Child Abuse Story From Lucy A Grown Woman
by Lucy
(Location Undisclosed)
I wonder if it's child abuse if it wasn't intended as abuse. I was never intentionally abused, or sexually abused. I was a child with undiagnosed severe ADD in a large, strict family. Mother and Daddy were always right. I know they did the best they could with what they had, and that they loved each and every one of us. But, how things were handled left emotional scars on me. As I get older and talk to my older sisters, I realize they have emotional scars too.
My older brother and sisters did very well in school. I received bare-bottomed spankings in front of my siblings (which shamed me)every report card period because I couldn't stay focused in school and my grades showed it. I needed more attention because of the self esteem issues that come from never succeeding in school. Instead my parents were overwhelmed with too many children and not enough money. Instead of attention and reassurance, I was told I was lazy.
I know they didn't know about ADD when I was a child. I remember my mother trying several things to encourage me to do better in school. But I also remember all the spankings and yelling lectures. I craved adult attention, and when another adult gave it to me, my mother told I wasn't as cute as I thought I was. My mother slapped and spanked with a belt frequently. My older sisters were put in charge of the younger kids too much, and were too young for that much responsibility, so they slapped me a lot too.
We were taught to keep each other in line by tattling. I don't know why I never did it, but keeping my siblings transgression secrets didn't stop them from tattling on me. I don't think my mother liked me or understood me. I think deep down I'm a very strong person, and the fact that she couldn't control me made her try that much harder. Also, children with ADD cannot control their impulses, so I think I must have frustrated her with that too. I know she played favorites with my little sister a lot. My other sisters can give examples of it too.
I remember wanting so much to be like the other kids. I felt I was beneath them. We went to a very small private Catholic school, but we were the poor kids in school. We were made fun of because we were painfully shy and wore out of style hand-me-downs. The kids (as kids will be) were brutal. We were the school pariahs. I remember being in high school and wanting to grow my hair out. My mother always insisted we have short, layered hair with a curly perm. By that time I was allowed to go to the hair dresser by myself. I kept telling her to cut the bottom, but not the layers. After a few haircuts, my mother realized what I was doing and accompanied me to the salon, making sure my hair was cut as she designated. At age 46, I still have nightmares about her cutting my hair in my sleep.
When I was 19, I was supposed to have a date with my boyfriend who was in town for the week from college. Just hours before the date, my mother told me I had to cancel because it was a school night. I was embarrassed and furious and decided I needed to end my life. Thankfully I was really stupid about it and bought sinus pills. I did take all of them, and then drove around for 10 hours, waiting for them to take effect. Finally I went home for lack of any other ideas of what to do. The next morning my brothers and sisters would not talk to me. I went to my college classes and then when I went home for lunch, my mother began her lecture. She started with, "I want you to know I wasn't worried in the least." I knew better, but kept it to myself. Then she proceeded to tell me everything that was wrong with me and how ungrateful I was and then grounded me for a month and told me I had to go to church every day to make up for being such a bad person. She never asked me what was wrong.
When I was 21, I stopped the bullying. My sister had been sneaky and deceptive in order to have time with her boyfriend when they dated. After they were married, my Mother found out about a lot of it. About a year later, I had moved out of my parents house and was engaged and visiting my mother to try to make wedding plans. That day, she brought up all the stuff my sister had done, and tried to take her anger about it out on me. I had decided I didn't live there anymore and didn't have to take my mother's bullying anymore. I told her I was leaving. She grabbed my arm and yanked me back into my chair. I got up again and she slapped me across the face. All my anger bubbled to the surface and I slapped her back so hard we looked for her glasses for 30 minutes (they had flown across the room). I told her she had no right to hit me any more.
When I was in my 30s and in counseling, my therapist told me I needed to talk to my mother about the suicide attempt. I tried. I told her my side of what had happened that day. I asked her why she didn't ask me what was wrong or if I needed help. She didn't respond that day, but sent me a letter in the mail a week later. Basically she said parents have to be right all the time, or children have no respect for their discipline. She also said it was my fault that she didn't help me because I didn't tell her. I still feel there were enough signs that a normal parent would have seen that something was wrong. At that time I decided I was more mature than my mother and she would never grow up beyond where she was.
I don't know if any of that was really abuse, but it felt like it to me. I still take medicine for chronic depression and ADD. I have tried really hard not to repeat my parents' ways of raising children. I am a hard working adult with a steady job and good kids, but I don't think anything I do will be good enough for my mother.
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