On the possibility of my having been poisoned as a child…

When I was four I had a vision, of sorts, that probably helped to keep me alive.  The significance of it to me at that time was that I became convinced I had to protect a Gift I had been given from my mother whom, it seemed, had made some sort of a pact with a dark angel I came to call “Lermontov”,  as it resembled a movie character by that name. I had no doubt my mother was my adversary, but I did not at the time comprehend the extent of her antagonism.

Although a robustly healthy child, I regularly found myself becoming violently sick to my stomach and throwing up.  Ironically, at those time, my mother was conciliatory and sympathetic, bringing me ginger ale with shaved ice and saltines to calm my stomach.  This continued until shortly before I left home for college.  Once I had settled into dorm life, my first thought was how nice it was to be somewhat on my own. My second thought was relief that I was no longer throwing up.  It immediately occurred to me that my mother had probably been behind this, but my relief at having survived was my primary emotion.

Within a few months of this realization my father nearly died by his own hand.  All my attention switched to him.  I did not make the connection until recently, as, subsequent to that event, the rest of my birth family seemed to circle the wagons and lock me out, so to speak, that there could have been a connection. Other questions that I had about my birth family also began to fall into place when I looked at them from the perspective of my birth family trying to shield themselves from the consequences (not of their own actions, mind you) of my having survived this ordeal.  :-0

Update 4.17.21

Since this post was written a lot has taken place.  I spoke to my dear husband about this possibility and his response was, “You remember that?” Of course, I was puzzled, to say the least.  I then told my two younger children of this possibility. I received blank looks.  There were no questions.  There was no concern. Just a chill emptiness.  I did not know what to think. 

It became evident that for whatever reason, protecting my one living birth family member from being held accountable for their part in this terrible situation was more important than showing any concern for me. 

At that point I began to step back.  The Corona pandemic provided an extension of what I had already decided to do.  

Now I see the situation from a different perspective.  I have had the courage to ask, “What if it didn’t stop?” I don’t like the answers that come to me, but accepting the truth is always better in the end.  

Update June 9, 2021

There has been a veritable flood of information coming at me for the last few weeks. Most stunning is the realization that these odd coincidences possibly connecting Bob Dylan’s family and mine are not that at all.  Instead, this may consist of ‘inside information’ from a member of my family that made its way to Dylan’s people.  Even more astonishing is the possibility that this may have been going on for a long time…perhaps even back to when Dylan appeared on the scene in New York.  What could possibly be the reason for this, I wondered?  It has been, at the very least, a betrayal, but to what end?  I puzzled over this until the lyrics of one of Dylan’s songs came to mind…Jokerman…whose features could have been carved out by Michaelangelo…dancing to the nightingale tune…

Jokerman

Whoa Nelly, I said to myself…could Dylan be hinting at my father’s ignoring my mother’s terrible behavior toward me?  Is he giving his insiders information about what happened in that house? Where would that possibly come from?  My family members have all been in lockstep to shut me down whenever I mention what happened in that house, and here is a complete stranger telling the world — or at least his ‘insiders’ — about this?  

And then, another possibility occurred to me — that Dylan’s people had somehow obtained a pilfered copy of my manuscript Titan, from Piper to the Alternative.  The heroine’s middle name is Philomela — which means nightingale.  Her father, Dorian, is as handsome as Dorian Gray, and as ignorant and selfish…

This opened up an entirely new kettle of fish, so to speak…

Jokerman appeared on the scene in 1983. The only adversary I am aware of who had access to my early drafts of Titan in the late 70’s, was my ex-husband, a bass player in the Minnesota Orchestra, whom I call “Monostatos”…

Was that what had happened, if that is the case? 

Stay tuned, as this is becoming curiouser and curiouser…

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