Thursday, August 11, 2011

Had a memory earlier today...

(**NOTE** Several parts of this may be triggering for some people so please proceed with caution.)

Forgot to share this earlier what with all the other emotional upheaval going on currently. Back when I was about 16 and a junior in high school, I had made a plan to run away. The abuse at home was reaching it's peak, I was majorly depressed to the point of being almost suicidal and I just wanted to get out of that hell hole and away from all of them. So, a friend of mine and our boyfriends made a plan to run away. We were going to live together to help support one another until we could get on our feet. As part of the plan, I had decided I would "steal" the engagement ring my dad had given to my NM back when they were together. It was a one carat diamond and was flawless, or so I'm told. I figured that, combined with the gold band it was in, it would fetch me enough money to carry me for a couple weeks. (I know. I was naive but it was something I guess.)

At any rate, one day - whilst going through my things under the guise of "cleaning my room", which she often did - NM happened upon a letter I'd written to my friend in which we discussed certain details of our plan. The fact that I planned to take the ring was in there as well. NM, of course, was FURIOUS with me and immediately set in to screaming at me. How DARE I plan to steal HER ring?!!! That was HERS, NOT mine....blah dee freaking blah.

Looking back today, it hits me just how fucked up her reaction was. I mean, really...if I happened upon a letter my ds had written in which we expressed his depression and plan to run away from home, my first thought would be to gently confront him and ask what I'd done to make him want to be away from me, to think his only option was to leave. The LAST thing I'd be thinking about is how dare he steal MY precious things! But, then, I'm not a self-centered, narcissistic bitch who doesn't give a shit about her own child.

There was another time, in my senior year, when things had gone from bad to worse and I'd begun cutting myself on my arms. When my NM finally discovered what I'd been doing - and it was clear she didn't give a damn even before she officially "found out" because I often wore short sleeved shirts and didn't generally cover the scars up so they were fairly easy to see, even from a distance - her only thought was to berate me for how I'd supposedly hurt and embarrassed her with my "behavior". There was ZERO concern for the fact that I, her daughter, was in so much pain that I was CUTTING myself, oh no! The only thing she could think was how this latest bout of "silly" behavior would make HER look in the eyes of others. 

Again, I sit here and think of how I'd react if I found out my sweet baby boy was in so much pain that he was cutting into his own flesh and the absolute LAST thing that would come to mind - IF it even came to my mind AT ALL - is how it would affect ME. My ONLY concern would be for my son and how I could help him stop hurting. But my NM - or rather, that selfish bitch who calls herself my "mother" - could think only of HERSELF. ALWAYS, it is about HER - HER wants, HER needs, HER desires, HER pain, HER stress, HER feelings....HER, HER, HER. Bitch. I hope she rots.


  1. Good for you for making it out alive and striving to be healthy! I'm so sorry you went through that nightmare. Your NM's response makes me sick. You have so much strength and courage to have made all the healthy changes you have. What an incredible blessing you are. To bad your NM never saw it.

  2. Oh boy. This reminded me immediately of a family-friend, who's mother may have been raised by a N. I remember she told us this story once, about how when she was about twelve, she was bike-riding outside and she took a really, really bad fall. When she got up and made it home, she was covered in mud and blood and it was dripping everywhere.

    Her mother was upset that she was making a mess in the house.

    Seriously??? When your child is hurt, in pain, or suffering, and you care more about how she's tracking dirt in the house and dripping blood on your floor (or walls, or couch, or fuck, whatever!) there is something seriously fucked up going on. I can't even imagine that.

    Once, when DD fell and bumped her lip, it didn't even register until after she had calmed down and we got ice on it, that she had been bleeding on one of my brand new shirts. But even after I realized it, I didn't care. All I cared about was making her feel better. It breaks my heart when my child is hurting...not so much when she gets blood on my "precious belongings." MY CHILDREN are my most precious "belongings."

  3. This reminds me of the time in high school when I got in trouble for being bulimic/anorexic. Yep, I said in trouble. I had been engaged in my eating disorder for over a year before my parents finally figured it out. I was grounded, my car was taken away, I wasn't allowed to talk on the phone unless they listened in, I had to come home from school right after the last bell. I was made to see a nutritionist once a week who was to teach me the proper way of eating. My mother attended a session once and I got to sit there listening to the nutritionist say things like, see, look at how you are hurting your poor mother by refusing to eat, while my mother sat there with an angry/pained look on her face.

    Yes, we look at our children and cannot imagine how it would be possible to completely ignore, discredit or disallow their pain. But we were an extension of our parents and so not allowed to have our own feelings. They took our feelings away from us and said, you are wrong! You are nobody! How dare you have emotions! I am the only one allowed to have emotions around here!

    Then we grow into adults and wonder why half the time we feel nothing. The other half the time we feel anxious, nervous, insecure, uncertain and confused. When we feel extreme emotions, we don't what to do with them, so we act out. We scream and cry like little children. We had no role model to teach us how to feel so we don't know what to do. We are like blind baby mice, stumbling out of a hole in the ground into the bright sun. What is this I feel? Oh! I don't like it! I'm not supposed to have feelings! What shall I do? Maybe I should ignore it! Maybe I should discredit it! Maybe I should think I am wrong to feel this way! Hmm.. wondered where we learned that?

  4. Wow. Other women just like my NM. My mother had hysterics when I had a bad swimming accident and they didn't use a plastic surgeon to repair the damage on my forehead. She was worried that my looks would be damaged and I would be less. Really. What about the incredible headache that her hysterics made MUCH worse. Now, the 3 inch scar is barely noticeable hiding in my wrinkles. For years no one has realized how big the scar is or even where it is located.
    You know what is a true credit to you? You are so different in how you choose to treat ds. You are choosing time and again to place the welfare of your dh and ds at the top of your list of what is important. I enjoy reading how you are choosing to take care of yourself and your family. You are doing great.