My earliest memories from childhood are characterised by a profound fear of my mother. She would beat me often, force me to squat a hundred times under threat of a lighter alongside verbal abuse.
This did not change as I got older except for the fact that the physical abuse calmed down since I told her I was numb to it. The verbal abuse, however continued.
The abuse I could handle, what I couldn’t, however, was the guilt-tripping.
She would always tell me how my dad was terrible to her, abusive, uncaring and unloving. She would always tell me to pick a side during dinner, to tell her who I loved more (my mother or father).
If I cried, she would cry as well and pretend as if I were the one who hurt her. She’d hide herself in the hear and I would desperately try to stop her. If I complained about something that had happened to me, she’d say that I was blaming her and being ungrateful.
I blame my father a bit for not standing up to her. He also recognises her neurotic behaviour but tells me to just go along with it. He has that privilege because he spends most of his day working, outside the house. I however, am stuck with her.
This would have all been tolerable if I had some escape from home be that in the form of a tight group of friends or a girlfriend. Yet, I have not been blessed with the beauty to enchant a member of the opposite gender nor the charm to keep close-knit companions.
I hoped that when I go to university, I’ll be freed temporarily from her. I was always enamoured by Oxford University. It was such a lovely place. Traditional, hallowed and a right fit for an academic soul like mine.
But because of a stressful home, a profound unhappiness with my face and a general numbness to any passionate feeling to inspire me to great feats, I failed the admissions test in October.
I hope, however, to take a gap year and reapply. If I cannot be bewitched by the mutual affection of a woman, maybe Oxford will be a good substitute.
I do not know, however, if I can survive another year in this house.
Anyone else have a similar experience with their mother?
This did not change as I got older except for the fact that the physical abuse calmed down since I told her I was numb to it. The verbal abuse, however continued.
The abuse I could handle, what I couldn’t, however, was the guilt-tripping.
She would always tell me how my dad was terrible to her, abusive, uncaring and unloving. She would always tell me to pick a side during dinner, to tell her who I loved more (my mother or father).
If I cried, she would cry as well and pretend as if I were the one who hurt her. She’d hide herself in the hear and I would desperately try to stop her. If I complained about something that had happened to me, she’d say that I was blaming her and being ungrateful.
I blame my father a bit for not standing up to her. He also recognises her neurotic behaviour but tells me to just go along with it. He has that privilege because he spends most of his day working, outside the house. I however, am stuck with her.
This would have all been tolerable if I had some escape from home be that in the form of a tight group of friends or a girlfriend. Yet, I have not been blessed with the beauty to enchant a member of the opposite gender nor the charm to keep close-knit companions.
I hoped that when I go to university, I’ll be freed temporarily from her. I was always enamoured by Oxford University. It was such a lovely place. Traditional, hallowed and a right fit for an academic soul like mine.
But because of a stressful home, a profound unhappiness with my face and a general numbness to any passionate feeling to inspire me to great feats, I failed the admissions test in October.
I hope, however, to take a gap year and reapply. If I cannot be bewitched by the mutual affection of a woman, maybe Oxford will be a good substitute.
I do not know, however, if I can survive another year in this house.
Anyone else have a similar experience with their mother?
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