My life was a chain of events attached together by the strings my mother knotted together. There was no control. No substance to anything I did. My emotions were cut off from my actions. A puppet hanging off strings directing my body towards a man or a social gathering.
There was always something to prepare for. As a child always meeting new people, crowded by those commenting on my grace or my stature. Or just commenting to be associated with me and my family.
Family, please. Family is treatment of loyalty and intimacy towards the ones close to you. The loyalty was there, just the intimacy was missing. Mother-daughter relationship ceased to exist in my world.
My dresser was filled with useless accessories of expensive makeup and hair products that were never used. Yet she believed they were necessary for face value. Whatever other mother decided to pop in for a spot visit as if we were on display in a mental asylum.