imstillalive
Learning
I'm 25 years old now, and ever since I was 5 years old I've been physically and emotionally abused by my alcoholic mother. I remember as a child I had to help her change out of her soiled clothes after a night of drinking alone. Since my father couldn't stand her, he abandoned us for most of my life until they decided to get a divorce when I was 9 years old. She constantly berated me and blamed me for all her problems. I have an earlier memory of her coming home drunk and I was 7 years old at the time. She ranted about how she hated her life and staggered around the room while I tried to help her change into her pajamas. In a panic, I tried my best to wrap my arms around her waist to keep her from toppling over while she wandered towards the bathroom. She started undoing her pants and I helped her as she started to relief herself into the toilet. I cried as she drunkenly slapped my face, telling me I was a useless child and how she regrets having me because having me ruined her life. She was always meant for better things she told me. My father watched in disgust as I grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper and folded it to help her wipe since she wasn't able to. We eventually got her to bed and my father left to go stay with his family members because he couldn't deal with us. When he left she got up and went on her drunken ramblings, I tried my best to follow her and plead her to go back to bed. She eventually fell on top of me and I tried for a while to get her off, I eventually got too tired to fight her off and cried myself to sleep, hugging her on the kitchen floor. The next morning, I woke up to her angrily kicking me awake. She had an idea what must've happened and knew she was the one that caused this but she was in too much denial to admit it.
Eventually she pushed away all family members and it was just my mom and I against the world. She taught me that it was only "us" against the world and no one else. Ever since then she has never stopped her drinking, I went through life struggling in school for the most part because I was too focused on her. Since she was overprotective of me I didn't have much friends and went right home every day after school. Wherever she went I would go with her (including her job) and it was the same vice versa. I've kept the abuse a secret since I felt no one could help me.
There was too much stress in my life for me to finish high school. At one point I did extremely well until she went on her drunken binges again. I would skip my classes to go home to her and listen to her rant about her life and how I was an awful child, a mistake. She has tried numerous times to commit suicide but has failed each time. One day she told me she was going to jump off a bridge and take me with her so that we can be together forever. She said it so casually and often, it scared me. I never thought I would survive past the age of 18 years old. I knew one day she would take me out and herself, it was a matter of when, a waiting game for me.
During her drunken blackouts she woke me up in the middle of the night with a knife threatening to kill me and then herself. I got on my knees and begged her and pleaded for forgiveness. I even remember wrestling the knife away from her while she tried to jab at her chest. She eventually passed out once again on the kitchen floor and I grabbed all sharp, pointy silverware and hid it under a couch cushion. I was hoping I would wake up before her the next morning so I could recover the hidden items and put it in the original place but instead woke up to a slap to the face. In a hungover rage, she asked where the silverware was. I couldn't think up a fast enough lie so I casually told her, she got a little out of hand the night before so I put everything away. She hated hearing about the things she would do and whenever I would tell her she would angrily dismiss it. Getting even angrier and become more abusive towards me so I eventually just stopped telling her.
She was smart enough to not punch me in the face because there would be marks. She kicked and punched me in the stomach and at my legs. When I was younger and endured her abuse she would apologize to me after with tears and sorrow in her eyes. As I got older the abuse continued but her apologies stopped. Whatever she could blame me for she did. If she spilled some milk on the counter she would blame me, even if she was happy at the time. I learned to be very alert living with her, I knew not to spill things and to be careful what I said and to never challenge her.
Food was scarce since she was too depressed and lazy to make meals. Ever since the divorce she found that being a single mother was too hard. She had to save every penny she could, that meant being extremely frugal with everything. Depending on if it was a good day for her, there would be food for me to eat, if she was having a bad day I would go hungry for the night. Since I didn't always eat lunch at school I would sometimes sneak a small stick of butter into my backpack and rip off tiny pieces to snack on during lunch. I made sure to discreetly do it because I knew if I got caught I would have to face the consequences. On good days when she made food she always made an abundance of the same things, which is usually chicken. She would boil it until it was very dry and we would eat it for an entire month. I remember many years of my life eating spoiled food with her because she was too ignorant to see it was already pass the expiration date.
