Some things just don't get forgiven...

I watched the opening credits of a movie tonight with trepidation, not really sure why. Turns out it was "The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood." As soon as I read those words, my unease grew deeper. I have a friend who likes to refer to her, myself, and our mutual girlfriends as the "Ya Ya Sisterhood" and that's never sat well with me, though I have never been sure why.

After watching for a few minutes, I suddenly remembered the first time I'd seen this movie. My son was only two years old and if you've seen the movie, you know there's a scene where one of the main characters, who it turns out was suffering a mental breakdown, severely beats her children with a belt, though they'd done nothing wrong. (This on the heels of deserting them time and time again with no explanation.)

I will never forget that scene because it was so unexpected. when I first saw it, I was completely engrossed. Terribly, I hadn't realized that my baby had come in to the room and also watched the mommy beating her babies in the pouring rain, for no reason, while they screamed at her to please stop.

Ezequiel became hysterical and I felt so horrible that I'd been so engrossed in a movie that I hadn't realized he was there to witness the terrible scene. He kept asking why the mommy had been so mean and telling him it was only make believe did very little to relieve his terror.

I have reflected on that moment many times over the years, though until tonight, I hadn't remembered the name of the movie. I suppose if I had remembered, I'd of felt I understood why my friend referring to us as the Ya Ya Sisterhood had bothered me... but as I watched the entire movie, I realized that wasn't the reason.

That movie, a good part of it, is the story of my childhood. Growing up with a crazy, self absorbed mother who was angry at the world, and most especially her children, for keeping her from whatever dream life she felt had been intended for her.

I'd never noticed until tonight that the crazy mother's three children were two girls and the youngest, a son, the exact same make up as my family. I'd never noted before that the oldest daughter took the brunt of the abuse, trying unsuccessfully to protect her younger sister and brother - who, in the end, took as much of it as anyone.

The scene that did my head in tonight wasn't the scene of the mother beating her babies, terrible as it was. It was the daughter saying as an adult, after having her mother's absence finally explained to her (the mother was committed), "I am adding it all up in my head... all the money I spent on therapists trying to figure out what it was that I did wrong." (I haven't cried that hard in a very long time. It was quite unexpected.)

Sometimes Hollywood really should leave well enough alone. Not all of us get the celebrated epiphany that results in the wronged receiving heart wrenching apologies, the "I'm so sorry" speech and hugs all 'round, everything is forgiven, and we'll all just live happily ever after now. Although, in my case, like in the movie, I did get the "you are now disinherited" notification with regards to the crazy mother's Last Will... useless though in my case, since I'd been asked to disinherit myself years before and had gladly done so.

Life is not a movie and much as we'd like, and perhaps even believe we deserve it, we don't always get a happy ending... that's just not the way it works. For some of us, the nightmare just continues year after year and no matter what mature kind of action we take, in the end, we simply end up right back where we started.

It is ironic that what initiates the stroll down "nightmare lane" in the movie is that the daughter has given an interview to the press about her horrible childhood. Of course, Hollywood got that one wrong, too, at least in the case of how this movie relates to my personal story.

Nope, sorry, Hollywood, sometimes our parents are simply no damn good and sometimes they really do deserve our contempt, our hatred even - because that's just how life is and it isn't always pretty.

My revenge will be to try my very hardest to never put myself, and most especially my petty desires, before the welfare of my child. Children are blessings and gifts to be cherished, loved, and nurtured. That is my commitment to my son.