Mother (long)

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blacksheep
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Posts: 8
Joined: Wed Jun 28, 2017 8:34 pm

Mother (long)

Post by blacksheep » Wed Nov 28, 2018 5:28 pm

This will be long, but I need to get it out.. because she is sick, and she's made everyone believe that she's not. She's made everyone, including my sister, blame me instead. I feel very alone about this, I feel crazy. So here's the story of my mother.

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For as long as I can remember, my mother made me her mother. She came to me for advice. She vented to me. She wanted me to listen. She craved my validation. So I listened - but when she wanted an opinion or some kind of advice, the ground turned into eggshells.

If I gave the right answer, the validation that she craved, I was met with ‘love’ and felt ‘closer’ to her. I felt as if I had done the right thing, as if I had helped her. It seemed to make her happy if I spoke the words she wanted to hear. They were words I grew to not morally agree with over time, but felt compelled to speak to maintain some kind of relationship with her.

If I gave the wrong answer - if I gave my opinion from a moral standpoint, if I asked her to step outside of herself and put herself in someone else’s position, to empathise with another person, to be more human and warm about things instead of cold and selfish... I was met with blind rage. It wasn’t a normal kind of rage. It wasn’t a ‘we can get passed this and work things out’ kind of rage. It was blind, unnerving, relentless. She was never mad at herself for her lack of understanding and lack of humanity - she was just mad that I didn't agree with her. And in a split second, all of her problems, every wrong doing in the world, would suddenly become my fault. I was punished; the physical punishments were few and far between with her, but her words wounded me more than her fists. They cut into me so deeply. I have spent years second-guessing myself, and questioning my own morals. I have spent years under the belief that I didn’t deserve anything, that I was a failure, that I don't matter.

My mother was always all for herself. She liked to play the victim and hero in any situation that allowed her to, she liked to blame others and make herself look good.

She used to buy herself clothes, perfume, shoes, purses, anything and everything expensive to keep up her appearance. She bought me second hand clothes that came in garbage bags and told me to go through them and find things that fit. She yelled at me for spraying her perfume as a kid, she yelled at me for my feet growing and needing new shoes, she yelled at me for needing new backpacks when mine got worn out. She yelled and acted as if it were my fault, as if I were a huge burden to her and that myself as a growing child was something to be ashamed of. She bought my sister new things and never made her feel guilty about it. I didn't understand.

My father was an alcoholic, and that's when they would argue. When he drank, he became violent. And she knew that. And she provoked that. And she knew what she was doing; she knew what the consequences were for allowing him to stay with us. And she didn’t care, because he fed her validation. And I really think they were both just empty people, with no feelings, that would have just fought until one killed the other. There was no reason for them to argue, and I am fairly sure they only argued to pass time.

They argued whenever he drank - and he drank daily. They argued until he would pass out drunk. They argued until things were destroyed, until blood was shed, and she didn’t seem upset. She didn’t seem to care that her children were terrified and suffering. She never really seemed to genuinely care about anyone or anything, she was just emotionally void in every way possible. She only cared about what was ‘right’ and what was ‘wrong’ on her own terms, which didn’t align with reality. The only emotion she seemed to be capable of was anger. It was as if she was some kind of bad actor, and the way she acted became predictable.
In a way, it was as if she seemed okay with things. Not out of shame, not out of any emotional trauma, it just seemed as if she didn’t care and was okay with it. At the same time, when I would question things, she acted entirely helpless. She lied to me for years and told me there was nothing that she could do, that legally there was no way to force him to move out… and I think she only lied to keep him around.

When I was four years old, she came up with an escape plan that I was told to follow in the event that he killed her. I was told to get my baby sister and take her to my grandmother’s house a few blocks away. It didn’t matter if it was in the middle of the night, or in the dead cold of winter. I was told to protect her. And I learned to protect her in any way I could - be it hiding her in kitchen cupboards or bedroom closets, or stepping in front of her like some kind of human shield and ending up with scars for life when he threw kitchen plates at her.

