The Truth Revealed pt2

Of those who read my emotional piece… ‘The Truth Revealed,’ I wanted to add this…
Well it’s been almost one month since I found out about my birth Mother. I felt I should add a bit more about the effect this new found information had on me after all it’s not every day that you find out that your mother was a prostitute/whore…and your father, nothing more than a sperm donor..

I don’t think I have ever felt so alone, so unwanted and so repulsed. I always knew that I wasn’t wanted enough to keep but I did think, perhaps hope that there might have been the slim chance that she was having a decent relationship where they overdosed on love and affection for each other, perhaps they lay awake at night dreaming of their new born child, of what schools, what clothes and even marriage. The truth that I was actually the result in some sordid fifteen minute sexual encounter actually made my skin crawl. That I was the result in one woman’s desperation to make ends meet and that of one dirty bastards sexual incompetence in being unable to control his revolting sexual desires made me sick to the pit of my stomach. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to hide. I was a mistake. I wasn’t chosen. I wasn’t planned. I wasn’t arranged. I wasn’t wanted. I wasn’t required. I was a mistake. I wasn’t nurtured. I wasn’t loved. I wasn’t part of a dream. I was a bastard who nobody wanted. I wasn’t part of my father’s deprived thoughts and his fifteen minutes of sexual gratification. I was the result of two people’s requirements. Hers was to pay the rent/buy food and his, to release the egoist male testosterone. I felt dirty, unclean, unloved and totally unwanted. I felt like weeping. I didn’t, instead I just smiled. I smiled and embarrassed smile while thinking aloud, ‘well that kind of sounds about right, sort of sums up my life.’
‘How could this sound right?’ I asked myself quietly while walking the dogs through the silence of the woods.
‘Well it fits in perfectly with your life, the way you are, the feelings you possess, the anger you hold and control the fear you accept as part of this journey called life. This all makes sense.’ I whispered. No wonder you have had issues with rejection, separation, abuse, fear, strangers, woman, trust, love, hope and being accepted and understood. No wonder you are alone in a crowded world. No wonder people fear your anger or their lack of understanding as they have never ever had to deal with 1% of your life where you my son have had to deal with 100%. Really I wanted to weep, but perhaps tears of self pity don’t work with me, never have and never will. I only get tearful when people are kind to me. Life has not been kind to me, unless of course this entire broken and unwanted fragmented existence has another purpose other than to break my mind and body into a thousand fucking bits, so others can mock me and others to fear/admire my resilience of the thousand wounds of existence. Perhaps as many God fearing people have too often suggested that ‘God does love but wants you to suffer so you become a better man.’ Really, you really think that do you? That I must suffer so much that suicide is a weekly occurrence and my only true friends that I trust 100% are numbered in there ones and twos and the most reliable companions I have are dogs?’
I then reread the vile tirade of angry abuses from my new found sister (who was four years my senior and never knew I existed) had to say about my birth mother, ‘a chain smoking, lying, cheating, jail bird who cared for nobody and the best thing she ever did was to abandon me’. I got angry, ‘how dare you speak so disrespectfully of your own mother, who at the time of your birth was married and not a prostitute, who after all carried you for nine months and gave you this life that you now possess and own, with your children, grandchildren, husband and relatives.’ I suddenly became my Mothers protector and I will protect vehemently, ‘perhaps if you (my sister) actually tried to understand her pain and suffering then you might be able to let go of sixty six years of anger.’ I was stunned that she felt so badly about this woman, and kept this anger festering away inside her like a rotting cancer of the soul, unable to see beyond her own self importance for just one moment. ‘You got life’ I wrote back ‘and without your so called bitch whore of a mother you would be nothing, be grateful because without her, you and I would not exist.
I tried to explain to myself the sufferings and troubles, the loneliness and fears of this unknown Mother of mine. I felt just sadness and sympathy for her and not one single ounce of anger. Imagine for a moment how her life must have been like, no really, stop for a moment from your busy spoilt lives and just think. Are you any better than her? She was a whore, but there are whores on LinkedIn who will stop at nothing to sell themselves for that extra like or connection, there are whores in the media, in the government and those who happily drape themselves scantily clad emblazoned across the world’s pithy sites and advertising hoardings who happily sell themselves for fame and false fortune. I would prefer to spend time with my mother, my mother the whore, who only made a few shillings to survive this life. No, I am proud of her but trying to explain her to the stupid and ignorant is going to be difficult. Mind you in saying that Jesus hung round with whores/prostitutes.
I have found the truth and the truth hurts. I am wiser for this new found knowledge. I am stronger for this and more able to understand life and the battles some of us undertake. I write this and you read this, there lays our difference. I have done and carried the scars of life and my mother’s life yet I am the stronger person, the wiser the more tolerant and the more forgiving.
So thank you Mother, for the chance of my first breath of life,
I owe you…
Big time…
RIP Kathy Hunter…