Things my mother said and did that she claims are not abusive, and things were, “not that bad.”
Why are your nails different colors? That’s stupid and childish. You have a son to think about. Grow the fuck up. Jesus Christ. Rolls eyes, huffs, and puffs while stomping away heavily (22 years old)
She has a friend in town when I’m just 14 years old, goes to her work Halloween party and gets wasted. Pays my 16-year-old boyfriend $50 and lets him use her car for the entire day so we can pick them up. She was so wasted and begging us to go tee-pee houses with her. (She also knew we were sexually active) We never did make it tee-peeing, because on the way she started violently throwing up in the car. I asked her if my boyfriend could spend the night. She said, “Yeah. Get it, girl!” Her friend, however, was sober, and disallowed it from happening.
She did not call the police when she found out my 21-year-old boyfriend and I were sexually active. I was only 15. She said there’s no point in sending someone to prison when a little slut instigated it. This man raped me at least 3 times. (I lost count after a while) My mother slept with my father when he was just 15 years old, and she was 19 years old. She was pregnant and had me when she was 20 years old, and my father was 16 years old. My father sexually assaulted me, and many others, and often in front of me, repeatedly when I was a toddler, or maybe even younger as well. He is a lifetime registered sex offender. Two pedophile parents, and I’m the slut? There is a story and post about this, as well.
At 15 years old, 5’7 and weighing 145 pounds, my mother told me I was getting a pudgy belly. She put me on a diet, made me take diet pills, and screamed at me, “Do you want to get fat like me? This is for your own good. You’re a fucking idiot. You’re wasting your skinny body.” She would not give me full meals, but turned around and told my doctors she suspected my extreme weight loss was due to diet pills, but failed to tell them she was the one supplying them while depriving me of food, and I was instructed to deny when asked. And yup, you guessed it, I’d be rewarded with something fancy for complying. The doctors would say my "mania" is out of control and they know that because of my diet pull usage and extreme weight loss.
She bought me my first drink, at 14 years old while in London. I’ve shared that story already, and if you’re interested, it’s in the blog section labeled, “London.” Shortly after getting back, she convinced me that I was an alcoholic, since I was drunk every day in London, with the booze she provided for me. She would tell my doctors this but tell them she didn’t know I was drunk every day and didn’t know how I got the liquor until the end of the trip. She’d say things to me like, “Why did you have to turn out like your alcoholic piece of shit father?” There was also a boy from Wales staying with us, but that story is also in the “London” post.
At 21 years old, my mother was mad at me for something. I don’t know what, because she was always pissed off about something, whether I did something or not. So, she called my car in stolen, because it was in her name. My car. Clearly my messy, smoke-filled car. The police would actually arrest me, as well. Although, sometimes they didn't and just pulled me over and told me to go home. Yet, when my friend actually stole my car, the police told me there's nothing they could do because I gave her they keys. She used this as a threat often when she didn’t like who I was hanging out with, (which was never the unhealthy people. She only got mad when I went to be with the people that were good to me) didn’t want me to leave the house, disagreed with her opinion, you get the picture, right? She’d always threaten to call the car in stolen, even as an adult. People used to tell me I'm spoiled and ungrateful for everything my mother bought for me, but no one had any idea what was actually going on, nor did the know of the conditions those "gifts" bought, or the price that I paid for it all. There was ALWAYS a price. There still is.
She was screaming at me over something. She was in my face, spitting at me and calling me vulgar names. I was trying to get away. Trying to run away from her. She grabbed my arm forcefully and said, “You’re not fucking going anywhere you stupid little bitch. I brought you into this world and I can fucking take you out of it.” Now knowing that I was experiencing fear, I bit her so she would let me go. I ran away but she called my lovely small town police department. I got a battery charge that day. When questioned by the police as to why I did it, my answer was, “I don’t know.” Which is something my son says all the time and has been saying since he was little. So now I know why I said it all the time, and why my son does as well. It was always better to say nothing, and be ridiculed for being dumb, than to be ridiculed for how we responded. It hurt less.
I stole 2 cars when I was 14. When the police came to my door, they were not going to arrest me. My mother said, “If you don’t arrest her, I’m going to beat the shit out of her, probably kill her, and then you’re going to come back and take me to prison. Does that seem fair?” (That was never added in the police reports. If it was, it was taken out before I requested my records a few years back- I mean, it did take them much longer than average to get them ready. So long, that they apologized repeatedly...) They arrested me. I wouldn’t return home for over a year. I overheard my mother telling someone that it's the most peace she's ever had and she wished I didn't ever have to come home. Not at all what she'd say in court proceedings, though.
