Childhood bullshit

I got into it with my ma last night. I let her fucking have it too. You know- she didn’t do anything that wrong. Well- arguably. See my ma gets this snobby disgusting tone of voice. It’s a horrible horrible voice that has plagued me since I was a small child. I’m trying to look back and figure out when my ma started showing disgust for me whenever I didn’t act the way she felt I should act. I think it was when I was about 8. And my brother didn’t get the voice- just me. And the worst part- like it is with every abusive person in my life- she has ALWAYS blamed me for it. You know – I really don’t know – wait- yes I do- I know why it took me so long to realize what a stupid fucking bitch my ma has been and how bad it’s effected my life. B/c compared to my father who wears his abuse on his sleeve and its apparent within 5 min of speaking to him- my ma has always been insidious. She tricks you repeatedly. She’ll be SOOOO sweet and loving. Then- with just as big a smile on her face as she has when she’s being so loving- she’ll say something really fucking mean that undermines you. and if you have the fucking balls to say something to her she immediately turns into a scared little girl and professes how this is just her reaction and she has a right to it and how you’re bullying her. It’s nothing I can explain in words. She just doesn’t let anyone have any form of emotion toward her- EVER- that is anything other than pleasant and happy. She’ll turn from loving to disgust at the drop of a hat and then tell you you’re the asshole for getting her to that point. I have fucking rage coursing through my veins right now. How the fuck can she do that?
Last night I lost it. She got that fucking voice with me and I mocked her and told her not to talk to me like I was a fucking idiot. Then about 30 minutes went by and I felt bad. I didn’t have to scream at her like that- I could have kept my temper a little better. So I said I apologize – she said she didn’t even know she was getting that way. I told her she usually doesn’t know. Then I went into how I can’t bite my tongue anymore. She said “you’re acting like I’m chrissy or something.” That’s my ex-friend with the same snobby fucking voice as my ma. They are damn near the same people on the outside and yet my ma has always hated chrissy and Chrissy has always talked shit about my ma. I told her that’s how she sounds- just like chrissy- and when I was a child that’s how she always used to sound- like she was fucking disgusted in me. Whenever I said something she didn’t like it was like she stopped loving me. I’m really fucking hurt and pissed. So I go thru the whole shpeel of how it takes me back to my childhood and I can’t be quiet about it anymore b/c if it eats away at my soul little by little. I’m flipping on everyone who fucks w me from now on. Taking it and being quiet turns you into a shell of yourself. I won’t be that anymore. Fuck her if it hurts her. No one ever gave a fuck about what hurt me. I knew that shit when I was fucking 12. I knew I was on my fucking own. My only problem was how much it made my parents feel like pieces of shit b/c they weren’t parents to me- they were basket cases that needed MY help to be okay. I was fucking 12. And throughout my teenage years. I had this awesome level of honesty that really protected me. And it absolutely disgusted everyone in this fucking family. You know what- fuck them. And I really mean that. Fuck all of that. I’m gonna take care of me from now on. I don’t care how much it hurts others that they hurt me. Their all fucking damaged people. I’ve given them all 20 years of my heart and soul and took their pain as my own and I’m done. Who took care of me? No one. They wrote the check when they had it to write and for that I’ll always be grateful- but that’s all they did. They never fucking raised me. They just screamed at me when I fucked something up.
 
And my ma- the reason why I hated cleaning so much is b/c she would tell me how to clean and it wasn’t how I wanted to do it and so she’d sit there with this fucking big ass fake smile on her face and say “CAYG” (clean as you go) sounding like she was singing. I made it very apparent that I didn’t like her little acronyms. I never once acted like I liked them. Yet she repeated them for years to come. Her little flippant remarks “Dare to be a Daniel!” Once again – when you read that- imagine someone with a big smile on their face. It was dismissive. I remember a handful of times she dressed me up- not in anything I liked of course. But in a dress that her family would just love. She called it a pinaford. And it was horrible. I hated that dress and when she made me wear it I cried and begged her not to let me take it off. She didn’t care at all. I fucking cried- hysterically. I threatened to not go to school that day. She didn’t care. Not at all. B/c I was just an extension of her. She didn’t care to know ME or who I was. She just wanted a fucking Barbie doll that made her feel good about herself b/c her mom was a fucking wretch of a person to her and never showed her any love.
Then when I was in 6th grade she chased me around the house with a scissors to cut my bangs. To this day I can’t look at someone with really short bangs without being taken back there. The underlying theme is that she just didn’t give a shit how she made me feel. At all, ever. All of these stories meant the same thing- I love you as long as you’re what I want you to be. If not I’m going to cut you down until you are and then turn around with that same smile on face or that look that says “I’m not listening to a word you’re saying.” When I was a little girl I couldn’t fight back.
When I was a kid I used and I misbehaved or fought with my brother she would send us to bed early. My brother would always apologize to her and so she would forgive him. My brother was to her what people should be- someone that smiles no matter what. He was cute and blond with blue eyes and a big koolaid smile. The perfect kid. Then there was me. Dark personality- my father’s demon spawn. Anyway – so every night she’d tuck us in but on those nights when we fought she wouldn’t. Until we apologized- which I never did b/c I didn’t think I was wrong. But my brother always did. And she would go into his room and tuck him in. I remember sitting in my room listening to her talk to my brother and I would hope that she’d come in afterwards to tuck me in. I needed her to let me know that even when I acted bad that she still loved me. B/c I was a fucking child. But she never did. She loved me to death when I did exactly what she wanted me to do. But I stopped being her child when I upset her. I can still see it now. I can see the whole scene in my mind. Her w her ugly preppy sweater walking down the stairs from my brother’s room and not saying shit to me. And then I’d cry but I made sure I’d do it softly so she wouldn’t hear it. B/c she made it very apparent that she didn’t love me when she didn’t come up to tuck me in. That was my take on it. I was about 9 when I started to realize that if she didn’t care enough about me to come up to tuck me in then she damn sure wouldn’t care if I was crying. She’d probably just roll her eyes and speak with that flippant voice and make it even worse. So I opted to just go to sleep.
I think I’ve written enough for now.