My mom tried to commit suicide numerous times, and would overdose in front of the kids. We were told we couldn't call the cops (family life is to be kept secret). My sisters and I would then drag my unconscious mom to the car to bring her to the hospital. Then when she came too, she would yell at us for causing a medical bill. My dad was a spineless man who would just sit in a corner and cry, while my sisters and I would physically try to restrain my mom. He told me I was supposed to be aborted. My mom even threw a knife at me which stuck in the wall, because she went to drink her vodka with a fistful of tranquilizers and discovered it was filled with water.
I tried to earn my mother's love by getting good grades. I was first in my class. If I brought home a 97 on my report card, my mom would ask why it wasn't higher. I went to one of the top colleges in the US and graduated. Never once did I get an "I'm proud of you." I now know she wasn't/still isn't capable of showing love or compassion for anyone but herself.
My mom would take her frustration out on the nearest kid. Since I was the middle child, and not a baby or in my older teen years, it was normally me. She would say she would stop swinging when I cried. I refused to give her that satisfaction. Most of the time her arm got too tired to keep swinging the belt/shoe/handled wooden cutting board (which she actually broke on my back). Then she would make me lay in a tub filled with cold water and ice cubes to minimize the bruising. Then she would shred anything important to me, especially any artwork I had done, or cards I had made for her and throw them in the water with me.
When I told her I had witnessed a suicide, she didn't believe me until it showed up in the newspaper 5 hours later. "Well you must have seen it, it's in the newspaper." When the police department called me to ask me more questions, she gave me the message, and never again mentioned it. Why would I lie about that? I didn't lie nor have a history of lying to my mother either.
When I told her I had been drugged/raped, she asked me if I saw "dark shadows/shadow people." What the h*ll is that supposed to mean? She never mentioned it again, asked me if I was ok, or anything. That was the final confirmation to me that my mom is still certifiably nuts. She is a toxic person. She refuses to take any medications to treat her issues, and just stores them up for her next suicide try. Good luck and god speed to her on her endeavors.
Childhood experiences form the basis of our life belief system. I was born in l929, at the start of The Great Depression. VERY hard times for people. Unemployment was very high. My Dad did find a job--at the ice-house on the midnight shift, long hours, for six days a week. He then had to sleep during the days. My mother had to keep me--a toddler--quiet, so she locked me in the tiny bathroom whenever I was angry or otherwise upset and noisy. I learned the hard way to put a "smile" on my face and fake my feelings. During my early 30's I had a breakdown, and had to go into on-going therapy. I had to learn how to accept my normal feelings, and to express them appropriately. I experienced fear when I started feeling angry. But I learned and after years of therapy at different stress points of my life, have had a very good fulfilling life. I made certain that I reared my little Daughter in a healthy way and helped her learn to express her feelings of anger in a healthy, non-damaging way.
My childhood was like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. My teenage years were total hell. I mean total, complete, absolute hell. I don't have one good memory of that time.
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My mom tried to commit suicide numerous times, and would overdose in front of the kids. We were told we couldn't call the cops (family life is to be kept secret). My sisters and I would then drag my unconscious mom to the car to bring her to the hospital. Then when she came too, she would yell at us for causing a medical bill. My dad was a spineless man who would just sit in a corner and cry, while my sisters and I would physically try to restrain my mom. He told me I was supposed to be aborted. My mom even threw a knife at me which stuck in the wall, because she went to drink her vodka with a fistful of tranquilizers and discovered it was filled with water.
I tried to earn my mother's love by getting good grades. I was first in my class. If I brought home a 97 on my report card, my mom would ask why it wasn't higher. I went to one of the top colleges in the US and graduated. Never once did I get an "I'm proud of you." I now know she wasn't/still isn't capable of showing love or compassion for anyone but herself.
My mom would take her frustration out on the nearest kid. Since I was the middle child, and not a baby or in my older teen years, it was normally me. She would say she would stop swinging when I cried. I refused to give her that satisfaction. Most of the time her arm got too tired to keep swinging the belt/shoe/handled wooden cutting board (which she actually broke on my back). Then she would make me lay in a tub filled with cold water and ice cubes to minimize the bruising. Then she would shred anything important to me, especially any artwork I had done, or cards I had made for her and throw them in the water with me.
When I told her I had witnessed a suicide, she didn't believe me until it showed up in the newspaper 5 hours later. "Well you must have seen it, it's in the newspaper." When the police department called me to ask me more questions, she gave me the message, and never again mentioned it. Why would I lie about that? I didn't lie nor have a history of lying to my mother either.
When I told her I had been drugged/raped, she asked me if I saw "dark shadows/shadow people." What the h*ll is that supposed to mean? She never mentioned it again, asked me if I was ok, or anything. That was the final confirmation to me that my mom is still certifiably nuts. She is a toxic person. She refuses to take any medications to treat her issues, and just stores them up for her next suicide try. Good luck and god speed to her on her endeavors.
Childhood experiences form the basis of our life belief system. I was born in l929, at the start of The Great Depression. VERY hard times for people. Unemployment was very high. My Dad did find a job--at the ice-house on the midnight shift, long hours, for six days a week. He then had to sleep during the days. My mother had to keep me--a toddler--quiet, so she locked me in the tiny bathroom whenever I was angry or otherwise upset and noisy. I learned the hard way to put a "smile" on my face and fake my feelings. During my early 30's I had a breakdown, and had to go into on-going therapy. I had to learn how to accept my normal feelings, and to express them appropriately. I experienced fear when I started feeling angry. But I learned and after years of therapy at different stress points of my life, have had a very good fulfilling life. I made certain that I reared my little Daughter in a healthy way and helped her learn to express her feelings of anger in a healthy, non-damaging way.
My childhood was like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. My teenage years were total hell. I mean total, complete, absolute hell. I don't have one good memory of that time.
My childhood was very violent. I have Complex PTSD now. It is a long journey to recovery