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The July rant and Release Column Evil Stepmother By Mary D.
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I was petrified when I married my husband because he had two children from a previous marriage and
shared custody. It wasn’t the responsibility that frightened me, as much as the fear that I wouldn’t treat
them well. Not that I’m a bad person, you see I grew up with a stepmother whose mantra was, “You’re not
mine to mind.” Not only did she not mind me, as in watch me, protect me, and nurture me, but she was a
classic evil stepmother! My fear was that I might be like Frieda, too. Fortunately, I was not. I guess my
stepmother’s cruelties actually taught me how to be a kind and loving stepparent. Do I wish to thank her?
NO
It is Frieda I want to rant about. I know it is an awful thing, but I have hated this woman since I was six years
old and she burnt my hand on the stove for the first time. You see, I was making too much noise playing
with the refrigerator magnets and Frieda couldn’t hear her soap opera in the den.
My dad married Frieda within a year of my mother’s death. I was six. I wish I could say that my father made
sure that his new bride was good to his only child, but I can’t. Whatever lies Frieda made up about my
burns, bumps, and bruises, he believed. Now that I’m older I realize he was bullied by Frieda himself. No,
I’m not justifying my father’s lack of protection. I recognize his weaknesses, too. That’s a rant for another
day.
Things got harder for me when Frieda had a miscarriage and the doctors told her that she wouldn’t be able
to have children. I was blamed for that. Foolish woman, didn’t she realize I wanted another child in the
house just to get her attention off of me!
Frieda’s cruelties reached new heights. I wish I had had the hotlines, concerned teachers and legally
obligated doctors that children have available to them today. Frieda would have died in jail, instead of in the
comfort of my father’s house. But, her end wasn’t too comfortable, really. You know, I’m a big believer in
Karma. It’s interesting how the cancer consumed her body in all the areas she had scarred mine. I openly
smiled at her funeral when I heard the creaking machine lowering her cancer ridden corpse into the
ground. It was a good day.
Frieda’s been gone for about two years and I’ve just begun therapy. I’ve never broached the thought of
forgiving her, but it does make sense. I’m still giving Frieda control over me by hating her. My hate is just
creating a negative environment for me and she wins once again. This will take some time, but I do get it.
I’m going to work on forgiving the evil stepmother.
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August 2010