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L.j. Offline
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Is it abuse, or am I just insane? - July 30th 2013, 05:30 AM

This thread has been labeled as triggering, particularly on the subject of peer pressure or bullying, by the original poster or by a Moderator. The contents of this thread might therefore not be suitable for certain sensitive users. Please take this into consideration before continuing to read.

Please, before reading this know that I love my mother.

I wish I could tell you that my mother used to be a kind, loving person. I wish I could say we used to have fun family picnics and days at the beach, but I honestly don't remember. I have no memory of her from before she became how she is.

As a kid, at school I was constantly mocked and bullied by my fellow peers. I had little to no friends by the time of fourth grade, when my best friend and protector moved away. My time of happiness occurred twice a week when I was pulled out of my regular class to participate in PACE (which stands for something I don't remember), a sort of Honors program for elementary students. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I would spend most of my day in a room with a teacher and my crush, who was actually a nice person when separated from the group of girls who hated me.

Somewhere during third grade, things started to fall apart in my family, or I just started to become aware of them. I know my mother and I started to fight. There is a distinct memory I have of my mother and I yelling in my room, and then she started crying. I remember this because I felt such terrible guilt, guilt that made me want to start crying myself, but I did not, because I wanted to appear strong. I can imagine myself now, an apathetic looking little girl who had just bullied her mother to tears. Sometimes, I comfort myself, thinking that when I cry, my mother is doing the same as I did when I was eight, telling herself not to show it when she feels terrible terrible guilt inside. I want to believe that this is true.

I don't remember how it happened or what went wrong first, but I started to resent being home. I also hated school, which left me no place to go. During the middle of third grade, I thought about running away, but those Tuesdays and Thursdays kept me going.

Still, during the beginning of fourth grade, I was still a fairly happy child, but during that school year, I changed drastically, starting to become depressed, burdened from everything going on in my life. My teacher was a wonderful person and a great mentor. She noticed something was wrong with me as time went on, and I was sent to the Counselor's. I remember being terribly nervous. I didn't want to tell anyone that I was being bullied. I was afraid they wouldn't believe me. I had tried to tell my mom before, but she had laughed it off, saying I was over dramatic. I did not want to tell anyone that things at home were starting to come apart. That was my personal life. When the Counselor began talking with me, I lied through my teeth and told her that everything was okay. That was the biggest mistake I ever made. If I had only told her the truth, things might be different than what they are now. Fifth grade was not that much different than the previous years, except things started to get slightly worse at home because my brother had entered high school and had gotten a B in one of his classes on his progress report. My mother was disappointed and upset.

When I started Middle School, things started to look up at first. I made friends in this new environment. There were issues with drama and such, but it was easy to get along with people. Things continued to get worse at home, such to the point where I became angry at myself and blamed myself for my family's problems. I ended up nearly failing three classes, which only led to my parent's anger back home (mostly my mother's anger, more of disappointment from my father). I remember my father calling me a spoiled brat behind my back at some point when talking to my mother. My brother and I were not all that close at this time, so I was not discussing my problems with him.

When seventh grade came along, my old middle school had closed for financial reasons, and I lost many friends as I transferred to a new one. I made a few, but none were as trustworthy. The year was less joyful than sixth grade, but much better than any year in elementary school, so I was happy enough. Things became increasingly worse. My mother began to drink more and more (or I just started to notice how much she was drinking). She never passed out or anything dramatic like that, but she got what I would call "ultra tipsy" and say some things she wouldn't remember the next day.

By eight grade, I ended up with plenty of friends, but home became worse and worse. I thought of suicide, but I had friends to stop me. I wouldn't be here without them. I started to share bits and pieces of my life at home with my friends, and they have urged me to get help, but I am confused by myself.

I know self-doubt is something caused by emotional abuse, but the thing is, when you doubt yourself, you doubt that you are being abused, and you doubt that it is self-doubt you are feeling. I am confused. I feel as if I am being abused by my mother. She constantly calls me nasty, and for the longest time, I thought that was my one defining trait. Sometimes, I still do. She controls everything I do, insisting that I do my homework at the kitchen table instead of my room, because if she does not watch me, I will not do it. This makes me feel like, in her eyes, the only thing I am good at is messing up, unless someone else is there, standing above me. She invades my personal space, coming into my room without knocking, even when she knows I am getting dressed. If I forget something in the shower, like a bar of soap, then she will bring it, but sometimes draw back the shower curtain for no apparent reason. She makes me feel worthless, even if she does not intend to. When I approach her with how I feel, she says I am being over dramatic.

My mother does tell me that she loves me, but sometimes I don't know how to feel about it. She sometimes say it after a fight and if she cries, and in a way I feel as if she's trying to manipulate me, but I am not sure. Perhaps I am just paranoid.

I am afraid that if she is abusing me and I tell somebody, I will be taken away from her, or something will happen. I have a good overall extended family. It would be a disgrace to have something like this happen. I do not want to be the cause of something. I just want to feel safe and loved.

I just need to know, even if there is nothing I can do about it, is she abusing me? Or am I just fucked up anyway and making her appear to be an abuser in my mind?
   
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Re: Is it abuse, or am I just insane? - July 30th 2013, 03:36 PM

I think you may be struggling with emotional distress from your mother's behavior towards you and i think she may also be verbally abusing you which is a type of abuse and any abuse is not okay, especially if it made you want to kill yourself


Life goes on. People move on. It'll be okay.
   
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Re: Is it abuse, or am I just insane? - July 31st 2013, 12:57 AM

What if it's all in in my head and she's right, and I'm the crazy one, not her?
   
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