One of my primary abusers was my mother. She would beat me with a belt, a paddle, her hand, whatever she could find. I knew at a young age somehow that she was trying to murder my spirit. I learned that I had to show no emotion around her in order to be more safe. Remember the phrase, oh yeah you wanna cry I'll give you something to cry about? I learned to keep a dispassionate face, no tears. Tears somehow gratified her, stimulated her, gave her more power. It was almost like watching someone with sexal excitement.{she did that too} I learned young to pinch myself to shut off the feeling, so I wouldn't cry. To bang my head or bite. Inflicting pain on myself gave me the power. Once I was being beaten with a belt and I was just standing there and she said next time she'd put nails in the belt. She hated that I wouldn't cry and scream. At one point she was beating me and I was older, maybe 14 and I said go ahead and beat me if it makes you feel good. At this point my father flies out of nowhere and has his belt and whips the piss out of me. I didn't cry. My usual course was to hide the welts and bruises but this time I wore shorts in front of him and everyone else. It was not my shame, it was his and theirs. Of course writing this triggers me. I am two people really, one with the poker face who can get through anything and one who shows certain emotions openly. Emotions about the here and now openly, old stuff poker face.m I have learned to cry and stay with the feelings. I used to run out of my T's office everytime I would start to feel. Part of the reason I am so depressed right now has to do with the old way of dealing. Pick myself up, dust myself off and deal with whatever nightmare came next. Well, there's been too many nightmares and I just couldn't do it any longer. I am grieving a lot right now. Sorry to hi-jack, but I had to jump in, juicy thread. Peace.