I try hard to forget my mother. I left her behind a long time ago, but I know I've had PTSD from being her daughter. And hooking up with vociferous, patronizing, selfish people was a breeze after her. Even N's have seemed easy to deal with, almost like a breath of fresh air after her.
My mother was incredibly beautiful, and often got away with being so cruel for fun or revenge. She even did a half successful penis-lopping with a razor-blade on a guy for fun. When he had an affair and begged her to forgive him, her condition was "only if you let me cut your fingernails." She made me sit and watch while she cut his fingernails, right down into the bed, saying, "Thi is what happens to people who hurt me." All his fingers bled and he couldn't work for days. He was a builder.
Another time she set his testicles on fire when he was passed out drunk and he ran into my room, naked and screaming for me to put the fire out. I was about 8. Here I was out in hte yard with the hose on this guys testicles. She'd nicked off for the night. Came home the next day and treated it like a big joke. "Any bastard wants to screw around on me, and they'd better watch out!"
She drowned my dog in front of me, because "It's a little yapper."
She oganised my first child being adopted out without my knowldge till the last minute. A nurse told me. I couldn't work out why mother was paying so much attention and was at the hospital a lot. When I found out I cleared off out of the hospital early, after a ceasarian section, and hid out at a friends place for 2 weeks, till my bithday which made me legal age to keep my baby.
Another guy she was with, when she got mad at him she used to feed dog food to him, and he didn't know, but she'd tell me. Or sometimes if she was mad at anyone, she'd get their toothbrush and scrub under the toilet rim with it, saying " Get hepatitis and die you bastard," then put it back. I saw her do this quite a lot. I would try to go in later and wash the toothbrush. Needles to say whenever she was angry with me I'd hide my toothbrush.
And I used to hate eating anything I didn't see her make.
She did too many awful things for me to go into, but one time, when I was about 10 I was sleping at a friends house, I had a nightmare and woke up crying. My friend's mother came in and asked me if I was okay. I told her something about my mother that she had done to me, that was TRUE. I'd never shrared one story with anyone before this. I was always and still am the comic, the funny lighthearted one. Always making people laugh. The next day she (my friend's mother) confronted my mother with my 'Story'. My mother cried in front of her and me, and 'begged' me to tell the truth. She said to me in front of my friend and her mother "Why are you lying about me?"
When we got home mother made a phone call, then she packed my bag, I didn't have much so it didn't take long. Then she drove me to an orphanage. We parked outside the orphanage, and she sat in the car and told me that she had arranged for me to go there. She was so sick of me and my lies. How could I make up such stories about her. I was crying and begging not to be sent to an orphanage. I remember looking at that building and being terrified. Then eventually she offered me the out. That if I admitted to my friend's mother that I was lying, and promised never to tell stories about her again I could stay living with her. I did. I went back and 'admitted' to my friend and her mother that I made it up for sympathy, that I was lying. My friend withdrew for a while, but then she believed me. I guess because she came to my house and could see how weird it all was.
My mother's cruelty never stopped. One time she pretended that she had killed and cooked my children. She'd offered to look after my children while my ex and I went to a show. She enver offered to look after my kids. Stupid me. When I got home I could smell meat cooking. We were vegetarians. I said what's cooking, she said "2 little boys." I ran to the kitchen and the oven light was on, she had a leg of lamb cooking wrapped up in babies jump suit, although I didn't know it was a leg of lamb at the time. I ran to the cot and the baby wasn't in the cot. I passed out, really, I actually passed out, and my husband of the time thought I over-reacted. She'd put the baby in bed with the older child. And she'd planned the whole thing, and bought the leg of lamb over in her bag to play this trick.
Anyway, I think she was an NPD type but way much more. Maybe she is a sociopath, or just a nut, I don't know. The orphanage experience silenced me once for all for about 35 years I think. It was very effective indeed. I never shared or told any of the stuff from her, even as an adult until recently. I still felt somehow she'd find a way to punish me if I did. I never told my first husband much at all. I just often found myself having to explain her cruel behaviour. I never told my kids much or anything really about her, and even in therapy I tend to avoid topics about her.
I sometimes wish I had of not backed down, stuck to my guns, and gone to live in that bloody orphanage. I was offered an out and didn't take it. I'm thinking I still might do that sometimes.
Thanks for reading, and sorry if it's too yukky.
Guest
