The Monster Under My Bed

First let me say that I don’t have a whole lot of opinion about the Casey Anthony trial.  If it hadn’t been televised 24/7 I probably wouldn’t know who she was.  But now that I do…

All this got me thinking about how people don’t really want to ever accept that the monster under the bed could be a little girl or boy’s mommy.  Sure, it’s easy to pick on the dads.  I’m sure it’s much more statistically significant and there’s that whole 9 months in the womb thing.  But it happens.  Hamsters eat their young and mommies abuse their kids.

It’s been strange and somewhat surreal to watch everyone point the finger at Ms. Anthony.  I hear a whole lot of “kill her” and whatnot, and not a whole lot of what the hell made her this way.

In the end, I guess all I want is to understand my own mother.  Like if I could study this woman I’d have the answers.  That all abusive moms are cut from the same rancid cloth.  But if I could, just for a little while, I’d trade places.  I’d stand confident and sure in my anger and hatred and demand justice for all the little girls and boys out there who are hurt by the ones who are supposed to be guaranteed to love and protect unconditionally.  I wouldn’t care about the reasons and sob stories.  I wouldn’t need a confession or an apology.

Peace.

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