There was one time when she took a family value pack of pork chops out of the freezer, we must've had it for a year at least. Since she doesn't understand about raw meat safety she would leave cooked pork on the stove in our apartment for a few days before putting it back into the fridge. Eventually maggots grew in the meat. I had no idea until she took it out of the freezer one day and asked me if I was hungry. Of course I was hungry, I thought about food constantly. Once she started thawing out the meat, I knew something was wrong, the smell was so pungent it was indescribable. I gagged as she fried the maggot infested pork chops on a pan. I told her the meat must've went bad and there were worms in the meat. She ignored me for a while and called me delusional as I told her I would not be having any. While even cooking the meat the smell was too vile to bear I had to go into my bedroom and put my head under the blanket. My eyes watered and my gagging reflexes took over as she brought the cooked pork over to me. Many times she tried to cram the pork into my mouth and while most times I would submit to her, I dodged. This continued on for another 30 minutes until she gave up and cursed at me while she ate.
It's hard not being able to reach out to anyone about this. I didn't know or felt safe telling family or friends my story. I didn't think anyone would've helped. At one of my lowest points in life, sophomore year I swallowed a half a bottle of her seizure medication hoping to overdose. I made sure she was at work when this happened, but my body eventually rejected the medication and I violently vomited.
My senior year of high school I eventually dropped out. Till this day she never found out about it. I was too depressed and had too many unexcused absences to pass. I only needed 2 more classes to get my diploma but the problem is she never knew about my failing grades. I was more afraid of her then, then dropping out of school. I knew I couldn't go home and tell her instead of going to college this upcoming fall I was to repeat high school. I made a quick and rash decision (the best decision of my life). I dropped out of school a couple months before graduation. I had to forge her signature since it was required by law to have parental consent if a minor was to drop out of school. I planned to get my GED and lucky enough for me it was just a down the street from my high school. I was determined to get my GED and start college that fall. I wasn't sure if it was even possible since I heard from some students it took them 1 year to complete. I felt completely hopeless but knew I had to do it. Who knows what she would've done to me if she found out I failed and dropped out of high school. Luckily for me, I passed and received my GED in 3 weeks and was able to apply to a local community college nearby.
I continued to live with her for another 2 years until I decided to transfer to a University an hour away from her. I was 20 years old by then but still visited her every weekend, once a week. It was more of a requirement I felt than an option. Of course I was an adult then and I could've said no, but I didn't know how. Even through the worse snow storms whether rain or shine, I made sure to show up every weekend to see her. Still it's never enough, she berates me that I never care about her. When all I do it think about her all week, think about the food I can prepare to bring down for her or any good things in my life I would give or try to save up to buy for her.
I am 25 years old now. Since a few months ago I started seeing a therapist, he explained that that I have severe PTSD. He has suggested for me to read Buddhist philosophy on letting go and forgiveness. He has introduced meditation and deep breathing exercises to me. It works for the time being but hopefully more practice will strengthen me mentally. I still go up and visit her every weekend, while she is no longer physically abusive, she is still emotionally. I am still constantly blamed for her loneliness.
I hope one day I can put my foot down and stop visiting her. It's emotionally scarring and I have nightmares about her constantly. I worry about her constantly, I put her ahead of myself and my boyfriend. If there is ever any joy in my life, I want her to experience it with me. I have a problem of being able to separate her and myself. We have not lived with each other for 7 years already but it's as I never left the house. I am plagued every minute of the day of guilt and responsibility over her. Logically, I understand we are 2 different people, and I am not responsible for anyone’s happiness but myself but I can't help but feel this constant guilt. It doesn't help that I "need" to report to her twice a day by the phone either. It's a habit that I was taught since I moved away from her. Now it's turned into this neurotic obsession and false notion that in order for her to be okay with me is if I call her twice a day to let her know I'm okay, every day. It's gotten to the point that I can't do daily house chores or even the simple things in life like watching tv. I sit there and obsess and worry about her, worry if she'll call me in her drunken haze or worry she'll call me and tell me something bad happened to her today or just her being unhappy. I keep putting her needs over mine, it's like her pain is mine. That is what I need to learn to separate.
