In Defense of my Mother

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I had intended to write a couple of follow up articles to Childhood: Then and Now, but something terrible happened. That damn article made it to the front page of reddit and got hundreds of comments. Which, in itself, isn’t a bad thing. I just made the mistake of reading said comments.

I should have known better.

Generally, I avoid reading feedback about my site like the plague. First of all, I’m boring. Second of all, it usually gives me a headache. I’ve been far too busy lately to nurse a throbbing skull.

Don’t get me wrong, most everyone said something humorous (intentionally or not) and a handful even managed to come up with logical or insightful anecdotes/arguments.

But the idiots always bray the loudest, don’t they?

One dipshit even implied that all my stories must be fake because I periodically write about happy memories of my childhood/Mother/Home life. Apparently, these stories don’t make sense when peppered with stories of child abuse. Oh, gag me.

Can I please point out the obvious? If my life had been a nonstop horror show, I probably would have committed suicide by now. Seriously, let’s be real here.

Secondly, am I the only one who understands that people aren’t characters? Am I the only one who knows the difference between the two? Please God, tell me I’m not.

There is no such thing as a virtuous hero. There are no witty sidekicks. Real life doesn’t contain crazed super villains who exist only to kick puppies and give the star of the show a believable character arc. Reality and fiction are two totally different things. People are complex. Situations aren’t black and white. There is a spoon, people! THERE IS A GODDAMN SPOON!

The reason I can write about both good and bad memories of my Mother is because I have both good and bad memories of my Mother. She is not a character in a movie. She is a living, breathing human being. Thus, she is made up of shades of gray just live everyone else on this godforsaken planet. I know, I know. Shame on her for not following the fucking script.

My Mother totally lacked the ability to be physically affectionate with her children. Never in my life has my Mother kissed or hugged me. As a child, when crossing the street she would refuse to take my whole hand in hers. Instead, she would distastefully present me with her pinky finger to clutch. When we made it to the sidewalk, she would snatch it away as if I were a dirty, repulsive thing that caused her physical pain to touch. Now, I can also be kind of weird about touching small children. It just doesn’t feel normal to me.

On the other hand, my Mother never censored me. I could read or watch any damn thing I wanted. When my concerned 1st grade teacher called home after I brought Stephan King’s ‘Carrie’ to sustained silent reading, my Mother snapped at her. “My daughter is not an idiot,” she said, “She knows the difference between fantasy and reality.” I was so proud, I slugged through the entire book with a dictionary carefully balanced on my knee so I could look up the words I didn’t understand. I ended up reading at such an advanced level, I skipped grades in school.

My Mother had an extremely bad temper and almost zero patience for children. Imagined disrespect, loud noises in the morning, a chore done subpar…everything set her off. She would go from completely calm and serene to violently out of control in a split second. Anything within her reach would become a weapon. I was beaten with hot wheel tracks, burnt with hot curling irons, or stabbed with steak knives. In the absence of a suitable weapon, my Mother would simply grab me by the hair and repeatedly slam my head into hardwood floors or walls. I would quickly learn to go limp when she started on me. Crying or struggling always made it worse, so I took my punishments silently and stoically. Today, I have an extremely high tolerance for pain.

My Mother never catered to our dietary whims. When she fed us, she fed us well. Fruits, veggies, foods from every nationality or culture were foisted upon us. Now that I think about it, she really was an excellent cook. It’s a pity she wasn’t in her domesticated moods more often. Either way, though, neither me nor my brother are picky eaters and we have her to thank for that.

My Mother had a hard time finding her own identity; her personality changed with every new boyfriend she acquired. Nothing ever lasted for her and ultimately her romantic relationships would fail and her situational friends would disappear with them. I think…this made her feel very, very low. And when my Mother was feeling low, the only way she knew how to soothe herself was to tear someone else down to her level. Mostly, this was me. She said things to me that I can’t even bring myself to type today. It’s far easier for me, emotionally, to tell you about the time she set my hair on fire. That, at least, is funny in a darkly humorous sort of way. But the way my Mother used to scream at me, for hours on end, viciously slapping my cheeks should I nod off around 2am…no….I can’t find anything funny in that.

My Mother had a talent for taking apart every aspect of your personality, magnifying the bad, and twisting the good until it was bad, too, all in order to replace every emotion you’ve ever had with shame and self loathing. Sometimes my mind would break when she did this to me. I couldn’t hear her anymore. My my mind would be filled with wailing, this god awful wailing, that reminds me of a dying animal whenever I try to conjure up the memory. I would slump over during these times, eyes open but unseeing, with nothing but the sounds of sirens in my ears. I never went to school after a night of this. I needed time to learn to speak again.

