I thought it was how. Because it was all my experience. Children belong to their mom and mom is god. I thought I had a very happy and healthy childhood, having a mom who love her children deeply and sacrifice/dedicate her life to them. And here is what love means:
Mom had to kick me out when I was younger than 3, because I was not taking a nap when I was supposed to do. She came and told me couple of times, but I didn't listened. Then she kept her promise as she always does and put me & my twin sister outside of the door of our flat on the fifth floor of a building. She gave us a coin to make it real. It was winter. It was so real.
Mom also had to hit us. Because we were not quiet enough, we were not behaving, or some other reason that even today I don't have any clue. My sister was hospitalized once when Mom threw something heavy to her head. Usually she was careful not to hit heads, but that time it happened. All our fault.
Once she threw the knife to us. I remember it stabbed into my sister's leg. My sister remembers that she was able to move just before. It is such a strange memory anyway. I don't even feel anything about that scene.
Bruises on our arms, shoulders, legs all the time. We were not allowed to cry when she started. Of course were crying. But that was making her more mad. We had to wait until she feels enough. You can't run. Then you would get worse. Nobody dares...
She loved us so much that she kept biting us. Kissing was not enough. She was biting our chin, arms. Do you know how it feels? She was doing it so strongly that marks of her teeth were visible on our face, arms for an hour or so. I remember going to school like that, had to explain what happened.
But we knew that she loved us so much. And she was asking permission for that. She was begging us.
Sometimes she doesn't need to ask permission to do some fun stuff. She love touching us. Just like that. Anytime, whenever she feels like and no matter what you are doing. There was a sneaky smile on her face every time she holds my genitals. Hurting if you don't let her continue and want to go away, because she was holding strongly. Again you have to wait until she feels enough. It never lasted long.
When I grew up enough, she added another fun game. She started enjoying my growing breasts. This was supposed to be very quick though. She had so much fun.
I am in pain. Deeply. Waiting for death has turned to the thoughts to making it. Dealing with it. Painful.
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From Victim to Victory
How I got over the devastating effects of child abuse and moved on with my life
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