Learning To DealIt wasn't up until a few years ago that I finally realized that I spent a lot of my childhood as a victim of emotional abuse, at the hands of my mother. I write this account now after receiving a text message from my mother accusing me of lying about how I spent my day today. I am a liar because all I did was get coffee. I try to put myself in her shoes, ask where these outlandish accusations come from and try to understand what causes a person to lash out. This isn't the first time that I've been caused hurt - I've been told that I'm evil, undeserving of love and worthless. I ask myself - how could you say those things to anyone, yet alone your own daughter?
As a women in my late 20's now, I look back on my childhood and still wince when I hear her words. You're a worthless c*nt, piece of sh*t. You spilled milk and you're crying but I'm going to continue to yell at you even though it was an accident. How about being manipulated into writing your dad a hate letter when you're 3 years old asking him "to never come home." Breaking up with a boyfriend because you weren't in love with him but your mother, "you are doing this because I like him". It's always about her and it always will be. What have I done to deserve this?
It's only bits and pieces that I remember because I think I learned to block out all of the bad things. I live on a different coast now so it seems that the hate and accusations come sparingly. However, I never know when a text message is going to come spewing evil words and breaking me down.
What hurts the most is seeing a young sister grow up with this same abuse and not being able to overcome a lack of self esteem and gain confidence even as she begins her senior year of college. She's been put down so many times that it breaks my heart. Mom told her she wished she was dead again.
I hope to one day be able to share my story in better detail to give hope to others, and let them know they are loved, and it's not their fault. Finally coming the realization of why your childhood was the way it was is sometimes hard to articulate clearly.