I saw online last night an obituary which was written by the daughter of a woman who had been brutally abusive to her children throughout their childhood and their lives. It exposed what I will call Mommy Dearest for what she was, then pointed to organizations which deal with and help to prevent child abuse. I thought it was cathartic for the daughter to expose her mother's dirty little secrets and helpful to bring child abuse to the surface instead of letting it get swept under the rug. Physical and verbal abuse of children, even throughout adulthood, is just not acceptable. It resonates through my mind at times when I am trying to sleep. Some parents don't understand the damage they are creating when they verbally abuse their children -- sure, there are no marks to be seen by teachers or nurses, but that parent's voice will resonate in a child's head throughout adulthood. Parents, please get help if you cannot handle your children. Even if it means dropping them off at a day care center for a day so that you can have some "me" time. Our children are gifts from God. I wonder what He thinks when he sees some of these horrendous acts taking place. Love your children and it will be returned tenfold. Give generously of your time.
As my mom’s dementia progressed she kept stating that she couldn’t understand how one of my sisters had run away and was never heard from again. We know she is alive. I say that if that is the only way that my sister could survive living then good for her to get away.
Many of my best, calmest years of my life, were when I didn’t have contact with my siblings and parents.
Since I was the “responsible” one in our family, and the one who appeared to be the most successful in life, it was me whom my parents turned to in their later years to help them with various problems.
When my father became ill I got sucked back in again. Now, I have my mom living in our house with my husband and our two dogs.
For now, she appears to be kind and considerate. There are not many signs of that person who pulled my hair and kicked me, beat me with the belt 40-50 times at a time, or called me every name in the book.
Will she show up again, it’s quite possible. All I know is that while she is a civil person to me and in need of my help, I will take care of her and be kind to her. More than she ever gave us girls.
I don’t think I would have the desire, or feel it appropriate, to post this information on her obituary. I pray it brought comfort to the person who did to her parent. It seems so sad.
So, drugs, alcohol which were not the problem in my case & emotional or mental health of the abuser sometimes but I still wonder what is the reason. Especially when there are 2 parents doing the abusing. They can't or shouldn't both be suffering from mental illness. They could be from chemicals I guess. I do wonder if these adult children have found it therapeutic at all to think about what was wrong with their parents that made them abuse. Or if anyone has done any kind of stats or studies into why abuse occurs.
My mother was the most abusive. Later on I found out that was how her grandmother had treated her when she was forced to live with her as a young teenager. It doesn’t excuse her behavior. It was horrible. I never wore short sleeves or long pants because I was afraid the welts would show and someone would notice. As a teenager I did rebel. I ran away often. I even turned them in to the authorities. Several of my friends parents wanted to adopt me to get me out of the house. But, my parents would have nothing of it and I ended up marrying my first husband at an early age, having my beautiful son, and divorcing young.
I ended up remarrying in my late 20’s and have not repeated the cycle with my son. I am proud of that. He is a successful person and loves his daughter and family.
When I was a child I always looked at my family from the outside looking in. I often wonder if that child stayed back there and that was how I survived. All I know is that I did. I’ve experienced some major issues as an adult too but I think developing my tough skin and bottom at an early age helped with that.
When people look at my mother they see this sweet old lady who has trouble walking. I don’t know what I see when I look at her. I care about her because she is my mother. I will take care of her for as long as I can, or when she gets Medicaid qualified, whichever comes first.
Did I cry when my father passed away. NO.
Will I cry when my mother passes away. Possibly. That may be because I am spending this time with a different woman than the one that I grew up with.
My mother raised my niece and nephew, because she confiscated them and chased my youngest sister away. She treated them a little nicer but was still abusive, both verbally and physically.
My mother WAS raising a 9 year old great grandchild before we removed her from her home. She treated her a little better. Last year I saw my mother try to stab one of the great grandchildren (brother to the little girl) with a pencil when he made her mad. My niece was willing to let my mother watch these children for weeks on end so that she could go out and party. My niece was extremely upset when we told her she had to raise her own daughter and we were taking my mom out of the house. I honestly believe we did those children a major favor but my niece believes were evil and took away the only things my mom cared about.
Sad all around.
These days I'm amused to watch her with others who see a sweet little old lady. Until they cross her.
So now I understand that her nastiness toward me as a child and on into adulthood is the logical result of the fact that I stick up for myself and get in her face when she behaves inappropriately. And since I've had that type of personality since birth (Aries), it makes sense that my life became miserable when I was three years old and we left my godfather's home when Dad got out of the Navy, followed shortly by the birth of my sweet, passive little sister. My life as an Italian-American princess was over.
What a pain in the you-know-what I must have been to my 20-something mother. She is the spoiled youngest of seven children and never really grew up herself. (This is not her second childhood; she's still in her first.) I'm almost to the point where I can laugh about it.
Of course it wasn’t funny back then because my survival depended on her. And I have to acknowledge that she did meet my needs for shelter, food and basic care. But while there were extras for my two younger sisters, when I wanted something it never was possible for one excuse or another.
Dad was a sweetie and on the other hand he left me to her un-tender mercies. Only in extreme cases did he stand up to her. Otherwise I was the only one. So when I left at 18 to go to college and then work in another city, they closed ranks behind me and everyone tippy-toed around to avoid setting her off. As a result, she became more of a tyrant and for many years disrespected Dad in front of other people.
Since Dad died 10 years ago I’ve stayed with Mom. There were some skirmishes at first until she realized I couldn’t be pushed around. To her credit she has more or less adapted. Most of the time we live in harmony, mainly because I’ve learned to sidestep the arguments she loves to start. She still has temper tantrums, especially now that dementia has set in. And she uses sneaky ways to get even for real or imagined offenses. But the Seroquel and Aricept help.
Based on my experience, in general I would advise abuse victims to turn over to others the care of bad parents if at all possible. Or, if you can protect yourself emotionally and physically, there’s much to be gained from taking a close and objective look at someone’s behavior and contemplating how that impacted a little kid (you).
Even with conscious loving detachment, this process can be unpleasant. I’m in touch with my love for Mom and my gratitude for her having brought me into the world. But I don’t always like her much.
I’ve found, though, that this experience has helped me heal old wounds and let go of grudges. And some days I already can laugh at how seriously I took all the nonsense, before I finally became a big girl.
Blessings to everyone on this path.