I finished gnawing on my breakfast, while watching something on my phone, while waiting for Icik to return from the poultry vendor.
But my mind wander somewhere else while doing such.
I remembered about my past, and once again, about things happening during my childhood.
I'm really aware now that it's a big personal issue for me about abandonment.
My mom, who else if it's not about her.
The first thought is about the motorcycle that's currently parked at the side of the store terrace.
I keep the keys on the fridge beside me, while I seated on a blindspot if you see it from the street.
I don't know why I'm thinking about it while dozing off.
But I said internally, will I be able to catch a thief sneaking to grab the keys and made run of it?
Then it glimpsed on me, this scenery is pretty familiar.
I once did.
She, with whatever inside her mind, did that once on Sunday somewhere in the past few months before her last grand exit to Bali, which, also occurs on Sunday.
I heard her stopping on the front of the store, I heard the stopping machine resounded from behind the door.
And she pauses for a few seconds before starting her motorcycle again and make a U-turn toward somewhere.
I don't know why, but I quickly jolted from my seat, opened the door, and chased her barefooted.
I managed to grab the backseat bar handle and stopped her.
It's a scene yes, but it was not a first.
Long before, back in my childhood.
A similar scene did happened.
I was 10, and she left me without reason while I'm still preparing myself. No reason no nothing, she just said previously that today's we're commuting with public transportation to A'i-po's place, so you prepare and then we go together. That's all. But she left suddenly without word of explanation.
The panicked chubby kid me, ran likey life depended on it to chased her. It's already 150 metres away from home when I caught her. I don't care that I'm buck naked at that time.
A question came to mind.
Why?
Why my mother is a neglecting mother, and an impulsive expert at it.
And why she is happy by choosing the abandoning card.
And lo and behold how it haunts me to this very day.
I'd be lying and a scam if I say I'm okay about it.
And I'll be a pathological liar to say that I can make peace with it easily and to forgive her for what she had done all of these years.
It's hard
It's painful
It's upsetting
And it sure never pleasant, nor a good childhood dreams come true.
It's horrible and it's a nightmare.
And I'm in pain about it.
Can you imagine how I feel?
Ask me then,
Do I hate her?
Not really, but it will be a lie to say that I didn't hate her at all, maybe a tiny little piece of hatred
But rather than hate, it will be more fit to say that I'm angry.
Do I continuously hate her?
No, only when the same thing and experience took place yes, but after that, I'll manage, I hope so.
Let us not forgetting her busying herself with cooking and she completely forgotten about the 1 years old me, walking all over using a baby walking cradle. She tied a string on the cradle and that's all.
The cradle flipped and a big stone turn into a pillow for my head to nest.
That's the mom that I know all about in my whole 34 years + 10 days.
And that's how painful it is to imagine how that impacts me with some intense years living with her under one household.
If Nana can say about her waiting for some plus hours after school until it's almost dark.
I'm not going to belittle her scar, but that's technicalities issue, they forgot about her due to misscomunication.
And maybe on her life, too, some similar experience did occurred to her from our mother's retrospective side.
But for me, mostly, more often than not, was done on purpose. She is completely aware of what she did and why she done that.
I shared a clip to Nana on IG some days ago.
A clip from Southern Thailand, a kid crying asking for something and his parents(perhaps, it's an older male), turned a filter on IG, and recorded the reaction.
It's a scary ghost thingies. And he did that to make the boy behave, by scare the sh*t out of this child.
As I translated their dialogue to Nana, that goes like this:
M: male(adult)
B: boy
The boy is asking something in local dialect, it's inaudible for me.
But what's clear to my ear is, when the phone's screen pointed to him, and the boy saw the scary ghost filter appearing behind him.
He uttered glua (scary, or simply 'I'm afraid in Thai)
M: here, greets them first.
B: sawadee krub (shaking with scared teary expression)
M: will you keep being naughty again?
B: No, I will not dare anymore...
M: Hah?
B: no, I won't do it again.
All the time the boy's eyes was glued to the screen due to fear.
Nana is absolutely against the use of fear inducing treatment to discipline kids.
So I know how bad and awful it took place on her.
My point of re-quoting this is,
For the purpose of this story:
As you may or might not know already, I was (how do I say this?), rather unique, or different.
Without claiming to be special, I will blatantly explain, that my very eyes, can see supernatural beings.
It's the normal days for my kid me, to be able to see ghost.
Not because it's a paranormal activity occasion or a jumpscare situation.
If there is a ghost in the room, even if they aren't really trying to make themselves visible, I can see them.
Maybe that's why blood, gore, and some scary stuff no longer shake me.
It's pretty normal occurrence for me to see some bloddy or ghastly spectre.
I am completely unaware that what I saw is not visible to other, not until 6.
I thought it's normal for people to crawl on the floor with no leg from knee down, I thought it was normal for an eyeball to suddenly pop off from the socket.