I learned not only to protect her, but our pets as well.
My mother bred Persian cats for a few years, until my father kicked one over the staircase and broke his leg, and then eventually drowned another litter. We had a sheltie that my parents would frequently kick and scream at. It was my job to brush the cats and dog. When my mom went through some kind of episode and decided to ‘save’ two rabbits, it became my job, as an 8 year old, to give them food, water and clean their cage. They lived in a barn that was always locked, and it was my responsibility to see them daily. I was never reminded to do so, I was never offered any help with them at all. They ended up dying within a year or so - at which point I was met with blind rage. I was yelled at for being irresponsible, I was yelled at for killing them.
Out of the pets we had, my cat will always break my heart. She was an orange tabby Persian cat who followed me everywhere. My mother got her when I was 3, and she was my first best friend. We spent hours together daily. I loved her more than anything, and my father used her to abuse me every chance he got.
He would threaten to kill her. He would tell me one day, I would come home and she wouldn’t be there. That I would never see her again. He would scruff her and toss her across the room, he would kick her, and she would scream. I would try to bargain with him, to get him to abuse me instead of her. I felt horrible, because I knew she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. I knew that he was hurting her. And out of everything that’s happened, this is the part that makes me break down. This is the part that still makes me cry. Because I cared so much, and couldn’t save her.
I would tell him to take it out on me instead of her - and he would. But that didn't save her in the end. My first memory of my father is of him holding a knife to my beloved cat and threatening to kill her. And then the knife was on my throat. And it’s cold. And I can’t breathe. And I can see my cat hiding in the closet, I can hear her coughing. And he tells me if I scream, he will kill me. And my mother is screaming on the other side of the door, but it’s muffled. She is not crying, she does not seem to care. She is angry, always. And then everything just goes black.
My cat died when I was 11. I came home from school one day - my father was piss-drunk, and my mother was in the kitchen. When I tried to open the door, she yelled at me to leave. She told me my cat was dying, and that there was nothing I could do. She sent me to my grandmother’s house and told me that she would ‘take care of things’. A while later, she told me my father had called her at work. That my cat had jumped out of the window and her spine broke from bone cancer. It was a lie, and I believed it as a child, because it was an easier truth to digest than my father following through with his threats, and my mother let him.

So I would protect our pets when they fought - I would try to get them as far away as I possibly could. I would hide them in closets with my sister and I. I always have and always will care about animals a tremendous amount because they are helpless.

When I was young, I excelled in school as an escape. I was pushed by my parents to do my best, but rest assured, it was never good enough. I was compared to them, as well. My mother would shower me with praise, directed at herself. “You are such a talented artist, it makes sense because I have always been creative and good at art.” “You’re good at writing, I got even better marks in English when I was your age. I always wanted to be a writer.” It felt as if I was a threat to her, and that became apparent when I was placed in advanced classes and given opportunities. As I got older, the compliments became criticism and competition. “Why would you enter that writing contest?!? Who do you think you are?! You will never be as good of a writer as I am.” “I saw your paintings at the post office - your classmates are so talented. Maybe you shouldn’t have quit art lessons.” She put me in art lessons, and made me quit, because she said it was too expensive. I think the real reason was because she felt threatened by it.

I have had issues with cramps and pains in my side since I was 10 - when I got my period for the first time, I legitimately thought I was dying. Instead of being an actual mother and explaining what was happening, my mother just let me think that I was dying. My grandmother became my mother, she explained and helped me. And I know now that her response wasn’t right, and it’s something she still does. She makes fun of any kind of ailment or problem that I have.

My father sexually abused me, and I am fairly certain she knew, and she did nothing. I have memories of trying to tell her I was in pain, and her telling me to stop making things up, that it was in my head, that I shouldn't lie.

My mother use to tell me that she was ‘saving up money to pay the sheriff to arrest my father’ and that there was nothing she could do to stop anything. I found out that she lied to me when I made the call myself. I was 11 or 12 and had heard and seen and been the victim of enough shit to torment someone for a lifetime. The police arrested my father and took him away. After talking to my sister and I, they wanted to take us away, too, but my mother manipulated them into letting her keep us.

That call did nothing.

