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I was so young when it happened (TRIGGER WARNING FOR TECHNICAL DOMESTIC VIOLENCE)
Anonymous55
Posts: 40 Boards Initiate
When I was maybe seven or eight, an incident happened. It scarred me for the rest of my life, and I need to tell someone. I had this issue with blueberries that had been getting worse for a bit. I hated how squishy they were when they were unfrozen, but my mom made me eat them anyway. When I was maybe seven or eight, my dad went to visit my grandmother, so it was just me, my brother, and my mom. We had this thing, where after dinner, our 'pudding' was fruits. And we were out of grapes, which is what we usually had. So my mom gave me and my brother a bowl of blueberries each, and told us to eat.
I couldn't. The texture was disgusting, and wet, and squishy, and it made me shudder and feel so, so sick. My mother wasn't happy. She tried to be patient at first, but it got out of control. She told me to eat or I would get no screen time for a whole week. As someone who'd been hiding severe depressive and suicidal thoughts even at my age, I had needed television as an escape. So I tried. I really did. But i couldn't. It got worse, and I shoved it away and told her that I just wouldn't watch tv and that it was fine. But she got angrier, went into the kitchen, dumped a load of yogurt onto the blueberries, and told me 'There, now eat.'
Again, I couldn't. The yogurt made it worse. She was furious by that point, and mashed the blueberries into the yogurt so that it turned an off-ish, pastel pink sort of colour. My disgust got worse, and I got up to leave the table, screaming at her that I couldn't eat. At least, i think that's what happened, I don't remember much of it after a certain point. Flashes, really.
TRIGGER WARNING FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE
I remember my mother chasing me, and screaming at me with the bowl still in her hand.
I remember my brother on the phone, frantically calling my dad and begging him to come back because our mother had gone insane.
I remember hiding behind the couch, while my mother stormed around, furious and screaming threats. I don't remember what they were.
I remember running up the stairs with her at my heels.
I remember the bowl of yogurt emptying itself onto the white walls and how she roared at me that it was all my fault. Look what I had made her do.
I remember my small, terrified mind thinking of blood, even though the colour looked more like a beige sort of pink. To be honest, it resembled mashed up intestines that had been left in water for a bit too long, yet still held form. Not wet enough to stain the walls, thank god. I don't know how that would've turned out.
I remember locking the bathroom door to keep her away from me.
I remember her threatening something, and gradually getting me to open the door. Or maybe that was my dad. I don't think he made any threats though.
I remember her helping me take off my clothes so I could get into the bathtub to wash, as I stood in a daze, too scared to do anything.
I remember lying in the bathtub, staring up at the ceiling, fading in and out of consciousness and hyperventilating while my brother, mother and father all crowded around, trying to calm me down.
I think my dad might've told my mother to go outside at one point. I don't remember though.
The only thing that was going through my head as I lay there was that I wanted her to stay away from me. She was helping to wash me, she'd helped me take my clothes off and I didn't want her to touch me, because she'd hurt me and I was in danger and I wasn't safe! I didn't feel safe! And they were both letting her near me. I didn't want her near me! I wasn't fair that they did that!
And to think that my brother calls me spoiled. Says I got it good. I DIDN'T GET IT FUCKING GOOD! SHE HURT ME AND HE REMEMBERS THAT AND HE SAYS I'M FUCKING SPOILED. HOW CAN HE SAY THAT? HE WASN'T THE ONE FEARING FOR HIS GODDAMN LIFE WHENM HE WAS SEVEN FUCKING YEARS OLD! I WAS SO SCARED!
To this day I remember those brief flashes. Whenever someone calls my mom nice, or kind, I remember that day. My mom may be a saint to poor people, but she has hurt me and I do not trust her. I've brought it up before, and she acts like she's hurt by me remembering it. Says she hoped it was one of the things I'd be able to let go. How dare she. How dare she say that she acted 'irrationally'. How dare she tell me she hoped I could let it go? How dare she say that we both acted irrationally? I DID THE RIGHT THING! I TOLD HER I COULDN'T EAT! I TOLD HER IT WAS TOO MUCH! I WAS NOT, IN ANY FUCKING WAY, 'IRRATIONAL'. SHE WAS THE ONE WHO COULDN'T HANDLE IT!