I never won card games as a kid because when I did, I was told, “You’re cheating. There’s no way you could beat me. I don’t fucking play with little stupid ass cheaters.” Sometimes she would get so mad, she’d throw the cards or whatever we were playing at me and would run around in a rage for what felt like hours, screaming and swearing at me. A child, around 7 is when I remember this starting. Yet, when it came time to play games with my son, I was frequently berated for not letting him win.
She found my carton of cigarettes when I was 14, shortly before she started buying them for me. We fought about it, and hard. (Which is ironic, because I learned it from her. I caught her smoking all the time, but never said a word. So naturally, if she was hiding it from me, then I should be hiding it from her, right?) Eventually, she would take each pack of cigarettes out of the full carton and chuck each one at my head while screaming vulgar names at me. “You want them so bad? Here. Here, fucking smoke them all. You’re going to sit down and smoke every last mother fucking cigarette. You spoiled fucking little shit. I fucking hate you so much. I wish you would just die. I wish I never had you. You’re just a no-good piece of fucking trash just like your father.”
My mother punched my son’s father when I was pregnant. This story is in the blog somewhere as well, or it should be. Basically, someone saw her, and the police were called. I was the only one drilled about who punched my sons’ father.
My mother tripped over a bassinet trying to answer the door. I was roughly 6 months pregnant. She fell and was knocked unconscious. I called 911, as any concerned daughter would do. When she woke up, there were paramedics and police everywhere. Her first words were, “You called the fucking police? Oh my God.” (Also, not in any records) The police pulled me aside as my mother was being examined and drilled me with questions. Saying, “We know you did this to her. We know you hurt her. But you’re lucky she’s denying it so we can’t arrest you.” They talked to her for a good 30 minutes trying to convince her to press charges. She kept saying things like, “I know, but she can’t help it. It’s not her fault.”
At 15 years old, my boyfriend and my friend got into a fight. My boyfriend grabbed a bat from his truck to go after my friend’s boyfriend. I went inside because I THOUGHT I would be avoiding any trouble, as it’s not me who initiated any of this. I watched the whole thing from inside. When the police showed up, they gave everyone outside disorderly conduct tickets. When they came to the door, they didn’t even ask me any questions. They went straight to my mother and asked what happened. My mother told them that "She was probably shooting her mouth off, and most likely started it.” I received a disorderly conduct ticket that day for doing absolutely nothing. For the record, this “friend” of mine, and her boyfriend were after me and my boyfriend was only protecting me.
I said “fuck” when I was 10 or 11. I mean, what kid wouldn’t when they’re constantly hearing it themselves? My mother, of course, started screaming at me. Calling me a defiant little shit and what the fuck is wrong with you? (Irony?) She wanted to put soap in my mouth, but regular soap “wasn’t going to teach me a lesson.” She grabbed her purse and ran to the door. She then ran to the store for scented soap. She ran back into the house, threw me in the bathtub, and shoved that soap down my throat. She shoved it so far down my throat that I was choking on what tasted like flowers. “There, now don’t do it again, or next time maybe you’ll stop breathing.”
She didn’t like that I bit my nails. So, she’d make me drink, yes, DRINK that stuff that tasted so nasty that was supposed to go on your nails.
I wet the bed until I was about 12. (Something my son also has in common with me) She would call me names consistently. Every night, because she was “Tired and had to work to support my dumb ass.” “What the fuck is wrong with you!?! Stop wetting the bed that's disgusting. You're ruining my life. You ruin everything."
I started self-harming around 10 years old. My mother wouldn’t find out until I was about 14. My mother would have inspections. When she saw cuts, she would say things like, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you so stupid? You’ve got to stop all this bullshit. Grow the fuck up dumb ass, you’re making me look bad. Jesus Christ, (Name Kept Private - and why I don’t like to be called by my full name-) FUUUUUUUCCCKKKK.” And she’d stomp away while calling me names. The phrase, “Jesus Christ, (Name kept private) was used on a regular, at least weekly basis, and often for the smallest reasons.
She laughed at me whenever I cried, even as a young kid. She made fun of me often. She loved to roll her eyes at me and give me the silent treatment as punishments. She’d gossip to friends and family knowing I could hear her but telling them she’s being quiet so I can’t hear her. She’d also tell them a completely different version of what was going on. (Hmmm. I wonder where I learned to lie?) She’d tell them not to tell anyone because she didn’t want to embarrass me, as she hung up calling person after person to tell them, and no one ever spoke about it to each other, so they all thought she was genuinely venting.
When I was giving birth to my son and in an immense amount of pain, my mother went and got the doctor, brought him back in the room and said, “If you don’t give her pain medication right now, I’m going to jump out this window. I can’t stand her stupid wining anymore.”
