Tumgik
#abusive mom
traumareaction · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
327 notes · View notes
nothing0fnothing · 2 months
Text
One time my mother, in a rage over open windows, came to my closed bedroom door and hit it so hard the coat hook attached to my side of it came down. The door did not open, as the handle needed to be turned to do that. When she engaged the handle the wooden coat hook, with my coats on top of it, caught under the door and jammed it in place.
I had been sitting happily on my bed, quietly playing Nintendogs on my DS when this happened, with no idea I'd done something wrong. When I head the door bang and watched the coat hanger clatter to the ground I lept up in fright and, on instinct, drew away from the door I anticipated would fly open at any second.
The door had no lock installed on it, and never had. We were not a locks on doors household, the only one being the tiny silver slide lock on the downstairs half bath. Nevertheless, she accused me of locking the door, and demanded I unlock it immediately.
I approached the shaking door gingerly, very afraid to be near it when the coat became dislodged. She was screaming and banging so hard and with such tenacity that I'd barely managed to jump out of its path just in time as it swung open fast and hard, missing my face by a hair and slamming hard against the wall.
Now inside my room, she approached, looming over me, screaming barely coherent words, scaring the absolute soul out of me. She had me backed into the corner on the other side of the room, drawn into myself completely, as if I could shrink into my own shadow and disappear.
Suddenly she stopped, turned around and went out the way she'd came.
"Clean up this shit." She snapped, gesturing the the mess of broken wood and coats that was now crumpled in a heap at the wall.
Then she was gone, slamming my door behind her, leaving me scared and shaking, my arms still reflexively up in a defense position my eyes still streaming. I stood there a moment composing myself, eyes glued on the door processing what had just happened.
Luckily I'd stood there in shock before jumping to her command to clean up the broken coat hooks, because if I hadn't the door would have hit me hard as she slammed it against the wall a second time.
I turned white as a sheet as I realised I was stood exactly as I was when she told me to clean the coats up less than twenty second prior.
"What are you doing in here?"
"Nothing" I answered honestly, my first word since this entire interaction began.
She screamed a long screech and stormed away. She left the door open with the coat mess behind it, and cowering like a frightened cat as she went to find something or someone else to inflict her mood onto.
I waited a beat to see if she was coming back, but once I'd tracked her footsteps to the back door, the complete other side to the house that I was on, I breathed for what felt like the first time in a whole minute. The room felt cold and the quiet, the repetitive music drifting out of my DS felt out of place. I carefully moved the door so I could get to what was behind it, ensuring I'd left it ajar so I could easily hear what was going on downstairs and have some warning if she came back.
Crouched uncomfortably, I began collecting and sorting the mess. Broken wood in one pile, coats in another, while I considered what to do with them now I had no hooks to hang them from. Mum might fly off again if I let them take up a lot of space if hung inside my wardrobe, but she also might if I let them take up 4 whole hooks supposed to be shared by the family on the coat hooks in the foyer. I could stack them in twos, only taking up two hooks, but I didn't want to face the wrath if one slipped or fell either. I was considering the possibility of hanging them on coat hangers on the outside of my wardrobe, draping them over the doors until I heard movement again.
I froze completely still while I tracked the movement from the back garden door, through the kitchen and into the dining room, going cold when I realised it was coming in my direction. It stopped at the stairs and my mums voice, shrill and too loud came from up them.
"Why is your door closed?"
I grabbed and pulled it open fast, praying she wouldn't come up and see how I'd let it scatter the wood pieces.
"Did I tell you to open it or did I ask you why it was closed?"
"I'm cleaning the wood up" I squeaked, scrambling to collect them all into the bin.
"Wood? What wood?" She asked. I trembled in horror hearing her begin up the stairs again. "What wood?" She repeated, angrier, I couldn't even string an explanation together, frightened that a retelling of the truth might come across too critical and earn me a beating.
It didn't matter anyway, because she was now in my bedroom doorway for the third time since this began, staring down at me as I got the last of the broken bits into the bin. My heart was thumping so painfully hard in my chest a panicked thought loudly told me that I'd surely have a heart attack and die at any moment.
"You've been up here for half an hour doing that?" She asked. I wasn't sure I was, but I nodded anyway.
She sighed angrily and took the coats from my lap. "Just play your game." She said, leaving the door ajar as she left.
Once my heart went back to normal and my cold skin warmed up, I allowed myself to sit gingerly on my bed again. I continued tracking her movements with my ears the rest of the day. They were less stompy and I even heard her laughing and joking on the phone.
