Sounds like a cutsie name for a childrens book, but it\"s the title of two separate stories I fall back on at my parent\"s expense.
Anytime someone comes up with a tale of dysfunction from their childhood, I show I understand by telling the tomato chronicles.
You see, I\"ve found humor in what was traumatic and turned that memory into a funny diatribe in my mind.
But to strangers, I get a weird look when I tell of how the chronicles came to be.
The first tale was my parents were fighting, again, and like normal it was loud, hateful words and things being thrown.
My mother lifted a tomato plant she had on the porch and threw it at my father. Being angry, he threw it back at her and it hit the door, black plastic pot, and everything, thudding loudly against the windowpane.
The second tale is of another fight they had, where mom made BLT’s for dinner, brought one to dad and an argument ensued which led to her smashing the sandwich on either his face or chest; can\"t remember the little details here. Fight or flight mode.
All I know is the next morning dad had tomato smeared on the back of his white v neck when he came into the kitchen.
Mom had smashed the leftover tomato into his pillow right after the Fight.
I go into fight or flight mode when loud noises/yelling starts. My vision gets narrow, my heart rate is up, my hands shake and I don\"t hide.
I have spotty memories because of it.
I had to be the fighter.
I had to problem-solve on my toes because I had younger siblings.
If I implanted myself in the middle, the fight would stop after they both stopped being pissed off at each other and transferred their rage on me.
I hated them both for a long time.
I had to calm my siblings the best I knew how, which wasn\"t enough, I know this.
It wasn\"t my job to be the peace keeper.
As an adult I still suffer.
I know the yelling could be heard by neighbors, and I feel they stayed out of it.
Child services was never called, when I wish they had been.
So, anytime I see a tomato meme, I\"m reminded of my attempt at humor in a time of trauma.
My traumatic responses are to fight back and in the end, to turn trauma into a funny story so when I finally let it go, it becomes a story that has fact but also humor so I don\"t have to truthfully explain to people that my childhood sucked.
My other trauma responses are to hold on to the hurtful experiences and create a mask to hide behind.
But everything was not okay.