There's too much things too say but not enough to explain everything. I'm glad I found a forum that some other people may relate to. I'm hoping there are other people out there that can relate to my story. I'm generally a very private person and have only told 2 people about my story. My boyfriend and my therapist. I hope I can get relief from this one day. Life is way too short to be worrying so much. There's too much pain in the world and people less fortunate than myself I want to help some day.
Eventually she pushed away all family members and it was just my mom and I against the world. She taught me that it was only "us" against the world and no one else. Ever since then she has never stopped her drinking, I went through life struggling in school for the most part because I was too focused on her. Since she was overprotective of me I didn't have much friends and went right home every day after school. Wherever she went I would go with her (including her job) and it was the same vice versa. I've kept the abuse a secret since I felt no one could help me.
There was too much stress in my life for me to finish high school. At one point I did extremely well until she went on her drunken binges again. I would skip my classes to go home to her and listen to her rant about her life and how I was an awful child, a mistake. She has tried numerous times to commit suicide but has failed each time. One day she told me she was going to jump off a bridge and take me with her so that we can be together forever. She said it so casually and often, it scared me. I never thought I would survive past the age of 18 years old. I knew one day she would take me out and herself, it was a matter of when, a waiting game for me.
During her drunken blackouts she woke me up in the middle of the night with a knife threatening to kill me and then herself. I got on my knees and begged her and pleaded for forgiveness. I even remember wrestling the knife away from her while she tried to jab at her chest. She eventually passed out once again on the kitchen floor and I grabbed all sharp, pointy silverware and hid it under a couch cushion. I was hoping I would wake up before her the next morning so I could recover the hidden items and put it in the original place but instead woke up to a slap to the face. In a hungover rage, she asked where the silverware was. I couldn't think up a fast enough lie so I casually told her, she got a little out of hand the night before so I put everything away. She hated hearing about the things she would do and whenever I would tell her she would angrily dismiss it. Getting even angrier and become more abusive towards me so I eventually just stopped telling her.
She was smart enough to not punch me in the face because there would be marks. She kicked and punched me in the stomach and at my legs. When I was younger and endured her abuse she would apologize to me after with tears and sorrow in her eyes. As I got older the abuse continued but her apologies stopped. Whatever she could blame me for she did. If she spilled some milk on the counter she would blame me, even if she was happy at the time. I learned to be very alert living with her, I knew not to spill things and to be careful what I said and to never challenge her.
Food was scarce since she was too depressed and lazy to make meals. Ever since the divorce she found that being a single mother was too hard. She had to save every penny she could, that meant being extremely frugal with everything. Depending on if it was a good day for her, there would be food for me to eat, if she was having a bad day I would go hungry for the night. Since I didn't always eat lunch at school I would sometimes sneak a small stick of butter into my backpack and rip off tiny pieces to snack on during lunch. I made sure to discreetly do it because I knew if I got caught I would have to face the consequences. On good days when she made food she always made an abundance of the same things, which is usually chicken. She would boil it until it was very dry and we would eat it for an entire month. I remember many years of my life eating spoiled food with her because she was too ignorant to see it was already pass the expiration date.
There was one time when she took a family value pack of pork chops out of the freezer, we must've had it for a year at least. Since she doesn't understand about raw meat safety she would leave cooked pork on the stove in our apartment for a few days before putting it back into the fridge. Eventually maggots grew in the meat. I had no idea until she took it out of the freezer one day and asked me if I was hungry. Of course I was hungry, I thought about food constantly. Once she started thawing out the meat, I knew something was wrong, the smell was so pungent it was indescribable. I gagged as she fried the maggot infested pork chops on a pan. I told her the meat must've went bad and there were worms in the meat. She ignored me for a while and called me delusional as I told her I would not be having any. While even cooking the meat the smell was too vile to bear I had to go into my bedroom and put my head under the blanket. My eyes watered and my gagging reflexes took over as she brought the cooked pork over to me. Many times she tried to cram the pork into my mouth and while most times I would submit to her, I dodged. This continued on for another 30 minutes until she gave up and cursed at me while she ate.
