Warped Memory?

Today Cheyenne had soccer practice.  Bright and early she had called my mother to see if she was going to go watch her.  It was her last practice so she wanted her to come watch.  My mom agreed.  I felt another awkward event coming on.

At the practice I stood next to my mom while Joe stood was a few families down. I am not sure why I stood next to her. I really do not get along with her that well.  Maybe it's because she was there alone and my dad didn't show up with her, I don't know.  Maybe it's because she's my mom and I just felt obligated.

We were talking about many different things and she ended up asking me if I was aware of an incident about one of Austin's substitute teachers accusing him of cheating on a test. I had not heard this.  Supposedly he had his notes on the floor behind his desk not where he would've even been able to see them while a test was being taken.  Long story short, this happened this last week while he was with his dad and I'll be working it out with him to make a visit to the school to talk about this. Austin is a honest, excellent student and I would hate for him to be labeled in this sort of way of he wasn't cheating.

The topic changes when my mom asks me if I remember a similar incident when I was on elementary school when a peer I despised told the teacher I had an open book. My mom recalled I had already finished my test and I had gone back and looked in my book to make sure I had an answer right and I was accused of cheating.  She also recalls it was a big deal because I could've gotten kicked off the cheerleading squad.  I didn't have a dishonest bone in my body. 

I told my mom I didn't remember this situation and told her I must have mentally blocked out all of that period of my life because I hated it so much.  I do remember coming home crying many times from the bullying I would endure.  Bullying was not a fashionable word back in those days.  It was just kids being mean to each other.  And it was private Catholic school.  You would think it would've been better because families that send their kids to Catholic school in fact, uphold Catholic and Christian values at home, right? That they teach their kids to be kind to others and not mistreat others, right? Pffft.

I was not the popular kid and I got picked on a lot by several boys and girls.  I was picked on for my eyes because they would cross and my hair, and whatever else they could find.  I was not a fighter and I don't remember ever fighting back.  I was scared of being in more trouble if I did fight back. I remember telling teachers and nothing would change.  I remember telling my mom and she would never do anything.  I told my mom how I remember coming home crying and begging to be taken out of that school and put in public school but she always laughed it off. 

I find it hard to believe something I was so traumatized by as a child, is not acknowledged by my own mother.  I know for a fact I remember coming home right after school and crying at the kitchen table while I did my homework about what had happened during the day (many times) but apparently my mom recalls nothing of this and even went as far as to think I made this all up?!?!  Are you freaking kidding me?  Whose memory is failing them here?   Could she seriously not recall any of this? Or did she ignore me so much that she honestly thinks this never happened?  Sure I had a couple friends, friends I valued more than anything back then. Again, we weren't the popular kids but we were good kids.  We did not treat anyone badly or pull people's hair or called people names.

Anyway.

About half way through practice Joe went and sat in the car.  At the time I knew he walked off but I didn't notice I had a text from him.

"Not sure if I upset you but honestly I was not prepared for you to sit next to your mother over me. Your mom treats you like shit and I treat you good but yet you stand next to her. Thanks again for making me feel worthless"

When I got back to the car and saw the message and immediately apologized.  He does treat me good - he comforts me repeatedly when it gets to the point that my mom has brought me to tears over stupid shit and I actually do not know WHY I would choose to stand next to her. 

WHY?

It's been a little over an hour and we are still not speaking. This happens sometimes and ironically when its situations involving my mother and things she has said or done to disrupt my family.   I need to be more conscious of MY family unit and to hell with everyone else that threatens our peace.