Childhood Confessions
My mom still holds it against me that I had a tantrum in a restaurant when I was 2. (They wanted to leave and I started screaming that I wanted the rest of my fries.) I don't mean that she uses it as an example of how hard it is to have kids, but that it's proof that I'm mentally unstable. It's the same with anything else I did as a kid that most would probably say are normal childish behavior. She has a mental dossier of all my crimes since birth. But, that's the incident she brings up the most.
Once when I was 3, she beat me up for giving her a hug. From the things she was shouting while she did that, I gather that she didn't want me touching her because she was too hot, but it's not like I knew that. Once when I was 9, my sister and I were both home sick and she kicked me out of the house for not being able to swallow the adult Tylenol.
Other times, she could be perfectly sweet and fun. We never knew which mood it would be or when she would suddenly rip the heads off our dolls for no reason. She had rage fits against our dad, too, but since he was an adult, there was less she could do and he could walk away.
Yet, outside of our immediate family, she was always controlled. Everyone else thought she was a kind, gentle woman who always went out of her way to help and accommodate others. She wouldn't even defend herself when a friend did something bitchy.
She has a lot of superficial friends and no close ones. When she would get on the phone, I could always tell if she was talking to someone from our immediate family (or her younger brother) by her relaxed tone of voice, instead of the forced cheerful, friendly tone. She had to go to every party she was ever invited to and if there was any chance kids were allowed, my sister and I were forced to go, too (even when we were teenagers and the parties tended to only include adults and very little kids). She would make us try on several outfits and keep changing until she thought it was the one that would make the right impression. When we got home, she would punish us if she didn't think we were mingling enough.
Everyone did and still thinks she's wonderful. They even think my parents never fight. It always made me feel like I lived in two separate realities, which feels really isolating. It also made it hard to be believed if I ever told anyone.
If we ever bring up any of this now, she will either say that she was just reacting to what horrible people we are or deny that they happened. Either way, she will tell us that we think these things because we're not sane. Then, she will use things like I mentioned above as proof that I'm not. (It wasn't until my friends started having kids that I realized that those are not the worst things kids do.)
This gets reinforced too by the others who have a hard time believing such things about what seems like such a nice lady. There are also not a few people who are biased towards parents, believing that they are all selfless saints and the kids who think they're not are ungrateful brats.
It gets worse, too. My mom has an older brother who stayed with us for awhile when my sister was 4 and I was 7. Since she wasn't in school yet, he was often left alone with her. It wasn't until we were adults that she told me he molested her. My mom didn't react much when she told her. (It came up in context of telling her that she needed to keep her other brother's young daughter away from him.) Then, there was a time when my sister wasn't speaking to her. One day, she told me gleefully that he was visiting the area that my sister lived. So, there was a chance she could run into him and my mom thought that just because she wasn't speaking to her, it was what she deserved.
I'm guessing she thinks the way she does, because she wants it to be true. Either something is wrong with us or something is wrong with her, and she'd rather it be us. This goes against everything we're told a mom is supposed to be, that they are supposed to naturally want to put their kids first. When there was a choice, she always picked herself first.
It's most important to her that I never tell anyone any of this. This includes significant others. I mentioned before that she has a need to live vicariously. This means she needs to identify with it enough to feel like she owns the experience, and needs to control it, and to cause drama here and there when she gets in the mood for it. This is the only way she is okay with me having anything happier than she has. Of course, you never really can own someone else's experience. So, that's when she wants to destroy it. Even worse is if she catches any hint that I ever told him bad things about her. Then, she needs to make an effort to manipulate and convince him that I'm only sayings these things because I'm nuts. Of course, you can't fully connect with someone if you keep such big secrets about your childhood, but she would still prefer that over the idea that there could be anyone in the world thinking something bad about her.
A lot of times, when I tell people about my childhood, I'm good at making it sound happy. I don't do this by lying, just by being selective in what I tell. There were a lot of good moments, too. Like I mentioned above, she could also be very nice and fun at times. She does have some good traits. Despite growing up in another country, she's always been more progressive than the average American. It's just that the bad things were very bad.
There's more than one reason why I would make it sound good. I've had some friends who I was very open about the bad things with, because they had disturbed enough families to understand. But, I found that I would end up in a dysfunctional pigeonhole with them where everything was negative all the time. That doesn't feel like the whole truth either, but when I feel like I can't share any of this, it goes back to feeling like an isolating burden.