I love my mom. But sometimes she's not my mom. Sometimes she's the woman who screamed and shouted at me while I hid behind a sofa, curled into myself, hands over my ears as she stormed around looking for me. That's why I want to leave as soon as I can. She's gotten better. I admit that. She's gotten so much better at controlling her temper. But what she did betrayed the unconditional love I was willing to give. She was supposed to protect me, and she didn't. So I love her, but I want out. As soon as I can, I want my own home where none of the people who are supposed to protect me can hurt me again. Yes, I'm a child. Yes, she looks after me. Yes, I feel safe most of the time. But I can remember hiding behind that sofa.
I couldn't. The texture was disgusting, and wet, and squishy, and it made me shudder and feel so, so sick. My mother wasn't happy. She tried to be patient at first, but it got out of control. She told me to eat or I would get no screen time for a whole week. As someone who'd been hiding severe depressive and suicidal thoughts even at my age, I had needed television as an escape. So I tried. I really did. But i couldn't. It got worse, and I shoved it away and told her that I just wouldn't watch tv and that it was fine. But she got angrier, went into the kitchen, dumped a load of yogurt onto the blueberries, and told me 'There, now eat.'
Again, I couldn't. The yogurt made it worse. She was furious by that point, and mashed the blueberries into the yogurt so that it turned an off-ish, pastel pink sort of colour. My disgust got worse, and I got up to leave the table, screaming at her that I couldn't eat. At least, i think that's what happened, I don't remember much of it after a certain point. Flashes, really.
TRIGGER WARNING FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE
I remember my mother chasing me, and screaming at me with the bowl still in her hand.
I remember my brother on the phone, frantically calling my dad and begging him to come back because our mother had gone insane.
I remember hiding behind the couch, while my mother stormed around, furious and screaming threats. I don't remember what they were.
I remember running up the stairs with her at my heels.
I remember the bowl of yogurt emptying itself onto the white walls and how she roared at me that it was all my fault. Look what I had made her do.
I remember my small, terrified mind thinking of blood, even though the colour looked more like a beige sort of pink. To be honest, it resembled mashed up intestines that had been left in water for a bit too long, yet still held form. Not wet enough to stain the walls, thank god. I don't know how that would've turned out.
I remember locking the bathroom door to keep her away from me.
I remember her threatening something, and gradually getting me to open the door. Or maybe that was my dad. I don't think he made any threats though.
I remember her helping me take off my clothes so I could get into the bathtub to wash, as I stood in a daze, too scared to do anything.
I remember lying in the bathtub, staring up at the ceiling, fading in and out of consciousness and hyperventilating while my brother, mother and father all crowded around, trying to calm me down.
I think my dad might've told my mother to go outside at one point. I don't remember though.
The only thing that was going through my head as I lay there was that I wanted her to stay away from me. She was helping to wash me, she'd helped me take my clothes off and I didn't want her to touch me, because she'd hurt me and I was in danger and I wasn't safe! I didn't feel safe! And they were both letting her near me. I didn't want her near me! I wasn't fair that they did that!
And to think that my brother calls me spoiled. Says I got it good. I DIDN'T GET IT FUCKING GOOD! SHE HURT ME AND HE REMEMBERS THAT AND HE SAYS I'M FUCKING SPOILED. HOW CAN HE SAY THAT? HE WASN'T THE ONE FEARING FOR HIS GODDAMN LIFE WHENM HE WAS SEVEN FUCKING YEARS OLD! I WAS SO SCARED!