It's hard not being able to reach out to anyone about this. I didn't know or felt safe telling family or friends my story. I didn't think anyone would've helped. At one of my lowest points in life, sophomore year I swallowed a half a bottle of her seizure medication hoping to overdose. I made sure she was at work when this happened, but my body eventually rejected the medication and I violently vomited.
My senior year of high school I eventually dropped out. Till this day she never found out about it. I was too depressed and had too many unexcused absences to pass. I only needed 2 more classes to get my diploma but the problem is she never knew about my failing grades. I was more afraid of her then, then dropping out of school. I knew I couldn't go home and tell her instead of going to college this upcoming fall I was to repeat high school. I made a quick and rash decision (the best decision of my life). I dropped out of school a couple months before graduation. I had to forge her signature since it was required by law to have parental consent if a minor was to drop out of school. I planned to get my GED and lucky enough for me it was just a down the street from my high school. I was determined to get my GED and start college that fall. I wasn't sure if it was even possible since I heard from some students it took them 1 year to complete. I felt completely hopeless but knew I had to do it. Who knows what she would've done to me if she found out I failed and dropped out of high school. Luckily for me, I passed and received my GED in 3 weeks and was able to apply to a local community college nearby.
I continued to live with her for another 2 years until I decided to transfer to a University an hour away from her. I was 20 years old by then but still visited her every weekend, once a week. It was more of a requirement I felt than an option. Of course I was an adult then and I could've said no, but I didn't know how. Even through the worse snow storms whether rain or shine, I made sure to show up every weekend to see her. Still it's never enough, she berates me that I never care about her. When all I do it think about her all week, think about the food I can prepare to bring down for her or any good things in my life I would give or try to save up to buy for her.
I am 25 years old now. Since a few months ago I started seeing a therapist, he explained that that I have severe PTSD. He has suggested for me to read Buddhist philosophy on letting go and forgiveness. He has introduced meditation and deep breathing exercises to me. It works for the time being but hopefully more practice will strengthen me mentally. I still go up and visit her every weekend, while she is no longer physically abusive, she is still emotionally. I am still constantly blamed for her loneliness.
I hope one day I can put my foot down and stop visiting her. It's emotionally scarring and I have nightmares about her constantly. I worry about her constantly, I put her ahead of myself and my boyfriend. If there is ever any joy in my life, I want her to experience it with me. I have a problem of being able to separate her and myself. We have not lived with each other for 7 years already but it's as I never left the house. I am plagued every minute of the day of guilt and responsibility over her. Logically, I understand we are 2 different people, and I am not responsible for anyone’s happiness but myself but I can't help but feel this constant guilt. It doesn't help that I "need" to report to her twice a day by the phone either. It's a habit that I was taught since I moved away from her. Now it's turned into this neurotic obsession and false notion that in order for her to be okay with me is if I call her twice a day to let her know I'm okay, every day. It's gotten to the point that I can't do daily house chores or even the simple things in life like watching tv. I sit there and obsess and worry about her, worry if she'll call me in her drunken haze or worry she'll call me and tell me something bad happened to her today or just her being unhappy. I keep putting her needs over mine, it's like her pain is mine. That is what I need to learn to separate.
There's too much things too say but not enough to explain everything. I'm glad I found a forum that some other people may relate to. I'm hoping there are other people out there that can relate to my story. I'm generally a very private person and have only told 2 people about my story. My boyfriend and my therapist. I hope I can get relief from this one day. Life is way too short to be worrying so much. There's too much pain in the world and people less fortunate than myself I want to help some day.
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