But, since my purpose in keeping this blog is to just pour everything out uncensored, I'm going to try to present as much of a full, honest picture as I can.
Once when I was 3, she beat me up for giving her a hug. From the things she was shouting while she did that, I gather that she didn't want me touching her because she was too hot, but it's not like I knew that. Once when I was 9, my sister and I were both home sick and she kicked me out of the house for not being able to swallow the adult Tylenol.
Other times, she could be perfectly sweet and fun. We never knew which mood it would be or when she would suddenly rip the heads off our dolls for no reason. She had rage fits against our dad, too, but since he was an adult, there was less she could do and he could walk away.
Yet, outside of our immediate family, she was always controlled. Everyone else thought she was a kind, gentle woman who always went out of her way to help and accommodate others. She wouldn't even defend herself when a friend did something bitchy.
She has a lot of superficial friends and no close ones. When she would get on the phone, I could always tell if she was talking to someone from our immediate family (or her younger brother) by her relaxed tone of voice, instead of the forced cheerful, friendly tone. She had to go to every party she was ever invited to and if there was any chance kids were allowed, my sister and I were forced to go, too (even when we were teenagers and the parties tended to only include adults and very little kids). She would make us try on several outfits and keep changing until she thought it was the one that would make the right impression. When we got home, she would punish us if she didn't think we were mingling enough.
Everyone did and still thinks she's wonderful. They even think my parents never fight. It always made me feel like I lived in two separate realities, which feels really isolating. It also made it hard to be believed if I ever told anyone.
If we ever bring up any of this now, she will either say that she was just reacting to what horrible people we are or deny that they happened. Either way, she will tell us that we think these things because we're not sane. Then, she will use things like I mentioned above as proof that I'm not. (It wasn't until my friends started having kids that I realized that those are not the worst things kids do.)
This gets reinforced too by the others who have a hard time believing such things about what seems like such a nice lady. There are also not a few people who are biased towards parents, believing that they are all selfless saints and the kids who think they're not are ungrateful brats.
It gets worse, too. My mom has an older brother who stayed with us for awhile when my sister was 4 and I was 7. Since she wasn't in school yet, he was often left alone with her. It wasn't until we were adults that she told me he molested her. My mom didn't react much when she told her. (It came up in context of telling her that she needed to keep her other brother's young daughter away from him.) Then, there was a time when my sister wasn't speaking to her. One day, she told me gleefully that he was visiting the area that my sister lived. So, there was a chance she could run into him and my mom thought that just because she wasn't speaking to her, it was what she deserved.
I'm guessing she thinks the way she does, because she wants it to be true. Either something is wrong with us or something is wrong with her, and she'd rather it be us. This goes against everything we're told a mom is supposed to be, that they are supposed to naturally want to put their kids first. When there was a choice, she always picked herself first.
It's most important to her that I never tell anyone any of this. This includes significant others. I mentioned before that she has a need to live vicariously. This means she needs to identify with it enough to feel like she owns the experience, and needs to control it, and to cause drama here and there when she gets in the mood for it. This is the only way she is okay with me having anything happier than she has. Of course, you never really can own someone else's experience. So, that's when she wants to destroy it. Even worse is if she catches any hint that I ever told him bad things about her. Then, she needs to make an effort to manipulate and convince him that I'm only sayings these things because I'm nuts. Of course, you can't fully connect with someone if you keep such big secrets about your childhood, but she would still prefer that over the idea that there could be anyone in the world thinking something bad about her.
A lot of times, when I tell people about my childhood, I'm good at making it sound happy. I don't do this by lying, just by being selective in what I tell. There were a lot of good moments, too. Like I mentioned above, she could also be very nice and fun at times. She does have some good traits. Despite growing up in another country, she's always been more progressive than the average American. It's just that the bad things were very bad.
There's more than one reason why I would make it sound good. I've had some friends who I was very open about the bad things with, because they had disturbed enough families to understand. But, I found that I would end up in a dysfunctional pigeonhole with them where everything was negative all the time. That doesn't feel like the whole truth either, but when I feel like I can't share any of this, it goes back to feeling like an isolating burden.
But, since my purpose in keeping this blog is to just pour everything out uncensored, I'm going to try to present as much of a full, honest picture as I can.