I picked up a book and read for a while, then I let myself get back to my game, playing on mute, but still I let my ears follow her around the house, my stomach turning every time she approached the stairs. She left me alone till bed time, when she came to check I'd brushed my teeth and popped a hot chocolate on my night stand. I hugged her and let her kiss me and had nightmares all night.
24 notes · View notes
flirts-with-dragons · 7 months
Text
Things my abusers do, so you can recognize them if someone tries to pull that shit on you:
- saying you can't control your anger so they can't let you do (x), for the "protection of other people"
- saying they don't remember what they did to you, so it didn't happen right?
- using your disabilities against you ("you must be delusional right now to be accusing me of this")
- giving off the illusion that you can't take care of yourself and that they must always be with you (for me it was "you won't remember all the information" in therapy, so I couldn't tell the therapist about my abuse without her assuring the therapist that I am delusional)
- apologizing after every abusive action that can be recognized easily as abuse, so they can say they apologized and you're just holding grudges
- weaponizing their upsetness at being accused (breaking down and sobbing when you accuse them of things in front of other people)
- "I didn't know it would hurt you so it not my fault"
26 notes · View notes
butchrat · 2 years
Text
"we always hoped we'd get away" on growing up + getting out of bad households
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Conan gray
Nana Grizol
The Smiths
Cecile Richard
Bronski Beat
Does it offend you, yeah?
The Lumineers
263 notes · View notes
toxicparentrants · 1 year
Text
Abused as a child things:
When your mom says you can’t tell anyone about the abuse because no one will “understand how your family works” or “that’s just how it works for us”
80 notes · View notes
thedisablednaturalist · 4 months
Text
All the stress has triggered a flare up so I stayed home to work on a report for my job at home and I slept in because flare ups make it really hard to wake up and my mom comes bursting into my room screaming at me listing all the things that I KNOW I NEED TO DO AND HAVE BEEN WORKING ON and have been stressing me out like "you haven't done any work, you haven't done anything about your health insurance, you haven't done anything about getting a storage unit, you haven't looked for another job" which except for the storage unit (which i worked on getting ready for last week) I literally worked on yesterday. I spent over an hour at the government center trying to figure out my medicaid shit. I did a whole nother job application yesterday AND helped my bf with his. Oh? And my bf? My mom said "he's not allowed to come by during the week anymore" HE WAS HERE TO HELP ME GET TO THE GOVERNMENT CENTER! IF HE DIDNT COME WITH ME I DONT THINK I WOULD'VE BEEN ABLE TO GO BY MYSELF. Because the stress causes me to flare up which started yesterday and I cried 10 separate times due to frustration, worry, and stress yesterday and was fighting the flare up and spiraling while trying to get this stuff ironed out. So yeah I needed my bf who knows im disabled and knows how hard im trying to help me. Because none of my ACTUAL FAMILY MEMBERS would. Because even my most accepting ones think I'm faking deep down. And my mom isn't accepting.
I tried to tell her to please stop yelling because it makes my flare up worse but she just yelled louder and said "you just don't want to hear the truth" and bitch I KNOW the truth I beat myself up over not being able to do things as fast or as well as I want to. And thats why im so stressed. And she just wouldn't stop so I raised my voice and she said "DON'T YELL AT ME" like YOU came and yelled at me and I calmly said please stop and you wouldn't.
She doesn't fucking understand. I had two migraines yesterday because of stress. I cannot handle too much stress. I have to do things in small chunks or I get overwhelmed and stressed and spiral. And my body PHYSICALLY can't handle that due to my illnesses. I'm not being lazy or avoiding the issue. Im trying to remain calm so my body doesn't fuck me over.
Well guess who's pain level rose by 2 just because of that ordeal? So now everything is going to be harder.
11 notes · View notes
badplush · 2 months
Text
why do i have to work harder to be loved. why do i always have to be the problem. why do they have to ignore me.
6 notes · View notes
snonkerdoodledreams · 11 months
Text
It somehow doesn't occur to me nowadays that maybe I shouldn't be thinking about death everyday.
