[dalila]

[b]<font color="green">Last night dreamt about being made to wash the dishes for my mother -- a week’s worth of dishes. I don't know what I had done this time, it didn't matter; she didn't have to do them. Anything didn’t meet her expectations was put back into the dishwater. Whenever she felt I was dawdling or not working or not fast or thorough enough. She would use the belt to urge me on. I couldn't run away from her there. The sink was next to a corner and I would be trapped. I think I filled that sink with tears as much as with hot soapy water.

It felt like she saved the dishes and laundry up to use for my punishments. I hated the dishes. I hated housework. I hated me.

She started controlling my emotions or the expressions on my face around this time too. ‘Wipe that look off your face!’ ‘Who do you think you are to look at me like that?’ she would hit me then, usually knocking me to the ground. I remember trying to roll away from her, I thought she was going to kick me, but she never did that. She did use that belt sometimes. She might grab my arm or my hair and ‘help’ me to get up. She would stand there her face in mine screaming at me. I wanted to gag cos her breathe was so bad. If the slightest frown or grimace crossed my face, she would slap me. If I was smiling, you hit me. I don’t know what you wanted from me but you accepted deadpan.

More than 30 years later, I can feel the terror sweep over me just thinking about you back then. I can feel the blows and smell your breathe. I can feel the headaches and the ache in my legs from standing there being scolded. Was I really that bad?

I remember trying to talk to you about an allowance or being paid for doing dishes regularly. Why were you so insulted? I watched the boys; I cleaned up their diapers that you left to soak in the toilet, most of the time. When I didn’t and just peed next to them, or moved one just enough that I could use the toilet and not rinse it you got so mad. It was so nasty rinsing and wringing out those diapers. I didn’t poop in them nor was I the mother of those babies. Why should I have had to clean up that mess?

I don’t have a childhood and I wasn’t allowed to just be a sister to my brothers. You made me into a ‘spare’ mother so that you could work and not have to pay anyone. After all, you were putting food on the table for me and a roof over my head and clothes on my back. I should have been grateful and thrilled to help any way I could. Never mind that my father had done that for all those years and would have continued to care for us. However, you had to have that other man. Well I wish you well of him. I wish I felt I could tell you what he did, what he said how I felt. I was afraid you would lose your mind and the beatings would be worse than ever before.
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[Mystry]

((((Dalila))))

[Rhapsody]

I am so SORRY - (tears)
What can I do for YOU right now? - if any thing ((( hugs )))

LoVe,
Rhapsody -

[Evangelista]

((Dalila))

I am the eldest child of 6, 5 younger sisters, my mother was both a victim and an abuser, she married abuser, after abuser, 3 of them, and is now back with an ex.... I am so sorry for your pain and suffering and that you were forced to be the surrogate mom and not only had your childhood stolen by abuse, but that you did not have the support, guidance, and love that are the building blocks to an healhy adulthood. I hope you find comfort and seek support for what you are going thru with the nightmares and the trauma behind them, being betrayed by your mom..is a feeling I can relate too..the need to love the need to hate..push pull..can create such heart rendering pain and just a deep desire to ask "why"..I have a hard time creating relationships with either s*xes...right now 0 for 0..but my trust with women IRL is impossible..as I endured the abuse from the men in her life, while trying to be her parent and my sister's too..never understood how one moment you are a protector, the next an object to vent hate onto...back and forth..back and forth..crappy way to exist for anyone...especially a child..why all my T's are men...so online support is helping me grow and heal when I see others *especially women* struggling, supporting, and..surviving...

After being betrayed by a same s*x parent it is healing reaching out to them (women) in a safer virtual enviroment .. I dont know why but it is...kind regards Dalila..and hope for all the best as you try and cope with your nightmares and the hurt...

[Sabrina]

(((Dalia)))

[wisewoman]

I am sorry. I think I could have written this. Peace

What a brave woman you are, Dalila. that was so touching to read that story, how awful it must have been to endure such violence so often.

Its positive that you are talking about it.

You sound amazing, with so much strength and bravery, to be alive today after experiencing some awful beatings from your mother. to be able to "watch the boys", clean up after them and your mother, and with stand all that evilness, is something no child should EVER experience, or adults.

Thos memories must be sickening, when i was reading your story i placed myself in your shoes whilst reading, and that was bad enough, just imagining it, so i dare to think how bad it is for you. you are in the right place though, we will all support you through this, and hopefully, in time, those memories should become distant. and even though you will never forget them entirely, they can be cleansed.

Well done for having so much bravery and courage to speak out about it, there is alot to be learnt from people like you.

take care and stay strong.

[dalila]

<font color="green"> Thank you, all of you. For whatever reasons this is where I am stuck. My therapist says I am not quite ready to work on this stuff and told me to let it go for now and see if we can get at it a different way. I dissociated several times and had several panic attacks. During this session. I was surprised at how good I have gotten at calming down again. Nevertheless, I was totally exhausted. She said to stop working on it and just live with it for now. I can’t figure out what else to do with it all – the flashbacks have been awful, I feel the blows; I smell the house, the dishes; I hear the sounds right down to clinking of the dishes in the sink and the whistle of the belt. I have relived being hit across my shoulder so many times I have rubbed it sore. I know I will get through. I just don’t know when. </font>