The Truth Hurts

Ah, I can’t even express the choking fear, the convulsing fear of being in the presence of the abuser. How many times, how many hundreds of countless times have I tried to please her, laid down my life like a doormat in front of her hoping for her approval, breathed a sigh of relief at her smile, only to find the next moment a sneer, a curled lip a twisted mouth and a cruel remark spat with venom into my face and i crawl away, stung and shaking, and i swear I’ll never open myself again, no, not to her and not to anyone…and yet I do. I forget, and yes, I want my mommy, the one I never had, the one I will never have. I have to face the truth, the awful awful truth, that in this life there is a woman called “my mother,” and yet she is not my mother, because a mother is someone who nurtures you and cares for you, even sacrifices for you, who puts your needs above her own, who would give her life for you. I know that if she were to read this she would say how could you, HOW DARE YOU HOW DARE YOU HOW DARE YOU isn’t that right?

Because you rule by fear.

“If mama ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy” is your motto.

And the saddest part of that is that you don’t even GET IT that that is a sarcastic saying that refers to someone who is so fucking narcissistic that they rule the family with terror instead of leading with love.

I know that none of your admirers in the community, the ones who beatify you for your saintly good works, would ever believe that you have squashed your own child like a bug over and over and over. If they were to read this they would not believe me, because you do so much good, everyone adores you. It must be because I am sick, not well, perhaps crazy. I would not be believed, would be shunned, and of course you would turn your wrath upon me and then you too would shun me, as you have so many times before.

Yes, believe me. The truth hurts.

Copyright 2012 Soul Survivor all rights reserved.

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  1. I understand. I had a mother who birthed me, but who abused me — yet who I ended up taking care of her last 2 1/2 years on earth and took care of her dying husband and her for six months before that. It was especially difficult when I brought her up here to take care of her because after I was an adult and on my own, our relationship grew better . . . until she married her 4th husband who as bas****. By the time we buried him and I moved her up here she had reverted to who she was when I was a child. None of my other, older sisters would take care of her — just me, the one she abused the most. She’s been dead for 5 years now and I still find I have bitterness and resentment in my heart. I pray to God for help to remove those things for they are awful things to have in your heart. For me, only time can help as God works on me.

    I’m so incredibly sorry you’re having to go through this!! I’m sending all my love and prayers to you!!

    • Thanks so much for sharing your story, and your support. I read a book called “Toxic Parents” that wasn’t so encouraging–it said that toxic parents will pursue you even from the grave. I believe that that will be so in my case, as I don’t know what it’s like to have any other kind of parents. But as you said, God can heal anything, so I am holding onto that, as I work on getting the secrets out of my heart so maybe, maybe I can let go of them. Take care and be well!


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