Child Abuse Story From Jo2
by Jo
(Illinois, USA)
For a long time, I just thought my parents were strict. I also thought that there was something wrong with me that I couldn't understand since I was so unworthy of love. It was easy for me to believe since my parents acted as though they were right about everything. They also were very well respected in our upper middle class neighborhood. Everyone thinks/says that I came from a good family - but that's not the truth.
My brother and sister were pretty well treated and loved, but nothing I did was right or good enough. I'm pretty sure I was abused even as a little kid because my dad still teases me about running away when I was a toddler. My mom brutally rejected gifts I gave to her when I was a kid - I'll never forget how she screamed at me for giving her something that she was allergic to. I didn't know! But she said I had done it on purpose to make her sick. It was the first time I had bought something with my own money. She told me to take it back and buy her something that wouldn't make her sick. I didn't. I just threw it away.
As I got older, the abuse got worse. I was belittled a lot, contradicted and controlled all the time and made to feel stupid and ugly by both of my parents. They often accused me of thinking or doing things I'd never dream of. It was so painful because I always tried hard to be a good kid. I never got into trouble, not even a detention at school! The only bad thing I did (which was horrible) was attack my sister for a long time. I was as ruthless to her as my parents were to me. But one day (I think I was in Jr. High), I walked past her and she was just looking at a book and I got so mad, I wanted to claw her to shreds. It was then that I realized how unreasonable my anger was. Under the positive influence of my grandmother and a couple of good middle grade novels, I stopped. I have never been abusive since.
But the abuse kept coming from my parents.
One time, I was telling my brother and sister something I had learned in school and my dad didn't believe me. "Don't listen to her, she doesn't know what she's talking about!" he told them. It's always that way. Even if I say something now (I'm almost 40) that he can't remember or disagrees with, he'll flat out tell me I'm wrong. I laugh now and can dismiss it because I don't respect him anymore. I wish I could get to the same place with my mother, especially as she's much more cruel. With her, she can be loving and nurturing, but you never know when she'll stab you in the back or the heart.
When I was in college, things got really, really bad. My mother picked fights with me all the time. I remember writing in my journal that I didn't like who I was when I was at home. How could I? There, I was told I was a burden and that because of me, the family couldn't eat the expensive foods they wanted. My mom often screamed things like, "You only think about yourself, what do you do for other people?" She always pushed me to be who I wasn't - trying to make me more social and yet telling me that no one wanted to hear what I had to say. I kept trying to be someone they'd want, but I could never do it. I couldn't be pretty and I couldn't be smart and I couldn't make friends - I was a social outcast at school too.
When I earned the first good grades I ever got (all A's and one B) I called home from college with the good news. Considering all the times she'd posted my bad grades on the fridge so that everyone could see how stupid I was, I thought she'd be elated. Nope. "But you have no social life," she said and hung up. I dreamt about suicide a lot during those four years. Especially after I came home for the holidays and my brother told me quite frankly that no one was glad that I was home. I was devastated. I don't blame him very much. I know that my dad probably ranted and raved at the dinner table, wondering if my college would keep me. And my mom, I think complained about me too. From all of this, I got very ill that year with bad GI (gastrointestinal) stuff - and I'm pretty sure that stress was the root cause of it. I was convinced that I was a horrible person, and it scared me that I couldn't figure out why.
I think it's a miracle that I survived it all - and graduated from college. I don't think that deep down, that's what my mother wanted. I don't think she realises it, but I think she wanted me to fail. I'm also so proud that I stopped the cycle.
I blame my parents more and more as my children grow older - because I can't imagine saying and doing the things that they did! I can't imagine not celebrating a child's accomplishments! I know now that when my mom says she loves me (and she does almost every day on the phone), she does mean it, but her love is very warped and unhealthy. That has helped me somewhat, but I still battle anxiety and depression and low self esteem. For years, I felt guilty when anyone loved me - and waited for them to find out that I was unlovable. After a decade of marriage, I still ask my husband (who is wonderful!) to reassure me that there are reasons to love me. I have a hard time making decisions and often look to him for help. He's very patient - even when he goes to events on my side of the family - especially as my parents didn't want me to marry him. They were pretty ugly about that too. What a surprise!
Thank you Darlene for this very helpful website!!
Jo
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