i just finished writing in my journal and thought to reposit here. I woke up with another revelation.. About Marjorie. Mommy Marjorie...and it is more akin to putting a label, a word and description to a story, rather than a revealing or becoming aware of the story. I knew the story. Had talked, written, cried and complained about it. but i had never given it is right and appropriate name.
This morning without effort I woke up and realized it was Betrayal. Marjorie had been betraying me since the day I got here. It started slowly and was quiet, under wraps, behind my back for years before I ever recognized it was happening. And a I just write that I realized that too is the word for what Margaret did to me...when she told the academic who was offering me a job at UWI at the Gender Studies that "i was not ready" without informing, consulting or discussing it with me. Betrayal.
And really as I write, I see it as a holistic din of this place and country: Betrayal
wow. this gets deep. for was that not what Uncle Frankie's brother ( ) did to us, the Baptiste family, to Marjorie, to me when he told Daddy that we were trying to get a lawyer to handle Mommy Marina's estate at the time of her death when she, in her Betrayal to her siblings, sisters and brothers, mainly to Leroy and Marjorie who had been with her from years until...to me, led us all to believe that she had divorced Carl when nothing was further from the truth, allowing him to manipulate me into thinking he would honor me and my word, my legacy, my inheritance, my standing as the last living child of their union and the only child of his family of breadth and depth...to come and seize everything she had left. That should have been mine.
This is blowing my fucking mind. Cause when i started writing I was just thinking of Marjorie to me > Now i see our whole fucking family life is about Betrayal one to another, in all kinds of ways, for all kinds of members, those close, those related, those peripheral, having the power. like Uncle Frankie's brother...i realize i was naming him Frankie and is not. Frankie was the St. Joseph principal of fame, not the wotless brother I speak of
I can talk to my father's betrayal of me. To marry a woman younger than me and bring her into our family home, jostling me out of mine. A woman so scheming she was hired by my mother and set her sights on my father.. She, Cindy, told me that story herself. It is no hearsay. For him to have put all that he owned an inherited from his motherkinfolks: Mother Ruth and Grandmother Gramma Analiza to this Indian woman betraying the hard work the culture, the people, the clan, the blood, the history, destabilizing black women's holding once again. It is never enemies outside, there is no such thing so called. All enemies are family and friends in betrayal, undermining, destroying. So here I sit with nothing, under great persecution by his enemies, deciding to dump all their stuff and baggage and hurt with him onto me..WOW> they really send me. Strong. Back wide . Resilient and Perpetual like Time.
And the perpetuity of the story.
I thought I always knew I came to break family curses. But this is taking it to a whole other level. So this too. This story and consistency of betrayal?? Before that the first curse I thought I came to break was not to be a single unmarried mother. of any number of children, from one, like Marjorie to five like Grannie Ruth. Then I thought i came to break the curse of being subjected to the wiles, destruction and killing of family womenfolk by Carl Huggins, first his mother by bringing Cindy the indian girl into his mothers home -- she grieved herself to death my mother told me.. Then to kill my mother slowly over decades via lupus, the psychosomatic anger turned inwards disease... and its spillover effect onto my brother. He was the sacrificial lamb amidst all these wolves: Lupus, My Mother Marina and Father Carl Huggins.. Carl always saying he never believed Junior to be his son. I actually believe it as a grown woman now. Junior looked like nobody: Not Carl, not Marina, Not any grand parent or uncle or aunt. I neither looked like my father or mother, but I had the stamp of my Grandmother Ruth. is her child I am. with the hair of Maria, my maternal Venezuelan grandmother.
