My mother was a violent/abusive parent.
I cannot write so interesting as you do coco but I am sure the feelings are the same.
We were middle -class Americans, clean, mannerly, well-behaved children.
But we had a secret, our mom beat the shit out of us.
I remember my sister getting stiches to her chin because my Mom beat her, but the story was
she fell off the top of a bunkbed.
My Mom sat on top of me with a gun to my face, I lied to her for stealing money to buy ice-cream at the A&W.
I remember getting a beating and it turned the white part of my eye blood red. A teacher at school noticed it and
questioned it, I told her I ran into a tree limb.
As I got older, whatever was closest to my Moms hand became the weapon, electrical cords, wrought iron wall ornaments,
I awakened one night with prickly beats all over me, I left the toilet brush in the sink to dry after cleaning the bathroom before bedtime and my Mom freaked out and let
me know that is not where a toilet brush is left.
I started running away from home when I was 15, a therapist said it was my sanest choice.
After years of marriage to my Mother, my stepdad committed suicide, he wanted a divorce, I can't be for sure that the choice of
suicide was his only way out of the marriage, but I often wonder.
I think vicitims of abuse survive by going to places deep within themselves and find safety
protecting that small vulnerable child as best they can.
purps
