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I think I have been emotionally abused by my mother which seems uncredible to say. She is the kind of person who will always take the burned piece of meat, the broken piece of pie, or sacrifice herself if there is not enough of something and say she doesn't want it anyway. I was always fed, I had clean clothes. I wasn't physically abuse except when I was being a "difficult child" (that mostly involves slaps and spanking), which according to her I've been since my very first days. I have to say that at some point I had became so "difficult" that she didn't even took a second to think before acting when I did someting that upset her. That's what happened when at age of 9 or 10, after watching a movie in family, I just stood up and my brother hit me so hard the red mark of his hand didn't leave my skin for hours. I swore in front of my mother for the first time and she immediately slapped me. I remember a conversation after that, her looking at the damage on my skin. But I don't remember my brother getting actually punished for what he did. And I was always taken to the doctor when I was sick, except that time around 13 where she forced me to go to school before they called her. I was then taken to the doctor who said I had the flu. But my mother had good reasons not to trust me: she "knew" me and it was the day parents and teachers were supposed to meet. As well I was always encouraged to pursue the kind of carreer that would suit me. Except there were things like "you want to be a pet doctor? But you'd have to do long studies about science and you hate science". But then.. It is right, I wasn't so fond of it. She has leitmotives such as "you've been running things in this house since you were a small child" "you've always been a difficult child" (about those ones, I remember cries and shouting. I don't know how often it happened, but she says I was a crying baby, crying as much as the others slept.) She used to call the child and teenager me "tyrannical" when we argued. She told me "You are (just) like your father". My father beat her up before leaving her with me, but she said it anyway. After she witnessed him seize my throat and hold me agaisnt the fridge before slapping me, twice in the same day, she still used that line in arguments. I once threw a small table a few inches away from her for keeping on saying that, eventhough we talked about how hurtful it was for me. And that is the thing: everytime I bring up the hurtful things she did, she swears it never happened, she would never do that. But sometimes, she happens to admit it MIGHT possibly have happened but "you know how difficult you've been". At 13, after a year of switching between near-anorexia and overeating my wieght was 127 lbs for a height of 4,92. For several weeks, maybe months, my mother and brother called me fat (or fat-like terms) at such an unbearable extent I threatened them to stop eating if they kept calling me that. They did call me fat again and I did refuse the next meal. I got a lecture from my mother for not eating, but no ackowledgement that calling me fat was very painful. When I brought it up years later, she swore it never happened. And according to her, my weight has never been has high as I say. I remember coming back from the therapy she forced me to when I was 12, after my therapist said both of us might have to work together in order to fix our relationship. Once in the car I tried to support that point of view, no anger nor hard words, just "You know, maybe she's right. Maybe we do need to work together". Back home, it became hell. She was out of herself, shouting at me, blaming me for saying awful things to her. When I asked what I had done wrong, she answered "you said I was crazy" "No, I did not" "YOU DID! You said I had to see a shrink". That happened twice. My brother attendend one of them and replied to my complaint "do you get what this does means you think of me?!" that "it's not the same thing for adults". Of course, according to my mother, that never occured.
I remember at the worst times, those i felt the less close to her and didn't wanted to share anything with her we had arguments about me not being interested into her stuff, not asking her any questions. About me not kissing her hello nor goodbye. We argued so much she kind of forced me to that. I'm quite sure it was more than implied that as long as I needed her, I had to pretend to feel affection for her even when I did not. She blackmailed me several times, often in order to get an apology for something. It got more noticeable when she started to pay a flat and sent money for my studies. She sometimes cuts me off, or refuses to let me come back home as long as I don't behave as she wants. Even as an adult, she controls at what time I get up when I'm home, and has something to say about my eating habit of the time (not enough, too much, eating to much between the meals..). When she found out about me being on weed, she had entered my room in my absence and texted me "cigarettes, booze bottles, empty junk bags. Congratulations for the use of other's money and self destruction. [...] I don't open any text that doesn't start with an apology".
More recently, she drove me to a psychiatrist (I don't have a driving licence) and witnessed that doctor striking me down. But she had put so much hope in that appointment her world was collapsing. She wanted to talk about my future at home, but I said it wasnt the right time. So she did it in the car, while I was still crying for that therapist calling me "complaisant towards myself" and saying I didn't wanted to get helped. She told me about how hard my illness was for her, how hard it has always been. How expensive it was for her to pay for my flat and that she would pay my rent until she died.
And things are still messed up in my head but I'm starting to think. What if she was never true about me always being a difficult and unhappy child? What if I had every potential to be an independent grown-up woman who faced emotional abuse their entire life instead?
That would explain why, even after I aknowledged my psychological disorders, when I tell her that things like yelling at me all she wants is for me to get better is really hurtful, she just shuts down and never aknowledges it, never apologises. (I got silence treatment a lot.)
I know she looks like the most permissive mother ever, paying me a flat for no studies, waiting until I heal and get independent after so many hard years spent raising me. But is there some kind of abuse in all of that?
