The Shadowed Trauma

I have been trying to figure out what's so special in me, what value I hold. The more I think, the blanker my mind goes. Perhaps it is all of the mental and physical abuse I was forced to endure. All of her random episodes, those are what have caused me to look at myself and say you're nothing, you're miserable, you're a mistake.

Many overlook the trauma that is left behind, especially those that caused the drama, in my case my mother.

She constantly reminded me that if she reacted in an extreme behavior it was my fault and I deserved to be treated that way. I don’t think a second grader should have been beaten for wearing silver lipstick on picture day, I must be punished for having fun. Getting beaten because my hair has not been done yet, I must be punished for not knowing how to properly do my hair in third grade.

I was an innocent child that had to experience agony and see my siblings shout painful cry’s. Racing to the bathroom, whoever got there first was momentarily safe.

Negligence, she told us she loves us but a person that truly loves you, cares for you wouldn’t treat you that way. They wouldn’t expose you to that sort of behavior.

“No mom, please stop, it hurts” holding my breath to try and lighten up the blows. Us trying to get away would cause her anger to grow and make the punishment crueler.

I thought that the physical part of the abuse was the worst. I just had to wait and learn that the mental abuse was my true enemy.

So many years have gone by and it’s only been until now that I realized that the words she used to mask the torment caused me to be on her side. I justified her actions, I shouldn’t have stayed after school with my sister I deserved the beating, I should’ve done my little sisters hair neater although I should be punished for not doing good enough.

No, it is not okay. You are not okay.

To this day, I an adult still go through this, go through her. I shouldn’t stay here but I am too afraid to go.

She has a habit of switching up the stories, her words, they lure you to her.

The worst part of all this, I still love her. As a matter of fact, everything I do is for her, to finally get the approval, the attention. All those years of being ignored have lead me to crave her attention. Yet she makes me so insecure.

This is what abuse does to you. It makes you believe that the person truly cares for you when in reality all they care about is themselves.

There is one thing I want to say before I go. You ruined my life before it even started.

Growing up the way I did made me long for a mother like the ones you see on the television screens. The ones who would have grounded you rather than beat you as punishment. The one that would say I love you because they meant it not because they wanted you to do what they wanted. A mother who would be your friends, not teach you to fear her.

I fear my mother so much that I learned everything I possibly could to avoid her.

I know the noise she makes when she’s walking, I know that when I hear her necklace she is close, I know when the shouting begins it’s best to hide. I learned that being depressed is not an option, yet she claimed to be depressed.

I learned that my pain was unimportant but hers required the attention of the world.

What I hate from this are the flashbacks from the things I don’t want to REMEMBER.

I was a child.