I suppose you could read all of these things and come to the conclusion that the bad memories far outweighed the good. Perhaps you’d be right, but that doesn’t mean the good never existed. I guess you could read this and assume I hate my Mother. But you’d be wrong. Hating my Mother for being who she was would be akin to hating a rock for being a rock. It’s an exercise in futility to hate someone for being a product of their environment. If anything, the fact that she could do this to a helpless child just proves the depths of her own despair.

I’m still afraid of my Mother. But if I weren’t, I’d like to give her a hug. I wish I could tell her how sorry I am for whatever happened to her as a child that scarred her so deeply and drove her to this. I wish my Mother could learn how to feel love and empathy and find peace within herself and some semblance of joy in her life. I wish I could help her. But I can’t.

She’s broken. She’s broken beyond repair and it was inevitable that she’d lash out at someone. Secretly, I am glad this person was me. If only because I was able to take it. I like to pretend she picked me for this very reason. I like to think she ripped me apart not because she hated me, but because she knew I was strong enough to put myself back together again. God knows she always raised me to be tough. And if I am anything, I am tough. Tough as nails.

And I have her to thank for it.

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44 Responses to In Defense of my Mother

  1. VA: In Defense of my Mother

    […] Original post: In Defense of my Mother […]

  2. vraiment

    Whenever I read people’s pages or see their sites….I am DISGUSTED by all of the negative commentary from people. But as you said “the idiots bray the loudest”. They are always skeptical and negative for no cause BUT to be mean and negative.

  3. Prometheus

    This certainly is an interesting piece, and not that much of a defence, in many ways. That being said, I can see your overall point. In the battle of nature and nurture, each side plays its role-nobody with any credibility will tell you that either your genes or your environment is solely responsible for the person you are. And as you say-her lashing out towards her own progeny are demonstrations of the horrors that were undoubtedly visited upon her in her youth.

    However, I think you go too lightly on her in the final reckoning. You equate judging her to judging a rock for being a rock (presumably insofar as being furious at a rock for falling on and hurting you would be fruitless). But people are not rocks. We think, we change, and we have some control over ourselves. We are the products of our nature and the upbringing we received, but each of us is uniquely capable of change and growth in a way almost nothing else on this planet it-I would argue we are the one species truly capable of exceeding our raw programming. So to let someone off entirely due to the circumstances that influenced their personality does them and the human race a disservice, I feel. No matter how wretched your upbringing was, there are some things which are simply beyond the pale, verboten in every sense. You do not kill, you do not rape, etc.

    That being said, mitigating circumstances are just that: mitigating. I admire your ability to rise above, to see that influence her youth must have had in warping her world view, and your ability to forgive that, to whatever degree. I don’t say you should wholeheartedly condemn and vilify her, nor that she should be written off as a person. As there is for everything else, there is a balance to be struck here between condemnation and exoneration. We are adaptable animals, and must be held to a different standard than anything else. I am glad, however, that you were able to gleam some silver lining from all of the manifest tragedy you experienced-be it the toughness, the open-mindedness, or your clear desire to make the lives of any children you know better for having known you. I truly hope you have broken the cycle by doing so: too rarely are victims of abuse able to avoid visiting that same abuse on the next generation, and too rarely can those selfsame victims truly rise above and feel forgiveness and clarity about their mistreatment. I wish you all the best.

  4. kellydoodle

    I have always admired your ability to speak intelligently referring to your abuse and hold others accountable in comparison – if you could survive something terrible and still be a decent person, what was their excuse? Too many times, the sniveling and whining attempt to justify their awful behavior by pointing out past so-called traumas and I can’t help but wonder what would happen should someone challenge them to get over it. Your account should be that challenge – which is probably why the mommy bloggers don’t celebrate you since you don’t allow them any excuses.
    I’ve never looked at my mother from the perspective you see yours – that the only reason she picked me was because she knew I would survive it. Perhaps that’s why my grandmother chose my aunt. She, too, became a decent person and raised us to be decent as well. The cycle has ended with my generation and the children in our family are unaware of the abuses we suffered as children.