26 notes · View notes
hearhervoiceinmyhead · 4 months
Text
She never hit me
But she made me into the emotional caregiver after her second divorce from the man who physically and sexually abused me and my brother
She never hit me
But she instilled poor body image into me with obvious comments about herself and subtle comments about me
She never hit me
But she told me being queer was just a phase after I was outed, then boasted of her allyship years later
She never hit me
But no amount of change and effort on my end is ever enough for her
She never hit me
But she told me things no twelve-year-old should have to hear about from their parent
She never hit me
But she puts me down over and over and victimizes herself to make me feel like the villain
She never hit me
But she used to throw things when she was mad, mirroring the man who choked and molested me when those wounds were still very fragile
She never hit me
But she threatened to send me to live with my homophobic, transphobic, neglectful, and emotionally abusive biological father if I didn’t stop disagreeing with her
She never hit me
But she yells at me through panic attacks, calling me dramatic and manipulative, while expecting me to care for her during hers
She never hit me
But she makes me fear sudden outbursts over the smallest things
She never hit me
But she repeatedly compares me to my bio dad despite my urging her to stop
She never hit me
But she makes it impossible to figure out what is safe to tell her and what isn’t, sometimes even being upset over things that were safe in the past
She never hit me
But she’s gone through my phone several times and punished me for things she found
She never hit me
But she’s used my sensory issues, trauma, and physical disabilities to make me do things multiple times
She never hit me
But she accused me of having hickeys on my legs when I was in middle school, they were self harm marks from me compulsively scratching away the top layer of skin
She never hit me
But she forced me to stand in the shower in front of her and shave for the first time while I was sobbing and begging her not to make me do it
She never hit me
But my trauma is always harder on her and suggesting otherwise is being ungrateful to all she’s done for me
She never hit me
But she repeatedly ignores and crosses boundaries and makes me feel horrible for ever setting them
She never hit me
But she still makes comments about me being trans on a regular basis while claiming to be the biggest trans ally
She never hit me
But she downplays certain medical and mental issues in private while using them in public discussions to make herself look like a good mom for putting up with them
She never hit me
But she’s repeatedly attempted to turn my fiancé and brother against me
She never hit me
But she backed me into the corner of the counters while I was making breakfast because she was angry
She never hit me
But she abused me anyways
10 notes · View notes
house-of-slayterr · 11 months
Text
Making memes while having trauma flashbacks as a way to ground myself and cope… obvious Tw for child abuse ahead…
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
25 notes · View notes
madam-miss-fortune · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
71 notes · View notes
traumareaction · 22 days
Text
Sorry mom, for ending up the way u made me.
4 notes · View notes
nothing0fnothing · 7 months
Text
I remember being a kid and not understanding that the kids I went to school with didn't have lives like mine. I thought they all could just manage to be bubbly and unserious and good at school all day then go home to silence like I did.
17 notes · View notes
caintooth · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Some advice I gave to a friend in our group chat tonight, regarding abusive mothers.
Thought I would share it here, too, in case anyone needs to hear it.
Notes:
I use the words “self-therapy assignment” here as an in-context joke term. I am not and have never been a licensed mental health care worker.
I also use the term “narcissist” to refer to my abusive mother. But please know that I am not equating narcissist to abusive. This a screenshot you do not have deeper context for. My friends know me, know my mother, and the relevancy of the word to my situation. Narcissist is not a bad word, an insult, or a “warning sign.” It’s a specific descriptor, with a specific definition, and should be used as such!
89 notes · View notes
flirts-with-dragons · 11 months
Text
I'm angry and I need to type things
I'm so mad about the people that are supposed to help me. I sit around all the time and I'm slowly denying every bit of trauma and disorder I have because my care team is gaslighting me. I'm getting told I'm overreacting and I use extreme language for minor things and I couldn't possibly know anything about my own mind/body. They keep experimenting on me like a rat and it's fucking me up. I'm a living person please treat me like one. Stop being angry at me for trying to be honest about how I feel!! I'm in pain and I just want help!! I'm being told that giving me help would make me "dependant" but i sure as hell can't depend on my current state!! All I want is to heal and the yelling and manipulation is driving me fucking insane and I'm working up to a relapse!! Let me rest!! Just let me have a second of peace without fear!!
21 notes · View notes
toxicparentrants · 2 months
Note
My mother blocked the doorway when she was in the middle of a session of makeing me feel worthless and I got so scared that I jumped out of a 4 meter high window onto sharp gravel and I got really bad cuts and she didn't care and 6 years later I still have some scars.
I’m so sorry you had to experience this. My mom wouldn’t care unless people were looking. She’d snatch us hard in public or slap us and if we rubbed where it hurt she’d lose her mind over it. You aren’t alone. I hope you’re in a better place now.
7 notes · View notes