That's until 6.
The kid that play with me in this new house, looks like some western kid, and while we play, his left eye fall from the socket. And yes, you bet, white and fat maggots crawling everywhere. And yes, you bet, I screamed to the top of my lungs.
Now, it's 7 or 8th years of age. And I was showering late at night.
My dad's still not returned home yet, Nana is already asleep in the bedroom.
And mom's is downstairs in the pantry, I don't know doing what.
But what I know, a face, gruesome face appeared behind the windowsill on the far end of the bathroom, it's the 2nd floor, and this face grinned scarily.
I quickly screamed calling for mom. "Mommy, mommy," but nobody answered, and she is nowhere to be found.
What I met is, the 1st floor lights was switched off, and she is sitting on the pantry, in the complete dark, with her eyes staring me, trying to scare me, unabated, completely still, as of she's not the mom I know.
And what you seen from the dialogue in the translated IG clip took place.
"Mommy, mommy, I'm sorry," etc. etc. I recalled saying to her.
And she make her voice sounds heavy to bring further fear.
Yes, as a child, I'm afraid of ghost, because I can see them all the time.
And old Chinatown in Padang is something else, they are everywhere becase there's plenty of old building, some centuries old shrines and so on.
The mom that I know, is some happy go lucky and abandoning mother.
She cared for her feelings as if she's the only victim, but completely unaware of any pain she caused her 3 kids.
And when things turned sour, she is very quick to have an affair, instead of turning to God.
This is no longer a humanitarian issue, nor a psychological issues.
It's only an issue due to nonexistent personal relationship with the One True God, not the imaginary superpower faraway land deity we tend to picture from heating church bench diligently on Sunday morning.
If Christianity only stopped until the end of onlygping to church, paying tithes, praying before and after sleep and before eating. It is not real.
The Jesus that such people know are only the Jesus from Nazareth, who feeds 5.000 men on the hill with 5 bread and 2 fish, who died on the cross, and ressurected on the third day, and 40 days later ascent to heaven.
That's all, finite.
But no, there is no true power in that kind of Christianity. No life transforming power from Bible reading then on such legalistic lifestyle of so to say "salvation"
But that, is how my parents raised in their church.
And that's the one quick to hell laid waste on earth of a marriage.
And that's the result we so deeply saddened nowadays due to sin groomed to maturity in a marriage of the so called 'Christian' household.
My dad is a heavy smoker, he smoke since the 3rd year of his middle highschool.
He is a well adept porn addict who thing nothing of a woman but an object of fantasy and pleasure, hence he treated my mom as a cow to ride. And make naughty vagabond with his female staffs or colleagues.
Hence he forced his peversion to my mom, and caused all of this peversion to this very end.
And my mom, is selfish and a hidden sexual fantasy addict.
It's quick to say yet easy to proof, due to the tons of Intisari books she so diligently collected in her personal library back in our home in Padang, not less than 40 monthly series, where some voyeur and erotic stories slipped in their monthly release.
How do I know?
Becaus I'm a bookworm myself, and I sure did read everything that had letters printed on it, all in my years living under their household.
So, yes, I read those books I stated, all of it, and got confronted by my dad because I read them for the voyeur and erotic stories, only to be defended by the owner, my mom.
While both are secretly porn addict according to each hobbies, one visual and sensual, one through fantasies.
Now, I'm laying this hidden dirty laundry out, and let you all judge them for me.
It is surely a laughing matter because I'm not better, I got to know porn since my 2nd years of elementary. A friend of Hansen, who becomey classmate in 3rd year, told us about his findings of his dad's porn stash. A VHR, which those kids played and warched to widen their vision of the world.
A things that I so struggle to conquer after my conversion to God. A personal sin that I sweat blood and tears to brought to the cross so it will be conquered through Jesus during my years of knowing God's Word.
If I personally can progress from my wickedness to this not so wicked heart, so much so that words came to life for me and the Jesus from the stories in the Bible suddenly come out from the Bible to lived in me, that I can claim I had a personal relationship with Him, a genuine and original relationship..
That's Christianity is all about and how that's all supposed to be,
But no, how I long for my family to also experiencing the similar joy I had found.
And lo, behold, how 18 years of conversion and personal struggles with God have transformed me, and how 44 years of legalism brought my parents to be how their lifes at present.
One secretly kept his cheating with his second wife stay in touch. How he spent times mostly watch her during he live session, how he only know how to stole money from the cashier.
And the other is happily on vacation in Bali for several months already, completely ignoring this ticking bomb of a marriage.
How can this be, and why is my family isn't like the other God obeying family.
Why does its the children that needs to suffer?
Why must the three of us their kids that is no longer kids, that need to cry our tears out to God in prayer for them, while they're so diligently hurting one another?
Oh why O'Lord?
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