  5. Volatile

    VA,
    I just recently came across your site, I’m fairly sure I’ve read everything you’ve ever posted on this site. I feel kinda creepy saying that but god damn, your words have really helped me out in more ways than one. You’ve been the only person to be able to put words to the emotions and the feelings I’ve had. I guess what I’m really trying to say is, Thank You VA. Thank you so very much. Fuck everyone else and their bullshit, fuck the assholes that think they know what they’re talking about. They don’t. Nobody can truly understand what it’s like to be beaten down and taken down to a point where your brain literally becomes mush and there’s nothing more you can do other than curl into a ball because you’ve completely lost touch with reality. Until they understand what it’s like not to be able to have a member of the opposite sex touch them because every time they’re touched the only response they can think of is to hurt the person touching them. Until they know what it’s like to not have a family or to have one that’s so fucked up you made the decision as a child never to speak with them again, they need to shut their fucking mouths. Fuck them and their pseudo intelligence; they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. So VA do me a favor, keep writing, for the love of puppies keep fucking writing, you’re giving us a voice.

    -Volatile

  6. acehigh88

    I’ve been reading your blog from the start and have read your every post.

    I believe most of the stories are real, because sometimes your stories relate to mine. Keep it up, I’ve missed your frequent posts and your blog is a needle in a haystack, unique and enjoyable. Do not let those dolt’s bring you down.

    Empty Vessels make the most noise.
    Let them smear with their verbal diarrhea, nobody will stand their smell for long.

    True or false, your blog still is the most interesting. Keep writing.

  7. anastasia

    I completely agree with you that people aren’t characters. I think that people are really all the same on a deep level, and your “personality” is just a one dimensional image of yourself that you project, often unwittingly, into the world. Mothers really do have an awful amount of influence over their children. My mum had this thing where she always told me, when she was angry, that everyone despised me. Now, someone can call me ugly, call me a bitch and everything else under the sun… but say they despise me? That’s when I go mental. You yourself, V, seem rather unhinged, but everyone is in some way and I think you’re amazing because you survived that level of abuse, and at this point in life have achieved so much more than most other people. I don’t even want to imagine those things, so as they say, I take my hat off to you.

  8. kidcanuck

    I have nothing but platitudes, so I won’t concern myself with trying to sound anything other than appeasing. I’m glad you’re updating, you’re the only blogger I can stomach reading, and definitely the only one who is interesting enough.

  9. lostinthecrowd

    Your mom sounds insane, and definately unfit to be a parent. But even the worst people do have their good points. (Hitler, for instance, while a totally evil, genocidal, racist, megalomaniac, was also highly intelligent, a skilled orator and politician, loved his dog, and was apparently quite a good artist).

    That you can recognise your mother’s good points, and use the horrific abuse you suffered as a source of strength is a tribute to your character. Personally, I wouldn’t offer the bitch a hug, I’d tell her to burn in hell.

    A child being abused is tragic. An adult who perpetuates the cycle of abuse is evil. No matter what abuse she suffered, or how broken she was, she had a choice. If she couldn’t control her own actions while enraged, she should have sought counselling, sent you to live with your father, or put you in foster care.

  10. mkf

    towards the end of a book i read years ago, an older woman tries to wise-up a young girl by telling her that “the world is full of good people who do bad things, and bad people who do good things.”

    i’ve never forgotten the way the author framed that simple fact of life, and am continually astounded that complexity of character is so seemingly beyond most people’s ability to grasp.

    you get it, though, and it’s good that you do; otherwise, you’re right–you’d be dead by now (or worse, you’d be like her).

  11. Viola

    Thank you for explaining this. I have never really been able to explain how I found my sexually abusive father a better parent overall than my mother. There is a spoon. How true.

  12. Intrepid

    Well that wasn’t very funny.

  13. horribilis

    I can empathize completely. I was horrendously abused; besides being a porn star as a small child, I lived in fear of both my parents. But we had great Christmases and when I got good grades, we celebrated.

    The contrasts are the crazy-making stuff. But one needs them to survive.

    At this time in my life, and I’m middle-aged, I dislike children. I’m not comfortable around them at all and I don’t understand why they all seem so bratty and out of control.

    My own daughter is wonderful, but I had trouble touching her when she was little. I held her, hugged her, kissed her, held hands crossing the street, but I always felt conflicted about it. She’s grown up to be not very touchy-feely in her own life, though she is more that way than I am.

    I wrote an article on eHow recently, under the name of ‘ursaminor,’ about how to avoid unwanted hugs. Nobody has commented. I’m glad to know that I’m not the only one who needs that strategy.

    I am so glad you were able to wrench yourself loose and write another blog! I missed reading you. Thanks for being there.

