hard to make sure that she had a comfortable life and she did. Until I came into the picture.

Dad had to work even harder to provide for the future expenses. Save as much as he could, spend as little as he could to prepare for my arrival.

I didn’t  gave my mom a easy pregnancy, I was a difficult baby she had quite a bad 1st trimester could eat much. Dad had to travel distant and I mean distant cos Singapore wasn’t really developed then to get her the cravings that she had. Dad did all these to help ease her pregnancy.

When the day I was supposed to be born it was discovered that my head was in wrong position thus gyna had no choice but to do a C-section. She had a really had a difficult road of recovery. She felt helpless and clueless on how to take care of infant. Dad decided to engage a confinement lady to help her. I remember dad telling me that he had to rush home during his lunch hours to see if I was well taken care of.

Fast forward to few years later when I was slightly older maybe 3-4 years old. I always love toys, those tiny army soldiers, cars, tanks etc. I always wanted to get more coz they were so interesting and they came in different countries. I wanted them coz they are my only companions, I was the only child then I didn’t have a younger siblings that I could play with thus I would play by myself and entertain myself. I remembered every time I asked for a new toy I would without fail be beaten up quite badly in public. No explanation. No reason. Just straight away beaten up and dragged home… Till date the memory still hurts and pains me.

Dad would always surprised with those toys on the weekend… they were my prized processions.

I loved to display all my tiny soldiers and place them all over the living room in our 2rm rented flat in Toa Payoh. I would pretend that I was the chief commender and commended the troops to attack and destroy the enemies. Every time when I done playing with them I would love to sleep in the middle of all my tiny soldiers like they were my good friends to accompany me to sleep. Without fail I was either scolded or caned for not keeping my toys. No explanation no reason.

The beating continued so long as I am naughty or disobey or didn’t fall into the so called expectations of my mother. I hated the beatings. I grew more and more bitter against her I vowed one day I will be strong and defend myself against such beatings. As I grew older whatever I knew I was going to be beaten I would run straight away to snatch the cane before she could lay hands on it , I would hide and lock in my parent’s room for hours. She would coax me to come out and I initially thought I wouldn’t be beaten. I was wrong the beating continue. This go on for weeks and I knew there was no point of hiding since I would be beaten anyway. I figured that I should face the beating and whether it happens I would snatch the cane and break it and threw them away. It worked for awhile before she bought even more canes in case I decided to do that she would have backups.

In the end she gave up and decided to grab anything that she could lay her hands on brushes, brooms, small stools… I was physically abused by my own mother. There was this incident that the broom was broken after a few times of beatings. Wow my skin had became tougher… hahahaha.

Dad was always busy working hard that didn’t really know why I always got bruises and cane marked. He only knew I was naughty that why I was beaten up so badly. He trusted my mom.

The beating lessen after my sister was born. She was too busy taking care of her to be bothered with me.

Till this day it hurts really bad to recall those memories, even though I had tried to forgive her of her shortcomings. It stings very deeply in my heart.

I ever wonder why I was born to be abused by my mother… wouldn’t it be better if I wasn’t born in this world… If not for my dad’s love I would probably ran off somewhere and live by my own.

I always envy my friends’ moms that they took so good care of them. Had home cooked food. Had love showered upon them. I don’t remember have a decent cooked food. Most of the time, canned food or the same old food repeated again and again.

What a childhood… it made me stronger.

Thank you for being my mother still… I wasn’t a easy child to be taken care of anyway. You had a difficult time trying to bring me up as your 1st one.