If I had the guts, I'd tell you
That you were the reason I was "so hard on you."
You were an awful mother- emotionally abusive, and you caused others to physically abuse me.
My brother, the Golden Child, beat me because he knew you wanted him to. You didn't have to say it. He did your dirty work for you.
My dad, when he would come home from work- you'd tell him of my "defiance", of the cruel things I'd said to you (which were merely my reactions to your own cruelties- would beat me. You'd always have the most satisfied look on your face.
I resented you more than them, because in my heart I knew you were at the root of the beatings.
On my 10th birthday Dad beat me, even started to strangle me. I called the cops, he talked them down. Their parting message was that if their daughter had refused to clean her room, they would have done the same thing. Cops back then. That night you took the Golden Child and MY friend to the circus without me as punishment.
When I was 12 my friends at school asked me why I had bruises on my arms. I explained that we'd had a row over something. I was so confused when they told me that their parents didn't hit them. This was the normal you instilled in me. And again, I blame you more than Dad. You were the orchestrator of my physical abuse. You were the one to always give it the go-ahead.
Why didn't I just do as you said? I'm not sure. My life could have been easier, certainly. I still would have had to deal with your condescension and judgments, but at least I wouldn't have hurt physically. The only explanation I can come up with is that I had no respect for you. Following your rules meant compliance, it meant that I agreed with your treatment of me.
I dreamed of running away, and tried several times. I had the right idea then.
You were an awful mother- emotionally abusive, and you caused others to physically abuse me.
My brother, the Golden Child, beat me because he knew you wanted him to. You didn't have to say it. He did your dirty work for you.
My dad, when he would come home from work- you'd tell him of my "defiance", of the cruel things I'd said to you (which were merely my reactions to your own cruelties- would beat me. You'd always have the most satisfied look on your face.
I resented you more than them, because in my heart I knew you were at the root of the beatings.
On my 10th birthday Dad beat me, even started to strangle me. I called the cops, he talked them down. Their parting message was that if their daughter had refused to clean her room, they would have done the same thing. Cops back then. That night you took the Golden Child and MY friend to the circus without me as punishment.
When I was 12 my friends at school asked me why I had bruises on my arms. I explained that we'd had a row over something. I was so confused when they told me that their parents didn't hit them. This was the normal you instilled in me. And again, I blame you more than Dad. You were the orchestrator of my physical abuse. You were the one to always give it the go-ahead.
Why didn't I just do as you said? I'm not sure. My life could have been easier, certainly. I still would have had to deal with your condescension and judgments, but at least I wouldn't have hurt physically. The only explanation I can come up with is that I had no respect for you. Following your rules meant compliance, it meant that I agreed with your treatment of me.
I dreamed of running away, and tried several times. I had the right idea then.
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