  14. Sue.D.Nym

    “She’s broken. She’s broken beyond repair and it was inevitable that she’d lash out at someone.”

    She may have been broken, but I don’t know how you can come to the conclusion that it was “inevitable that she’d lash out at someone”.

    She was hurt, yes. But she chose to continue to spread her pain instead of dealing with it. She hurt you, probably similarly to the way she was hurt–but what did you choose to do? Yes, that’s right. Stop the cycle.

    She doesn’t have excuses. Why do you give her excuses? I know it is probably a coping mechanism of some sort.

    Eh, I don’t know. I was in therapy for the mild abuse I suffered from my father (I say mild because at least he didn’t sexually assault me!). The thing I struggle with is whether he should be held accountable for hurting me. Despite the fact he probably thought he was doing me a favor? Despite the fact that worse was done to him? What if he didn’t know of better ways to “discipline” me? Is he still culpable then? I vacillate between holding him accountable and making excuses for him…sort of what you did for your mother here.

  15. Declaro

    You know, every now and then I read your articles and I just completely shake my head and go “V’s got it all wrong,” but here (especially since it’s, y’know, an account of your life and not something that can really be debated) I felt like I was listening to my dad talk about his mother instead. Like you, he has these oddly mixed feelings on a woman that, to me, seems perfectly worthy of hate. But like you, he’s always said that he doesn’t hate her.

    I know this comment is kind of weird, but I just wanted to thank you, I guess.

  16. starrychloe

    OMG Maybe that is why I feel you are a kindred spirit! My mother abused me too. She threw coke bottles at me, banged my head against the wall, slapped me, etc. I ran away at 11 and didn’t even speak to her or allow myself to be seen by her until maybe 22 or so. We should meet up some time.

  17. Kelly

    I would have to say that I find your accpetence of your Mother as a human very refreshing. I also have a Mother that I love but know that she is just not whole. My childhood wasn’t great, but I always think that I wouldn’t be where I am today with a famlily of my own and happy children if I had any other childhood. So yea it wasn’t the movie or book happy childhood but I’m determined to make sure that I use that to make the life I do have better. I applaud you for doing the same!

  18. Felan

    Life isn’t what happens to you, its what you do when stuff happens.

    I don’t think abuse made me stronger or tougher, just more accustomed to deprivation. While my parents weren’t directly abusive themselves, my grandmother was. The greater pain stems from my parents and particularly my father who insists that my grandmother did good things for me. At one point in a heated exchange about the subject he asked me, “What do you want me to do? Stop loving my mother.” I would have liked to have responded with start loving me or at least apologize or recognize that I was hurting, but something curled up and died inside me that day. I surrendered and set out away from my family. I couldn’t find solace with them and could see no virtue in creating discord between them.

    For a long time there was guilt. I thought I must have been a terrible person but I could think of no other course. I cringe when people say things, “But they are your family, you have to love them.” Eventually I saw a program on HBO that talked about abuse (worse than mine) and kids that did get help were “usually” (word of the show) disowned by the family for bring a “family problem” to the attention of police, teachers, or such. It was a balm for my guilt as I concluded that my parents were incapable of addressing the issue effectively. Had I pressed the issue I’m sure they would have disowned me.

    It is curious though that every form of acceptance I’ve seen stems from someone being rendered incapable of choosing or doing differently.

  19. trustfarm

    This is really good. It reminds me of why, when I first stumbled upon this site, I spent the next few days reading through the whole thing non-stop. It’s tough to find someone willing to talk about this kind of thing in this way, which is too bad, because I think it’s important to understand and to be able to empathize with, even just a little bit.

  20. mindofspaz

    Shit. The worst my mom does is nag me because I haven’t given her any damned grandchildren.

  21. entropy

    violent acres, you rock!, your the coolest! I don’t understand why reading other people’s comments would bother you, but then i don’t write a blog and have thus never read any comments directed at me or my blog. Thanks for all the great reading material anyways. Is it possible to get a link to the reddit comments though, couldn’t find them by searching reddit.

  22. Jeremiah

    I have only read portions of your blog and stopped reading this article half way through. I cannot read much further for fear of bringing up memories of my own troubled past.

    Good posts and wonderful writing style. Mary me and move to the bahamas. Realize I have no money to make this request come true. Be even more pissed and write a better blog.

    Loved the bit about the meth and Sudefed.

  23. Kaobear

    It gives us all a form of strength when we read about the strength of others. You can say you broke, but I am of the opinion that you merely cracked and had the strength to put yourself back together each and every time and come back.

