Quote:
Originally Posted by TryingToMoveForward
I've decided that I don't want to break the things I own. LOL They cost too much money and chances are I can't afford to replace them. So I beat on cushioned surfaces to prevent injury but also achieve that level of aggressive satisfaction. The only person I have ever blown up to was my mom. She was the abuser in my life, and she's always had a grudge against me because my dad treated me like I was precious. It made her jealous. I'm pretty certain she doesn't love me. But I basically told her everything I've wanted to say the past 15 years. She denies abusing me, but I have PTSD as evidence for it. At this point I'm okay with her not loving me. She has never been the mom I need, and she never will be.
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I can't tell you how many times I wished we had a heavy bag in the house. I've never broken anything - my tirades are usually just verbal. But there were so many times I could FEEL it boiling over and I just wished it was there to really lay into.
About moms.....
My mother was effed up. When I started therapy my therapist gave me this questionnaire about my childhood and it asked me to list 5 words that describe my relationship with my mother. The first 3 came easy and they were all bad. I think that one thing that I learned from therapy so far is that my childhood was pretty effed up. I wasn't BEATEN. I wasn't even really verbally abused. But I was definitely manipulated and neglected. One of the first words that came was violated. I used to keep a journal RELIGIOUSLY. I poured my heart and soul into that thing. She read it and the crazy thing is she couldn't keep her mouth shut about it.
When I was like 12 I'd written about the fact that my aunt and grandmother were coming over and how I wasn't looking forward to it b/c I didn't like either one of them. She was like, "So you don't like Nanny and Aunt Patsy?" But the icing on the cake is I was in a BAD situation and I wasn't sure how I was going to handle it. I got away to my best friends house out of state for a few days and my mom read my diary. You would think that's enough right? No, she didn't like what she saw (it had to do w/ my then boyfriend) and she told the WHOLE FAMILY ABOUT IT! I'm glad I had an ounce of sanity left b/c when I found out I imagined laying all the diaries around her while she slept and burning her in bed with them. I actually sat there wondering if I could plead insanity if I was getting my son and baby sister out of the house.
And here's the thing - even without therapy my sister was able to be compassionate. The short story is Mom went off the rails when Dad died. My sister was YOUNG - 19? Early 20s, when she said to me, "She lost the love of her life. I don't know if I could have handled it any better."
What's crazier still is for all of this, I'm pretty sure I was still Mom's favorite. We got a lot closer when I moved 1200 miles away. I'm glad I had that b/c she passed last year.