Child Abuse Story From Meredith

by Meredith
(Massachusetts, USA)

I don't know if this counts as being abused. My mother can and will throw these moods, where one second she is yelling and screaming, but as soon as someone walks in (another family member, or someone other than my father) she'll put up that fake mother love. She hates me, she loves me.

She scares me. She never hits me, or hurts me (at least physically). I wish she really did just slap me, that way the pain could fade. These words stab into me, twisting around, dripping acid into my scrambled brain. I don't remember a night without yelling, to be honest. She is so unpredictable, she makes locating the exact location of a single electron seem like child's work.

She once threatened to abandon me, to leave me behind if I didn't shut up and stop talking. And I hadn't said a word.

As I've said before, she will let lose her Monster Mother side. This includes yelling at me, calling me names (b****, a$$, a$$hole, bastard, damn child... etc), and when she's really mad, she'll grab my face tightly, pinching my face up with one hand, snarling in my face. I sometimes find myself wondering if I breathe in enough of her cigarette smoke, will I get lung cancer? Much to my surprise the thoughts that follow are hopeful- that, yes, it will happen. I will die.

I don't think I've ever heard a kind word from my mother- except maybe when I do precisely what she wants me to do, which as I've said is extremely difficult.

She calls me stupid. I am, I know it! I don't need my mother to verify it, though she did break my delusions, but I am second guessing her- my God.

I used to meet with the guidance counselor at my school every Monday. But, after multiple altercations with my mother who said, "You can't go crying to the guidance counselor every second of the day- You need to go to your classes!" I never did go crying like she said, it was only during my free period on Mondays that I was called down to the g.c's office.

She publicly humiliates me by bringing emphasis to my faults, while we're in public.

I feel so irate, so depressed, so worthless, and I can't bring myself to get too close to someone to show them my REAL feelings. All they know is my mask, not me. But I always say: "Better to be loved for who I'm not than hated for who I am." Because if I showed them my true, ugly self, then they would hate me. I am called to the office regularly because I am overly reactive, I have difficulty controlling my emotions; I am aggressive, and yet I am withdrawn. Teachers call my withdrawn-ness being polite, but I'm just afraid to not treat them with respect. I don't want to disappoint my mother further. I can't sleep, I have these horrible nightmares and I can not sleep. On the other hand, I have these beautiful dreams, and I wake up crying because I know it is only a dream.

When I'm nervous I bite my knuckles, enough that I break the skin at times. I am lying about my homework, just so I can do it my way, not my mother's way. I've been told I am a bit of a daredevil, that I run through life recklessly.
I started cutting because my cousin got hurt, and he was in my care, even though he was older, and I wanted to feel something other than mental pain.

I had a problem in my Earth Science class, and I got really mad. The teacher sent me down to the guidance counselor's office. My sleeves were tight, and long, but not long enough. She saw, asked what they were, and I said "Cat scratches".
Then she said okay, and we continued the meeting. After some time, I broke, and told her that I was cutting, and she said that she knew and that I needed medical attention.

I was sent to the ER, driven by my mom, who through the hour long ride, screamed and ranted about how I was messing up HER life and that SHE was so embarrassed by MY behavior. It was all "Boo hoo my daughter's awful." When we got to the ER, she isolated me, sitting far away. I was alone in there. When I was called, I had to explain, and they did the standard procedure.
Then, they got me a bed in that wing, and started asking why. I told them, with my mom out of the room of course. Then they talked to her. Then me. Then her. Then finally they filed a 51A. A child abuse allegation.

They moved me in front of behavioral offices. My mother wasn't allowed back into the room, unless there was a guard that patrolled only that strip. To keep watch. Every time she took a step closer to me, the guard would look in, ask if everything was okay, and she had to make an excuse like "needed a tissue" or something like that.
She was crying, sniffling and trying to make me feel bad. She approached the doctor when he came in, and started yelling. Then, they stayed while I slept over night. I would be going to a mental hospital in the morning.

While I was there, I didn't want to have my meetings with my parents, but I had to. However, if I had to, I'd have someone in there with me. So my social worker went in with me. After I came back, a couple weeks later, I got ripped into.
Every time I do something wrong, they bring up how I didn't want to talk to them, how "They have done nothing wrong and the doctors there agreed".
About the last part: I was told by the doctors before I left that if they were being mean again, to tell someone because IT WASN'T RIGHT. My parents now say, "I wasn't on a two week vacation" when they want to jab at me. But it WAS hard there!

I binge and purge. I've had the secrecy of almost three months. But, my parents found out and picked on me for being so self-conscious. They called me an attention w***e, and a cocky b**** for thinking I knew better than the doctors. I felt like I was heavier than I should be.
I FEEL like I AM heavier than I should be. I still purge- now I'm just skipping breakfast, and lunch, while puking up my dinner. I know I should stop cutting, I know I should stop purging, but I can't stop.

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