I look like my mother's sisters. and have the face of all Baptiste. Junior. Had nothing. He was still my beloved brother with whom i had a complex, complicated but very close relationship. For that for him I am grateful for his soul. For despite all of that, when he died at boarding school in Pennsylvania and my father and I went for his belongings...His friends came up to me and asked me "If you are Rajah's sister" and when I replied yes, they told me how much my brother loved and talked about me. I promise.. and I am getting the chills, eyes watering as I type...when I get into my home I shall light an altar to him. To have loved me so completely broadly and silently...And his soul attachment since the day he died. And trying to come back to me through pregnancies. The complexity did not end with his death. What does one do with that level of cosmic grandness. I write now and I get the feeling belief, revelation epiphany answer in my soul that it is to use that union, make sense of his togetherness with me to correct so much wrong on this side of the vibrations and divide. WOW
Talk about writing yourself into answers. Beyond curtains, walls and blockages. It might be him, my silent protector in all things. When I fell off that ladder at Trinity. When I was to die in the car on the highway in Tuskegee. That keeps deflecting and minimizing the harm people mean for me.
He has been seeing all since day one When I arrived and before I got on scene. He has been seeing everything since.
Mississippi God Damn
I was just trying to write about Marjorie
how since I landed she started silently backstabbing me. describing and talking of me about me in a negative light---this psychiatric nurse and counselor therapist. The favored aunt of the favored niece, my God Mother!!!
The incidences that i shall never forget...like when i went out behind her to talk and bond and spend time with her as she gardened, and before i could dismount the steps she bouffed and rebuffed me by saying, "I dont need no supervision". I cant express the crush i felt, I had no words. blindsided ..that is it you know. the betrayal was never just betrayal. it was blindsided betrayal that destabilizes you like nothing else does. It is being hit by a mack truck and surviving death. you are dead but walking around conscious wondering what happened, why are you dissociated disassociated. That is what happened to Junior. he died and never knew it. For twenty two or more years he was roaming, with me, as an attachment.
Anyway...the other comment Marjorie made that symbolizes in hindsight the betrayal that was going on undercover...some scene with her office folk at child welfare league and I told her, "i was just trying to look out for you"> The woman tell me "she dont need me to look out for her" yes.
IT is this rebuffing that has characterized her behavior toward me all these years. When I started making money and offered to take care of her as she had done me for four years and she said no, denied me. Under the guise of "save your money and do for self" which was the biggest fucking lie, denial, deceit. Cause in trinidad with moneylaundering and corruption you cant do shit for yourself you can only pool and reinvest in what your previous generation did. Make bigger make better. but to start anew in this twentyfirst millennia. BULLSHIT . how can anyone living here deny that. Unless you fucking stupid and asleep douen. ( * ^ *)
But Selah. It is all now clear
The one woman i was closest to among all others, before all others, after all others. This has been the unfolding. Her behavior created a culture in the family of ostracism, back biting, and betrayal. in cycles. She has allowed people , Neal, to enter into this house to upbraid me in my home. I went to town on his ass. Reach Mars and came back. He was shocked. I threw shit back in his face. He did not know what hit him. Be careful where you trundle and trample. It might be your own face and bed>. And I could not understand her pose and position. What she was allowing. My confusion is now clear. It is when people neither wish you well or protection. When you are their enemy it is that kind of usurping and undermining and deceit and secret that secretes.
But it is mindblowing too. Cause this is the woman that saved me when i was having my nervous breakdown. When my career stalled and choked into nothing. When after the PhD i was destabilized. A great sadness that has never left. A plummet fall that has not ended. Has it? I never fail to look back on that time in 2003 and realize what i needed most was not there. Someone to come on site. I was not thinking right. Beyond needing saving I needed presence. Someone to come and take over. but the landscape was empty and bereft. The best I got was a ticket and a call to come to what was home. Which is another issue. HOME
How i have been lost to what used to be HOME: :Trinidad, Barataria Baptiste, and Tortuga Huggins. I am now a woman without a home, when at a time, I had so many: Three. Brooklyn, Barataria and Tortuga. Amazing eh
The Betrayals are Many
The more I write about one the many spillover, bubble from the pot, squeeze out as I attempt to close the sack
But it is these stories that I must now release and let go. Move on from. These stories I must cease to tell> So i can write new ones. Better ones of Glory, Light, Upliftment and Love
And the daunting thing is: I am to give it to myself!!
Then what stays with me is the proof that there is no purity when it comes to human dynamics and relationships. The one to save you is the one to kill you. There is no pure state
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