  24. Silver

    I envy your strength. I read your blog because of it. I have been through my own shit and it keeps coming at me. Mine wasn’t as bad as yours by far as a child but it was still pretty craptastic, and as life kept going it just seems to me I’m like a catcher without a batter in front of them…with the god damned pitcher throwing nothing but curve balls.

    Like you I look at each vat of crap life tosses my way as another chance to strengthen up…and every so often I crack too…

    Thank you for bringing your strength to a public forum

  25. mishu_e

    Ok, I hear what you are all saying about her mother knowing better and that she should have chosen to make the change….however….abuse begets abuse because in more than a few cases the abuse actually damages the person mentally. My adopted sister loves her son more than she can possibly express, but when he was 2 she had him taken and put in foster care. He was with us until he was 6. She has recently been diagnosed with “Personality Disorder” which, un-medicated, causes her to do things like fly into fits of rage that seem to come from nothing at all. She would cry that she didn’t know why she screamed at her son for something as simple as not understanding his math homework… she knew it was wrong, but couldn’t stop herself while it was happening….since being diagnosed and medicated, with the help of a therepist, she has turned into the most wonderful parent I have ever seen. At 13 he now the most thoughtful and caring child you could ever hope to meet. The cycle of abuse stopped because she had a support system that helped her find out what was wrong and how to fix it. If she was alone and had no one to help her, I beleive that she would have lost him permanently or she might have turned her pain on herself and he would be orphaned.

  26. morgue13-2

    People who claim your behavior is too irrational and variable for you to be real have clearly never taken a look at their own actions and compared their consistency, or at least they’re a lot more emotionally stable and normal than me. Oh, no, wait, it’s definitely that last one. But, seriously, I’d be more concerned if you remained the exact same person throughout your life. I sure as hell know I’ve come more than full circle in personality since I was a child, if not this week.

    On a pettier note, it’s been bugging me: someone please add a back-ground colour to the body on the CSS layout, you can’t just assume the end user’s default background colour is white, and yet the layout relies on it.

  27. Tor_Hershman

    You should read “My Life As A Small Boy” by Wally Cox.

  28. rubik

    Stop defending your mother and get busy. This post is really old. Like you.
    Just kidding, the post isn’t that old.

  29. eatmystilettos

    Your mother sounds like she has borderline personality disorder or BDP.

    Just like mine.

    I’m in the process of eliminating her from my life, at least by 95%. And no, I don’t have ANY positive memories of her that are personal – I can tell you she has a talent for certain things – interior design, gourmet cooking, art – but otherwise, no real positive memories associated with her treatment of MOI.

  30. paintedred

    A while ago I wouldn’t have understood this shit at all. People don’t understand this shit until they find out they know somebody who abuses children.

    My best friend’s older sister was sexually abused for over a decade by her father. I know him. I used to call him my “other father” and go to him if I needed help. Said older sister lives away from home now at age 16, and he’s frantically buying my best friend things she wants to keep her there too.

    He’s a pedophile, an abuser, a child molester. But he’s also a deeply shaken man who’s never had to acknowledge that using his eldest daughter as a fetishistic replacement for his ex-wife was wrong until she tried to kill herself. He’s scared. He’s becoming affectionate, but not so unusually much so as to make her and her friends uncomfortable.

    Everyone involved is tragic. I think it’s the same way with your mother- she had no personality of her own, and hurt you to make up for it. You’ve been strong enough to realize that you can’t spend your whole life as a tragedy, and I hope my friend and her sister do too.

  31. Jim

    What a great site this is. I came across it searching “Weddings are Stupid”, and wouldn’t you know I happened across your article of the same name. You so accurately conveyed the growing daily frustration I have with weddings in particular, I decided to read some of your other articles in the hopes I would find some more gems.

    Two hours later I was still reading. Still chuckling here and there or nodding my head in approval. I fully intend to check back here often and see what you have cooking.

    I read quite a bit, and I don’t know many folks who can pair common sense with words as well as you. Look forward to more!

  32. anastasia

    V? I know this is kind of off topic… well, OK it’s very off topic… but I JUST PLAYED THE MILLIE MEGAVOLTE GAME AND YOUR VOICE WASN’T THERE AT THE END. This is slightly annoying.

  33. LegalMist

    I am in tears reading this. Your mother’s actions were despicable and cruel, and still you refuse to hate her, and you even feel compassion for what she may have suffered as a child, and you strive to be a better person – either because of it or in spite of it.

    Just, wow.

    Your mother doesn’t deserve you.

