Why I Hate Mommy

I have been hiding, old habit. But there is more to it than me avoiding, I got sick of people who are friends with my family—who know my mother, telling me I need to forgive and forget. Or that my mother had her reasons for doing what she did in the past, even going as far as to blame her own past trauma for her behavior toward me. It's all bullshit.

Yes, forgiveness does bring you peace from the trauma/past, but you're not forgiving the person who did you wrong. You're forgiving yourself. Abuse victims play the blame game, we're very good at it, and the #1 person we blame is ourselves. Forgiveness of the past is for the victim, not the abuser, and forgetting is a band-aid. Let me tell you, when that bastard comes off in hurts. It's why people end up having breakdowns, or hang ups. It's why a victim's world crumbles while they smile and bare it. As for Dani, my mother, having her reasons? I would really really like to know what they are, because I can't come up with any good reasons—not even a bad ones—for allowing my daughter's sexual abuser back into the house. I truly can't. Whatever the reason, it doesn't justify her actions, and poor parenting doesn't even touch it. Nor does her childhood traumas. I've lived through a lot. When I reached 15 I became exhausted by life, I wanted it to be over. Too many things had happened, but do you see me being an asshole? Am I out there inflecting the same thing onto other people?

NO! And there is a lot of victims out there that never become an abuser. Most victims shy away and hide from everything, we don't take it out on other people. We already feel like enough of a burden, why spread the hurt?

These reasons are weak, at best, and I got tired of explaining myself. I shouldn't have to defend myself when I say my childhood was shit—it was the stuff of nightmares—but here we are. Instead of telling people in private messages and so on, I figure, why not make a post? It gets most of it out in the air, and if I still need to defend my choices, my feelings, and the fact I'm a victim. Well then just fluff-off. Because you are part of the problem, not just for me but people like me. People who have fought and survived too many battles, we don't need another one.

Why I hate mommy (I felt a list would be easier and more to the point).:

~ My earliest memories are of crappy by the night motel rooms, sleeping on the floor at the foot of the bed, while Dani gave her boyfriends blowjobs. I wasn't even in kindergarten. Wrecked parking-lots with low-lives on every corner, filled with broken bottles and sometimes syringes, was how I remember my life up till 1^st grade.

~ I have attended over 13 schools in my life, between kindergarten and 12^th grade. In the beginning it wasn't unusual for me to start the year at one school and finish at another. I never had friends longer than two years. My education suffered, my reading skills the most. Dani simply labeled me as learning disabled, and often said I was slow and in subtle ways (at least at first) that I was stupid.

~ Dani, her friends, and boyfriends loved to party. I was at many of these parties that always resembled a college party. Complete with cases of beer, a house full of smoke (cigarettes), and a lot of sexual immature pranks. (How I'm not completely messed up is beyond me.)

~ Dani took me away from my Nana and the rest of the family. I lived so close to my cousins when I lived with my Nana. I had family—community—and I didn't want to leave, but she pulled me away kicking and screaming. All of which for childish reasons (my family didn't like her boyfriend).

~ She brought an abusive sexual predator into my life, and I lived in fear for the rest of my life. My stepfather sexually, verbally, and physically abused me. I feared him—I still fear him. I isolated myself in my room, and when she kicked him out for cheating on her I thought life would get better. It didn't. He still controlled her, and by extension, me.

~ Dani used me as her emotional support. I was a child, and she used me to get through all her rough patches. A child. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but it felt good to be needed. Only problem was the second my brother and sister returned from visiting their father (my stepfather) she didn't need or want me anymore. I was pushed aside and left alone.

~ She abused me, verbally, emotionally, and neglected all my needs. The physical stuff was bad, being grabbed by my arms, jerked around, slapped across the face. . . poked. But the emotional stuff hits far deeper. She often asked me “Why are you so damn stupid.” I actually started to believe I was stupid.

~ She crushed every dream I ever had. From becoming a writer to wanting to work for NASA, she shot them all down. Telling me I was too lazy, too stupid, that my grades sucked, that I sucked. I had too much of a disability. I wasn't smart or pretty. By the time college came I wanted to be a cop so I could get shot and never have to live long enough to acknowledge how much of a failure I was.

~ Her boyfriend sexually assaulted me (someone besides my stepfather). We reported it, he was arrested, and we went to court. She talked me out of testifying—rather she guilted me out of it. He walked, and a few months later he was back spending the night two doors down from my bedroom.

~ She took every penny ever stored away for my college, or given to me on birthdays, graduation, ect and spent it on bills she let pile up while she spent money on herself or my brother and sister.

~ She brainwashed me into thinking she was the sun, the moon, and the stars when in reality she was an ugly hag training a slave. She allowed my brother and sister to abuse me as well, and often labeled me the outcast in the family.

~ I was guilted into not taking part in school programs or sports. While I played softball, it was the only thing I was allowed to do. For those few months of softball season every year all I heard was bitching, yelling, and abusive digs thrown my way. But I needed to play softball, it was all I really had.

~ She shamed me for being creative. She hated that I loved to draw, thought it was a waste of time. Dani wanted me to go to a real college, told me I would never make money in the art world. When I never succeeded in traditional school she criticized me, called me stupid. After I finally worked up the courage to apply to art school and got accepted, Dani dumped all the college paperwork, taxes, finical aid on me. Up till that point she had handled all of that, since I was no longer doing what she wanted she left me high and dry. I had to do a crash course without any help.

~ She constantly competed with me. I never understood why, but if someone at the church or school found out I did artwork and asked me to create something for them. She would also create something, and present only her work, saying that I was too lazy to get to it. That hers' was better. Same with cooking, sewing, anything. . . everything.

If these reasons are not enough to understand why I hold a deep anger for Dani, my mother, then what is? What level of depravity must she reach before people start seeing her for the awful, sick person she is? I don't care if there are people out there whom choose not to believe what I'm saying about her, and I don't care if you still want to remain friends with her. That's your choice, but victim shaming me—calling into question my emotions—or devaluing the things I've lived through because of that piece of shit, is not going to fly.

And before people start talking about, “Don't be angry. . . free yourself by releasing it and forgive.” I have to feel it first. No one can process emotions, heal, and come out the other side without first feeling all the things they avoided before. I have no doubt one day when I think of Dani I won't be pissed off. I will not longer feel the deep pain of rejection from the woman that gave birth to me. I won't want to put my fist through a wall when I remember how she threw things at me, bruised my body, and handed me over to her boyfriends. That's my goal, to glance back into my past and not feel devastated by every single memory. Until then I need to feel the anger, rage is healthy and needed. It gives me strength to move on when all I want to do is stand still in emotional anguish.

To those who think Dani's an angel, a woman who helps everyone and puts her self before anothers. Believe what you want, but here's the truth. This is why I hate her, and why—no matter the amount of time that passes or the healing I do—will I ever. . . EVER, allow her back into my life.

#TraumaWarrior #Abuse #Victim #WhyIHateMommy #BadParent #BadMother #StopShamming

~Jax~