I became the black sheep in my family for seeing things logically, for disagreeing, for finding a voice and speaking up. I became the root of all of her problems that day. She blamed me and screamed at me and told me that I destroyed our family. That it was all my fault, and that I was crazy to have done that. I have heard her talk to her friends and twist this story so many - saying that she did everything and anything she could to save us, that she would have died trying to protect us. The victim and the hero.

When he was taken, that's when the physical abuse started from her - it was few and far between. One of the first things she did when he was taken was put me on medications. And I think it was to silence me - I was 12. I had no control over anything. She kept me medicated for years. And I didn't talk about the abuse, because I didn't know how. But she would attack me when I would go against her story, when I would disagree, when I would try to spend time to myself and she would interrupt and I would ask her to leave me alone. She would hit me, pull my hair, kick me out in the dead of winter as a teenager and lock the doors.

So I left once - I ran away when she went to get groceries one day. I was 17. I took my computer with me. Months later, she sent me an email saying that if I didn't return it, she would contact the police. A hook. A manipulation tactic. A way for her to see me and suck me back in.

She spent years telling me that I needed to be more understanding of my father's actions, that it wasn't his fault, that I was making things up, that I 'only have one father' and should love him and treat him with respect etc.

She is a hoarder, and it got worse when my father was arrested. There has been a bath tub at the end of the hall upstairs for 15+ years, because she planned to renovate the bathroom and bought everything and never started the project. She's kept all of my old toys and old second hand clothes. She keeps boxes and bags from every Christmas. She went as far as keeping a dead cat in her garage who passed away in the winter, until the spring when she could bury him. She had 3 cats and 6-7 dogs, but has less now. The pets die under her 'care' - usually before they reach 2-3 years old. And this infuriates me - because she truly thinks there is nothing wrong with her or them. She avoids vets unless it's 110% needed. I've called the SPCA multiple times and they have done nothing

She keeps the female dogs in cages and screams at them. She doesn't walk them or brush them or bathe them. They go to the washroom inside and it smells horrible, like amonia, but she doesn't care. It breaks my heart.

As Christmas approaches, I think of the time she attacked me. She bought me a gift that didn't fit me - and I told her, and she threw me down the stairs. I was an adult in my early 20's and the police told me that I could press charges but they personally wouldn't because she was family. So I didn't.

I recently cut her out of my life. I have done this so many times before, and she always finds a hook, a way back in. She always plays the victim and uses guilt to make me feel bad. It's as if I become a child, who's disappointed mom and wants to do anything I can to not hurt her 'feelings'. But I need to stay away from her, because the logical side of me knows that she is sick.
Last edited by Ashia on Thu Nov 29, 2018 9:56 am, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: Changed MT to ST as graphic triggering detail is included

solana
Member
Posts: 430
Joined: Sat Sep 15, 2018 2:25 am

Re: Mother (long)

Post by solana » Thu Nov 29, 2018 1:56 am

hi blacksheep,

thank you for sharing this.

i'm feeling so much anger towards your mother for all the ways she hurt you and failed to protect you. my mother had some similar qualities. i will never understand how a mother could treat her own child this way.

i can completely relate to having to protect pets. you're absolutely right, they are helpless and innocent and deserve care and protection. just like children. you were the child, and you should have been protected. you shouldn't have had to be the protector.

i'm glad to hear that you've cut your mother out of your life. after all she's done to you, her feelings do not matter. she does not deserve to have you in her life. you've spent so long taking care of her. it's time to take care of you.
You are stronger than you know.

meepers
Member
Posts: 6
Joined: Fri Sep 18, 2015 4:44 am

Re: Mother (long)

Post by meepers » Mon Jan 28, 2019 4:56 am

Wow.

I really hope you got help for what your dad did to you. And I really hope you and your mom no longer have any contact. She sounds like my brother, and I sure hope you are doing okay mentally. Because you went through a lot. I'm proud of you for taking the high ground and protecting yourself from your father, and for escaping from your mother. I hope you are doing okay.
Last edited by Ashia on Tue Jan 29, 2019 8:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: Changed MT to NT as no triggering content included

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