    You did a great job raising yourself.

  34. Myroid

    Psssst, anastasia:

    http://www.milliemegavolte.com/media/Millie_1.mp3

    The game was mostly one giant dick move and for that I’m sorry.

  35. Bizzarefall

    My heart is in my throat – not because of what the (you)child went through, but because of how self aware, and whether you know it or not, undamaged you are in spite of it all.

    The first story sounded much like my childhood, I was alone from 4 or 5 and able to run the town swam in the same water 🙂
    But the abuse I received was not from my mother, who while giving nothing much else (especially protection from those that would do me harm), did give her love, wholeheartedly. I could not have asked for more.

    Keep writing… I like it, I like it a lot…. :p

  36. RL Julia

    I just found your blog. I can really relate to some of the craziness you went through as I had a less violent but similarly disorganized childhood. I also LOVED your three pieces about child rearing. Its totally what I do and my kids are super pleasant people to be with.

    Anyway, what I was really writing to you for was just to say that I am really sorry that you had such a terrible mom and childhood. I know that there isn’t really anything I can do or say to take that away from you (for better or worse) but I am sorry it happened to you. You were just a kid and you didn’t deserve to be manipulated and mistreated.

  37. anastasia

    Myroid: Thanks high 5! That was on my birthday as well… V you have a really nice voice!

    I’ve just read this again and, well, this doesn’t sound like much when it’s written but YOU ARE A FUCKING HERO.

  38. Lish

    You’ve put it as simply as it can be put: People are not characters. We are people and people don’t just decide to be mean, be sad, be stupid. We follow triggers in our minds.

    So that brings me to my conclusion of a comment: You have some serious forgiveness skills if you are able to say “I’d like to give her a hug”. Having the guts to say that after being able to write about what she’s done to you…that deserves a round of applause. A job well done on this article.

  39. Dax

    Write something new already. Everyone loves their mom, even if mommy gave them AIDS, cancer, the plague… and swine flu! Seriously.

  40. dcompton04

    I don’t understand how you can rant on and on about how much you hate your mother – and then write a post about how she wasn’t so bad. You either hate her or you don’t – it’s time for you to grow up and pick one.

    Let’s get over mommy-fest and write something new.

  41. Griffin

    Your experience with your mother sounds very similar to my experiences growing up.

    I am not ready to forgive my mother just yet, but I do have her out of my life and on the other side of the country. I won’t even go to her state. I’m not sure I hate her either, but I at least despise her very existence, so I won’t claim that just yet.

    Some people are just assholes. And some people like to make stupid comments when you’re not attacking that one thing they want to complain about themselves. Bah.

  42. unlikelyaristotle

    Dude. You might be tired of hearing this but a lot of your moms habits were like my moms.
    You sure are a tough person and I could see that from the way you stood up to fur coat lady (two phrases that destroy american culture post). I would NEVER have the guts to do that, although now that I know that it’s been done before, I might have the courage to speak up next time a poor employee/innocent person gets berated for nothing.
    It makes me sad to see your experiences weren’t greater with your mom, but at the same time you’re definitely PROOF of what doesnt kill you makes you stronger.

    In any case, kudos to moms who never censor their kids. It’s one thing I always hate hate hate about some parents and also because my parents never did that that I grew to LOVE reading.

  43. since1988

    There are many times i thought my mom was out of order too. Many times. She has always been close to me in a way but in a way shes very distant. I can’t share everything with her because she wouldn’t understand and she’s a very bad listener [talks too much]. My mom has a temper problem too… so does my dad….and so do i. I think it runs in the family. I still love my mom too after some of the things she said or did that have upset me. She did gave birth to me and raised me afterall. I have had a very happy childhood and I have become who I am today because of her.

    There are no other person in this world i’m scared of other than her. Because i don’t owe them anything…i owe her my life. You can replace anyone else in the world but you can never replace a mother.

    Im sorry that she took her anger out on you, both of my parents did too when they get stressed out, they will shoute at me because im the oldest daughter and they hold me responsible for a lot of things even if it has nothing to do with me.

    So I talk back to them and fight for my cases. That’s how I have learnt to fire comebacks. I took some shit from family because i care about them but i dont take shit from anyone else.

    My life- my rules.

  44. Mary

    I am amazed at your ability to take the negative experiences in your life and find the strength it has given you instead of letting it destroy your potential. I am not the victim of abuse, I am someone who has worked with youth and families my whole life and always marvelled at their strength to overcome. I take my hat off to you…..and wish you the best.

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