Meet the Queen of Hearts

Meet the Queen of Hearts

I was born 34 years ago to a mentally ill mother, and a brow-beaten father. They have been together over 35 years. My mom was the queen of Hearts, when she got her way things were great, but when she didn't  it was off with her head.

One of my earliest memories of her craziness was when I was about 6. I played with her new makeup, and broke her blush. Then with a smile on her face she asked me to bring her my favorite toy. I brought her my "my child" doll. I loved this doll, she had dark hair,a yellow dress, a fuzzy body and special shoes so she could stand on her own. I gave her to my smiling mother. She took my beloved dolly, told me that I broke something of hers, so she was going to break something of mine. She tore my doll apart, pulled off her head, arms and legs, she hacked away at her with scissors, she cut her hair off, her shoes into tiny pieces, and shredded her beautiful yellowdress, then tossed her in the trash. I wasn't allowed to be angry or upset with my mommy, So I bit my arms until I bled. That was how I learned to cope with any type of emotion that might set my mom off.

I would harm myself in order to not hurt her, she would get upset when I was emotional.

That incident was probably not the first time I hurt myself, but its one of my most vivid from my childhood.

I can vaguely remember, pulling out my hair at a younger age, 2 or 3 maybe..

That was the first of many lessons I learned from my mom.