At 16 years old, we were at a Paul McCartney concert. She said, “You have nice perky boobs. Flash him. Maybe he’ll come over here.” So, I did, but I was told I didn't do it right, since he didn't give us any attention.
She gossiped and talked shit about everyone, and I mean everyone she knows. She recently had a friend pass away. Luckily, that friend never knew that she was her biggest victim. This same friend, I was told I was not allowed at her funeral. When she realized she couldn’t stop me, I was told to “not even look at her.” Yet, she purposely sat directly across from me at the luncheon, trying to make it so I’d have to look at her, so she could start some shit. That day was not about her friend’s life, it was about her. She did nothing but give me evil, disgusting looks. Such evil looks, that that’s the exact moment her father, my grandfather, became “disappointed” in her, (which is why I was told to lie to him and everyone else my entire life - to not disappoint her father-), that’s the exact moment he realized his daughter was exactly like her mother, his ex-wife. That’s when his wheels started turning, and he started not only trusting me over her, but choosing me over her.
Every time my mother is in town, she threatens her father by saying if I come over, she’s going to pack her stuff up and go home.
She literally tried to stop me from attending my sons’ high school graduation. She first told my grandfather that If I showed up, they’d stand in a circle around him to “protect” him, like I was a mass murderer or something. Then, she said if I come, my son won’t walk the stage. (Likely her idea and not his) So my “adult adoptive mother” said that’s not going to happen. You’re not going to miss his graduation. So, she, a deacon at a Christian reformed church, told me to lie to my grandpa and say we were going up north, and not even leaving the state. That way, he would tell my mother we weren’t going, my son would walk the stage, and we would still be there. See, my mother claimed I was going to cause a scene, but in reality, it would have been her. She always knew how to push my buttons so that I would be the one causing the scene, while no one else noticed her tactics of pushing those buttons. Luckily, my sons’ last name is near the beginning of the alphabet, so we left directly after his name was called. Not to please her, but to not allow her to cause the drama she was saying I would’ve started. Trust me, I wanted to stay and tell him how proud I was and am of him. I almost didn’t go in. I had several anxiety and panic attacks. I was shaking and unable to walk because I fear that woman so much, and what she’s capable of doing, saying, and lying about to that small town police department to have me arrested. But we got in and out without even being noticed, and I was so close to my son I could’ve reached out and touched him. 😊
She worked with my son’s father to blackmail me into signing my psychical custody over to my son father. (He ended up living with my mother, but that's for another post) Which I willingly did anyway, because I was wrapped up in a domestic violence situation, and my mother wouldn’t let me come home. I knew that my son had to be safe. She did all this, only for me doing everything she did to me, and taught me to do. She had my son going around video recording everything going on in my house. She conveniently left out any part about the physical violence, and only the stuff she could use against me.
She used to joke about killing my son’s father, like, repeatedly. I believe there’s a post about this as well. It was hilarious to her. She kept saying things like, “Seriously. Just give me the okay.” She’d often laugh about running off to Zimbabwe where they don’t extradite. His father may be alive today, simply because I never gave her the okay.
At 25, my mother and I were driving in front of her brother, on our way to a bar in my home state. She’s at a red light and gets out to do a Chinese fire drill.
Out of town for my cousin’s wedding, we ended up in the same city and state as my grandparents for the night. (It was a super long drive) She told me to moon them, so I did. I’m just saying, when I’m compliant, I always get rewarded, somehow.
My mother is out of town on business and I had my boyfriend (that ex I can't get over) over along with a few friends. My mother calls one of my friends that was there and asked what was going on. My friend opened the door to him and I having sex. She told my mother word for word what we were doing and how we were doing it, and my mother's response was, "Good for her. Maybe she'll stop being such a little bitch because she got some."
There are so many more stories, and I’m sure they will all come out at some point. But just know, they’re all manipulation, lies, and delusions made up in my head, according to my mother. My mother who forged my signatures, while I was already in a new state, to lie to my son’s school to say I lived with her. Can you even believe that my small-town police department wouldn’t press charges?!? But did when I forged her name. Hmmm. Funny. And I had to go through a diversion program to not have a charge and not go to prison, and say she was the victim... If only they knew all the shit she stole and fraudulent activity that went on in that house, because of her, and things she did directly. But they wouldn’t believe me anyway. I’m just a bipolar, mentally ill, defiant child who lies all the time.
I am often torn between empathy for my mother and the trauma she endured from her own mother, and thinking she has factitious disorder by proxy (Munchausen syndrome by proxy) in thy psychiatric sense. What do you think?
But of course, none of this happened the way I said it did. I'm twisting every truth...
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