My Mother Stole My ChildhoodIt's sad that all my childhood experiences which are supposed to be happy and pleasant, like road trips, holidays and birthdays, are extremely depressing for me. I don't know why, every one of those times the abuse got worse. My mom would be especially volatile not only towards me but towards my father too. I would be paralyzed of fear as they argue (argument meant my mom screaming her lung outs and dad listening intimidated in his corner, so more of a monologue than argument but anyways). I would walk on eggshells the entire time and still get beaten up.
She would generally do it when dad was not around. Ever since I was in preschool up until I was 12-13. She would seem okay and calm going about her business around the house, and then suddenly a word I said, the tone I used, the look I gave her switched her crazy button somehow.
I would see her face changing composition. I could see her eyes narrowing, her empty stare as if her soul left her body. Her teeth would be clenched, her posture would change and her head would shake as she started to yell, louder and louder and talk faster and faster. "Child I gave you birth, I will destroy you! Everything I do for you and you ruined my life!" As she would start walking towards me, I knew what was coming so I couldn't help crying but she would say "Oh! your crying now? why? I didn't do anything yet... come here I will give you a reason to cry". If I tried to escape she would chase me, grab me by the arm, hair, shove onto the bed and start hitting, everywhere, continuing to repeat those horrible things. In those moments I would go numb, deaf, blind... as if I left my body. My only hope was her getting tired and hands hurting, so i sat through it, I hold my breath to stop the crying.
After the beating she would storm out and leave me alone in my room. Ashamed, robbed of dignity, alone, worthless, small, silent, sore, afraid to cry and guilty that I upset her. 20 minutes later she would come back to check on me and she would tell me I shouldn't be sad, but happy because she hits me because she loves me. She would bring me food and come back again to check if I ate it all. It was a way to prove that I forgave her. So I ate it even if I didn't want to, out of guilt, out of love. Gee I wonder why I'm a bulimic today at 24.
For a very long time, I really thought my mom loves me a lot for beating me, my friends were not being beaten up like me, it meant they weren't loved as I was. I felt lucky but at the same time guilty and a loser for always doing something to upset her. Little did I know, it wasn't anything I did. I was trying so hard, it consumed my entire train of thought. Will this upset her? How should I say it? Should I get out of my room now? Is she in a good mood?
My overachieving parents started teaching me how to read and write at 6 years old, it wasn't fun but i had to. On my 8th birthday I wrote a goodbye note. I wanted to free my parents(mainly mother) of the pain I was causing her. From what she told me on a daily basis, I destroyed her life somehow and she had the right to kill me because she gave birth to me, but she didn't because she loved me so much. So I thought what if I do it? Would that make thing better? I don't wanna say it was a suicide note, although I stared out of the window for hours. Maybe I don't even want to remember everything I wrote, while grounded in my room, on my birthday, waiting for guests to arrive. When they arrived my mom would tell them, "Tiffany"(fake name) is in her room, grounded because she did horrible things and was ungrateful, so you can visit her in there until I decide when she can come out. So there I was alone in my room, writing a very sad, disturbing goodbye letter to my parents, while guests were happy celebrating my birthday and my mom was entertaining them.
Up until 5th grade I would slap myself when making mistakes. I was afraid my mom can read my thoughts. I was afraid she has a detective hired to check what I am doing at all times. I was convinced there are hidden cameras in the house. I have the same nightmares since I was 5. Being chased by someone who wants to hurt me, a woman spying on me at the window and not being able to cry for help. These happen in extremely intricate and complicated scenarios, with the same basic theme behind it.
Today I am 24. Bulimic, social anxiety, ocd, paranoid behaviour, trust issues, mild generalized anxiety, depression, low self esteem, this delightful cocktail very possible being post traumatic stress disorder.
I recently started seing a therapist and flashbacks are resurfacing so violent, I am experiencing increasing anger. For the past 2 weeks I couldn't stand the sight of my parents and I am extremely resentful. I have nightmares, panick attacks and oh so much anger. Whenever I see babies or young kids I feel like punching their parents and yelling at them don't hurt them.
Whoever reads this, thank you for taking the time to peak inside my soul and hopefully you can relate and know you are not alone in your pain. I got through it alive and the only reason I didn't do anything stupid (like suicide) was because I loved my parents and didn't want them to suffer. When I heal from all this damage I will be able to proudly say "I am a survivor".