To this day I remember those brief flashes. Whenever someone calls my mom nice, or kind, I remember that day. My mom may be a saint to poor people, but she has hurt me and I do not trust her. I've brought it up before, and she acts like she's hurt by me remembering it. Says she hoped it was one of the things I'd be able to let go. How dare she. How dare she say that she acted 'irrationally'. How dare she tell me she hoped I could let it go? How dare she say that we both acted irrationally? I DID THE RIGHT THING! I TOLD HER I COULDN'T EAT! I TOLD HER IT WAS TOO MUCH! I WAS NOT, IN ANY FUCKING WAY, 'IRRATIONAL'. SHE WAS THE ONE WHO COULDN'T HANDLE IT!
I love my mom. But sometimes she's not my mom. Sometimes she's the woman who screamed and shouted at me while I hid behind a sofa, curled into myself, hands over my ears as she stormed around looking for me. That's why I want to leave as soon as I can. She's gotten better. I admit that. She's gotten so much better at controlling her temper. But what she did betrayed the unconditional love I was willing to give. She was supposed to protect me, and she didn't. So I love her, but I want out. As soon as I can, I want my own home where none of the people who are supposed to protect me can hurt me again. Yes, I'm a child. Yes, she looks after me. Yes, I feel safe most of the time. But I can remember hiding behind that sofa.
8
Comments
Your safety and boundaries are really important and deserve to have always been taken into account. You do not deserve to have been treated the way you have been. You have been really brave to share with us what you really have been through and felt like.
How do you cope with the flashes, suicidal thoughts and depressive thoughts currently? As you have highlighted, these things can stay with us a lot longer than the time they occur over. When do you think you might be able to move out - do you have a plan for moving out yet?
I won't be able to move out for a really long time, but thankfully my parents are trying to get me a bank account for my money, which I plan to use in the long run to help me move (they don't know that though). With flashbacks and such however, it's more complicated. Sometimes, I'll just be lying in bed, and they'll start trickling in and taking up space and then it builds up till i'm seeing the same thing over and over again in my head. I'm never out of control when it happens, and I'm fully conscious, but the images don't go away until I get distracted by something on a screen which isn't a very good coping mechanism, I'm sure. The suicidal thoughts only happen when I'm having attacks of any kind, so meltdowns, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, burnout...
Depressive thoughts are easier to manage though, because they don't happen too often, and when they do, it's easier to snap out of it than when I was younger, because those were almost constant. I think the worst part of all of it is that my mom always gets so upset when we talk about it (which has only happened twice), and neither she nor my dad have ever mentioned it...ever. Whenever I bring it up, my mom has this heartbroken look on her face that I hate so, so much. Like she has any right to look at me like it hurts her to talk about it. It makes me sick, and I know she's ashamed because she's admitted it to me. And she's told me she hoped I could 'let it go'. I will never let it go.
^This is so well articulated @Anonymous55 - really. Oftentimes, it is the people closest to us that can hurt us the most. Your feelings here are 100% valid. You can simultaneously feel love for your mum and remember the moments where she did care for you, whilst also acknowledging the times where you felt unsafe and scared. Familial relationships can be complex but just because someone is family doesn't mean they can't hurt us.
It sounds like from what you've shared that your mum has gotten better at controlling her temper and feels some shame and hurt from what happened. But this doesn't take your feelings away and you deserve to have those acknowledged and spoken about.
Are you receiving any support for those times when you do experience flashbacks, depression and suicidal thoughts wrapped up in panic or burnout? It might be worth exploring what support is out there, such as therapy, to talk through some of these things in more depth and work through some of those emotions.
Remember that if you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, there are lots of lovely services you can reach out to for support. You're not alone:
*Local urgent mental health helpline | Open 24/7 | Find details about your local service here.
*Crisis Messenger - Our crisis messenger text service provides free, 24/7 crisis support across the UK. If you’re aged 25 or under, you can text THEMIX to 85258.
*Papyrus - If you are having thoughts of suicide, you can contact HOPELINEUK for confidential support and practical advice. You can call them on 0800 068 4141 or text them on 07786209697.
*Samaritans are reachable by phone and email 24/7. Whatever you're going through, you can call them any time, from any phone on 116 123.
Sending you big hugs
Sinead