Conditioned To Suffer

She depends on our fear. Fully aware of the panic and anxiety that she causes, she toys with you;
"*Sam, you still driving that old ass car?"
Saying this knowing full well that she is the direct cause of his financial state.

She did the same thing to me that she did to my little brother *Micky. She convinced him, a tall handsome man, that he is ugly. How and why would any woman call her son ugly repeatedly? She drilled it into his head, into our head. She mistreated him, so we mistreated him. We mistreated each other, to this day we are no more than polite strangers that share a very dark secret. Our mother is a horrible demon masquerading as a minister of the Gospel. World you are in for a shock. Be careful who you allow up in your churches, up in your pulpit. Practice discernment.

Speaking of ugly, she had a string of the most hideously ugly repugnant men and women I have ever seen. She did these despicable things then turned around and took it out on us. She demands to keep us in this fantasy world that she built around herself. In her mind, She is the most beautiful, the fairest of them all, She is the smartest, the richest, the wisest. She is the Godmother. She grants all wishes and dashes all dreams. You will not have a lover or significant other. You will not have peace in your house. She keeps her house "dressed" while "rooting" yours. She will feed you her laced food while she dumps yours in the garbage.

She did despicable things then turned around and took her guilt out on us.

I was looking at her looking at me and she was looking at me looking at her. It was like some primitive dance, we walked slowly in a circle. It was a contest, who was going to be the first one to flinch, to blink? I think I must have lost. Fear will betray you.

Now over forty-one years later it is difficult to remember what I actually thought, what I really knew.

I do remember the excruciating pain. I do remember sinking into a strange black hole.

She called me in Atlanta. I was still in the bed. I don't know why I was still sleeping at ten a.m. I must have been out the night before, or just trying to exert some form of independence because She rarely let you sleep past six a.m. in her house.
"Get Up! Get Up!!! Get your muthaf****** asses UP! Get the F*** UP!"
Many times we got up for no apparent reason. The dishes were washed, the house was clean. There were no flowers to be weeded. There was nothing to do. So She would come up with bizarre tasks like:
"Wash dem f****** walls!"
Always too cheap to buy the proper cleaning agents she would make us use some strange concoction that only made the matter worse. Dutch cleanser and vinegar. She would not let us use old rags.
"Use dat f***** newspaper Nigga! You stupid muthaf*****." Why would anyone in their right mind want to use old newspapers to wash baseboards and walls? Don't argue with a fool, just do it was my solution to her insanity.

Now I know that She was making us pay for some horrible sin that was haunting her. She had probably been out "lesbian-ing" or prostituting.

Well to this day I have a problem with getting up early on a Saturday morning.

The ringing of the phone disturbed my peaceful rest. I lived in a very swank apartment overlooking the Chattahoochee River in Smyrna.

My "Hello" was weak and raspy.

"Gwen! Your daddy (not granddaddy) just blow-e-e-ed! his Heart OUT!!! He killed hissef!"

My very first thought was;'She did it! She did it! The bitch finally killed him!' Everything else that happened was like a dream. I couldn't cry, I couldn't talk.

The first thing I did was call my principal to make arrangements for bereavement leave. When I told my principal that my grandfather had just killed himself something deep inside of me told me that I was lying.

Why? Why was I lying? Was I trying to protect her? me? the family name? I know now that it was confrontation. The last thing you ever wanted to do was confront this creature. I had too many bloody memories of pistol whippings, brutal beatings. She bragged too much about her history;
"Hell yea! I stabbed that f****** bitch!...I flushed three of dem muthf*****! down de toilet!"

Yes I was a punk ass, I was scared, I was conditioned.

I rushed to Fayetteville and watched her, I listened. There were no tears. She was quite calm, stately and reserved.

"De police gave me a paraffin test...said dey didn't find no gun power residue."

She volunteered that. It came from nowhere.

It was in the her bedroom, the scene of the murder, where she slipped up.
"See whur your daddy put de gun after he shot hissef in de Heart!"

'After he shot himself in the Heart!!!' My brother, a medical doctor, was standing right beside me. We knew, our eyes locked and we knew.

Why didn't we do anything? Now I know that it was conditioned terror and fear. She thinks it was her mighty "root working".

I am going to tell you again, there is nothing covered that shall not be revealed.

Continue to study your Bible children. Step out on faith. Trust the Living Risen LORD with all your heart.

Be a Blessing and be blessed. "Keep yourself up as much as you can."

Much Love, Peace and Happiness,
Rachel

P.S. "Apart from Christ you are nothing."