The first time I recognized that I was normal was when I was 8 years old with a strap around my neck trying to hang myself from a doorknob. I watched my face turn red, then almost blue in my closet mirror as I dangled hoping that I would pass out before I changed my mind. I finally stood up after imagining my funeral because if I were to die then my mother would get an extreme amount of pity and attention banking off of my demise. She would win and profit emotionally off of my death because even at 8, I understood my mother was never meant to be a mother because she has never been able to focus on anyone but herself. She wasn't necessarily a bad mother, but she definitely wasn't a good one.
At this time I remember saying, "Only 10 more years until I'm 18 and I can get away from her." My friends parents adored me and loved having me over so I was not allowed to go often especially since my mom claimed that I was a spoiled brat when I returned.
As a child and teen when someone would compliment me and say how beautiful her daughter was, she would say, "I made that." I am not a person to her, but an object to be owned.
At 14 I began to struggle harder as puberty hit and emotions ran high so one day I discovered cutting. I took a pair of multifunctional scissors with a hooked end and I dragged it across the side of my wrist as I screamed and cried to myself again in the same closet mirror. Over and over again I scraped myself until I bled and felt relief every time it snagged and got caught on the skin. My mother saw it and I explained that one of my cats scratched me. She believed it. She "believed" it because it would be an inconvenience to her if I had a mental illness.
I cut my hair short in High School because I had become a bit of a tomboy in taekwondo and JROTC. I also wore a boys shirt from Old Navy because it was on sale, I carried a wallet instead of a purse since I kept losing my purses. She asked me if I was trying to be a dyke. Another time randomly she blurted out to my brother and me that she guessed she would still love us if we turned out to be gay.
She once said that I am her daughter and she would believe me over her husband if I ever said he did something to me. Mind you he'd been exhibiting strange behavior when I was very young, asking me if I'd massage him. His legs, his glutes...It never went beyond that though that to me is already very wrong. When I told her he had messaged me on AIM, since I lived in Dallas temporarily and they lived in Austin, and asked for naked pictures of myself in exchange for a 3000GT - she told me I was a liar and that I was not welcome home for the holidays or ever again. We ended up just not ever talking about it again.
18 years old, I got brave and with a Lady Bic shaver I cut the inside of my wrist and though it was not very damaging, the goal was to feel pain, not to die. When my mother saw it she said, "Am I a bad mother?" rather than asking how I was feeling and what we could do to get better.
When I lived with my mother in my 20s, I felt like I had no control so I continued with the cutting. I cut my stomach once (easier to conceal) while hiding in a closet and a white substance I assume was my fat layer started oozing out. Then I developed anorexia and an infatuation with working out. I dropped to 95 pounds. That's a 16.3% BMI and normal is 18.5. I was proud of it, especially when I started working as a waitress and a coworker said, "In my next life I want to have her body." I'd eat a small can of mushrooms as a meal every day because it was only 50 calories. I'd hide in my room and do 10 sets of 100 situps. I'd lift weights and do aerobic exercises at 2:00 in the morning alone in my room just to burn a couple more calories. I asked once how I looked (asking about my new plaid pants) and she immediately responded with "Disgusting, you look like a 12 year old boy." My step father addressed my body with, "I think you would look good with about 30 more pounds on you." I thought that was a sweet way of telling me I needed to gain weight.
When I began modeling at my step father's request and we received a copy of the calendar I was featured in, she told me she only saw the cover which featured small images of our legs and said she already didn't like it but would wait until I got home to open it. She was very displeased and told me, "You're pretty, but you're not that pretty. Stop modeling."
At one point she decided it was a good idea to tell me she cried on the bathroom floor when she found out she was pregnant with my brother and wanted to abort him because she didn't want another one of me. And that we never bonded because I was always to independent and didn't need her like my brother did.
I went to her place so I could catch a flight the next morning to my cousin's wedding with my brother. She told me I needed to come stay for three days, so I did. I couldn't sleep because she caused me so much anxiety. I took so much Benadryl to try and sleep but nothing worked. So I got into her liquor cabinet and drank until I couldn't remember anything but was still functioning. We got into a fight I assume because I pointed out my anger that she slept with someone 2 weeks after my step dad died, telling her she was selfish and basically....a whore. She kicked me out knowing I was 70 miles from home and had to drive, so I drove down the road and waited over an hour for my boyfriend to come get me. She had called the cops and told them where to look for me so when they found me, even though I didn't have the car all the way on, I had the keys in the ignition for the AC being 100 degrees out. Also not having pants on didn't help my case. She said it was for my own good, to teach me a lesson. She told my boyfriend she would go with me to bail me out of jail and when the time came, she said never mind, I'm busy. Then she claimed she was keeping the laptop my brother gave me as compensation for the missed flight and he had to rip it out of her hands. When I opened it, she'd left a window open so I could see that she did a background check on me to make sure that I'd gotten charged with a DWI. We didn't talk for a long time, but I tried to reconnect with her only through text as voice communication was not successful. My brother took me to lunch and I mentioned that I went to Houston to visit her sister for Thanksgiving. She began texting me text after text after text with the general message of "Enjoy your new mommy." We have not spoken since and I refuse to speak to her spy (my brother) ever again. It's been almost 5 years since the DWI and 4 since we stopped speaking. She still tries to communicate on occasion through Facebook. I've replied, but don't say much for fear that she will try to reopen the lines of communication.
Though I do believe I have love for her, I do not have to like her and I will not accept toxic people in my life anymore.
I have to remind myself daily that I am not my mother. I am nothing like my mother. She is in a constant state of mind that I would expect of a 14 year old girl and will not change, For the longest time I did not want children because I didn't want to do to my children what she did to me and I believe that is the reason why I'd actually make a great parent.
I'm glad I removed her from my life and I get extreme anger when someone tells me, "It's your mom, you need to talk to her. She loves you." That is not love. Love is acceptance and giving. It is kindness and understanding. It is not selfish nor does it aim to cause harm in another's life.
Some people just are not meant to be mothers.
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