Boo Who?

“…she really almost died, was closer than not to death…because they had no qualms over torturing her to death…”
(a statement made by a detective to me over the phone this morning about Boo…)

It was times such these that prompted the creation of my blog to begin with…because I have ZERO support in the harsh real-time of everyday Real Life and was at my wit’s well tattered end, and desperate to relate to somebody (ANYBODY!) in regard to my tragic experiences in motherhood. So…with that being out of the way and written, I am once again: thrown abruptly into that very desperation for support.
My daughter has been hospitalized in Arizona; with injuries and occurrences that proved newsworthy (see previously posted article here). She had surgery this morning on her arm (broken in two places) and remains in the ICU at the hospital at present. The most heartbreaking part about her current status of “safety” is that it is as good as wasted on her; she will disappear once more from trauma recovery in the hospital – she ALWAYS does…it will not be long before she finds herself in a newly created but eerily similar situation – it NEVER is when she is left to her own devices, whatever those may consist of, anyway.
For ME – a surviving victim of a near-death throat slashing that ended years of sadistic torture and domestic captivity, intentionally CHOOSING to return to an environment that even holds the slightest possibility for the unfolding of oppressive or violent events is unfathomable and incomprehensible. When removed from the role of her fierce and worried mother, the lack of any lessons learned from handfuls of horrible circumstances Boo has miraculously survived so far becomes haunting. My inability to relate to her thinking or motivations grows by the day and, in turn, so does my dislike for the character she owns. I was almost murdered by her father – I came very close to being murdered successfully by his own hand…but, this was the crux of many unspeakable physical injuries and sexual assaults that I had endured throughout our marriage – it was my own boiling point that is inevitable for any “battered woman” who is hostage to a violent sadist. I saw it coming. I knew it had been looming overhead when it was. I had various emotional attachment elements that I allowed to narrow my thinking and ability…Boo knew her most recent abuser just a few days…
And again, here I am right back at that loss for any figment or thread of understanding…my chest feels hollowed out anew…my struggles feel so in vain…my only child defines a testimonial mockery of my own survival and ongoing recovery from torturous violence and evil (who so happened to be Boo’s father). The contrast between Boo and I in the presence of any self-preservative behaviors is so starkly sharpened that I wait for it bleed me dry.


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Americana Injustica


32 thoughts on “Boo Who?”

  1. A line an old lecturer of mind just came to mind: two boats in a defiant and wild ocean side by side. Both are sinking. You can’t blame yourself for another’s sinking. Simply because someone doesn’t want to save themselves, doesn’t mean we blame ourselves or try to understand their apathy. The fact is. Some swim, and some don’t. Those that don’t, drown – and it’s a selfish demonstration that there was no such thing as peripheral vision. Or hind sight.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. you are more than welcome…I get the pain of a child who does what seems like a replay of our own existence; and that doesn’t make sense. I think though, if she is anything like her Mama, strength wise, she will find her way out xo

        Liked by 1 person

  2. ((hugs)) for you
    and prayers for Boo.

    It’s not much but I, too, was still in full-on self-destruct mode at 18. Including an incident where my hands were crushed and all I did was find someone with left-over prescription pills to eat like candy. There is hope for her and for you.

    My guess is, based on me, that she doesn’t feel she’s worth preserving. But the simple fact that she refused to sell drugs for that inhuman monster shows some little, tiny spark of self-will and self-love. She’s still alive after that torture and that strength, I am sure, she got from you.

    I would also suggest that you consider al-anon as a possible IRL support group. It’s one of few places I have found people who understand what it is to love someone who seems to hate life.

    I wish I knew how to offer better comfort and support. I feel my words are inadequate in the face of that much pain.

    My heart is with you (and her).

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You are a wonderful person for taking the time to write this…I feel hopeless…but I thank you for your comforting words of hope for Boo. All my love to you honey for your past struggles, and the victory you defined by simply writing it to me, HUGS

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I can’t figure out how to just post a picture for a reply so here’s a link to a post with the picture in it. It’s a quote on hope which has kept me alive when all else was lost. The more hopeless it seems, the harder it is to feel hopeful, the more powerful your hope is. Sometimes hope is an awfully thin thread to cling to. But if there is one gift I can you and Boo, let it be hope. You are a beautiful soul and deserve as much.

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  3. she is a teen ager. she is aldo 18. which means, she is neither. she does not have the protections of teens, who we know go thru crazy shit periods. she is seen as an adult, but she has no experience, no insight, into what an adult is. she is in a very dangerous place. i hope she decides soon that she IS worth something, is worth SAVING and FIGHTING for. And is intrinsically valuable.

    for you, i’m so sorry for what you must be going thru. no matter how far away she is from you (as a daughter, or just physically far away) you will always feel her pain, always be ready to be the Mama Lioness to protect her, and feel helpless and hopeless when you can do nothing. and i know that feeling too.

    but it is up to her now. she knows you are always there. when she decides she is worth saving, she knows where to go. let’s hope she realizes soon that she is valuable and not trash, and starts living instead of trying to die.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I continue to keep both of you in my prayers and thoughts. I keep hoping that your “prodigal” returns one day knowing fully where she belongs and to your heart so full of love and compassion for her. May she one day open up the eyes hidden deep within that confused, wandering soul looking for her own place in this world. I don’t know why the government doesn’t realize that age doesn’t guarantee the ability to make “Adult” decisions or understand those consequences. My experience with the foster and juvenile system brings me into a rage at times, but I’ve learned to not expect “responsibility” from any government agency or employee and to be pleasantly surprised when anything they touch actually turns out well or safe.
    We can’t ever give up on our own, nor can we ever stop loving them or getting hurt when they hurt themselves, so we push forward and hope and pray it’s them calling to come home when we get the next call.
    And we keep waiting, hoping and praying through the tears.
    I wish you blessings of strength, my dear Friend, lots of strength through this. Sending big virtual hugs ᕙ(💓▿💓)ᕗ


      1. I want to tell you. Um..I am praying for that you guys can heal. To forgive these evil bastards, somehow. So the hate that they spread, dies. The people who hurt you guys are sick. I have been hurt before too. It took a really long time, to forgive folks like this. In my experience those who cause such damage, finally find themselves completely alone, in a cell or otherwise, and have nothing to aim their evil at but themselves. It is screwed up. The person who hurt me, commited suicide. Tho it might bend your mind, I forgive him, and still pray for him, and one day, I plan to plant a tree for him, because he is in an unmarked pauper’s grave. Forgiveness kills hate. I feel for you guys. I do not mean to preach or anything, just sharing my experience which is much easier to say in words, than actually do. Peace.


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