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Justin's Mother


Hi Steve,

I'm 19. I live with my mum.

>Tell me what your parents say that help you feel
attacked, defensive, afraid, threatened, criticized or
invalidated.

My mom says to me:

"There is something wrong with you/seriously wrong
with you"

"I don't care what happens to you or what you do; just
get away from me/leave me alone/don't ever speak to me
again"

"Because you ARE an ogre" (I said I felt like I was an
ogre, like I was being treated like an ogre when my
mum first started ignoring my existence, and I asked
why she treated me like that)

"You shouldn't feel that way"

"you are never allowed to be angry"

"there is never a good reason to be angry"

"you can always make up a reason to be upset with me
can't you", then moments later, "sorry, you can always
FIND a reason"

"what's wrong with you doing all the housework?"

"why are you always causing problems?"

"you're too upset"

"your feelings are too much"

"you can't possibly be that hurt by ____________"

"if you feel hurt, it's your fault; it's your choice."

"you make me suicidal"

But her favorite thing to say is nothing. She likes to
speak by walking away. By looking at anything but me.
By rolling her eyes and turning away. There are more
quotes, but they require too much context.

In February I lost 25 pounds and spent a month hiding
from her in our bathroom, using drugs that she bought
for me because it keeps me sedate enough to tolerate
the terror and pain I feel when I live at home instead
of in the park. She didn't say anything until she
knocked on the door to tell me she was mad at me for
not hanging out with her more and to tell me that I
was making her suicidal. I slashed up my arms and went
to spend a week at a youth shelter.

I wish my mom was nice to me. I wish she loved me just
because she loved me, and not just when I make her
happy or stay out of her way.

I once wrote "why don't you care?!" all over the walls
because I was so, so, so desperate to be heard. It
didn't work. My mom didn't say anything.

Cheers,

--Justin

 

 

 

hi steve,

thanks for getting back to me--no worries about taking
a while, i didn't notice cuz we don't have the
internet at home anymore (i go to the library or the
corner store by my house) and i get into this
headspace where i just stay in my room all day and
don't talk to anybody because I'm scared and i don't
want to hurt any worse than i already do. plus all the
communication i seem to be capable of in that
headspace is screaming. no words, just screaming the
way little kids shriek when they are really, really
upset, and that doesn't tell anybody anything. i am
fucked up.

thanks for your support. it's weird to have somebody
say my mom is really psychologically abusive. i don't
tell very many people. to be honest, it's hard for me
to accept because my instant response is "aha, but
it's complicated; i am a jerk so maybe it's not
abuse?" it's weird, i go back and forth between
thinking i'm terrible and being outraged that i'm
treated so badly.

from sixteen and half to eighteen and a half, i didn't
live at home. i lived with friends, a neighbour, and
in youth shelters and, for a few nights, in the park,
on the street, and on my friend's back porch. now i
have resigned myself to staying at home for while.
Maybe I will get traumatized and won't get any of the
nurturing I want, but when I went looking for it
elsewhere, I didn't find it and got traumatized in new
ways, so I don't want to try anymore--at least right
now.

there have been three good periods with my mom--times
when i have felt respected and listened to, and the
"Justin is monstrous and defective" stuff stopped.
after my nineteenth birthday, it went on for three
whole weeks and in fact, we actually had a
conversation about her abusing me my whole life and
she apologized (i thanked her over and over and over
and shared with her the fact that this was pretty much
the best day of my life with her because finally i
felt heard). i don't know what made these periods of
good times end.

things have been really bad. my mom basically stopped
talking to me for the week, and then yesterday we got
into a fight...although it wasn't really a fight
because she didn't really want to talk to me and would
just say something about me and then stop
acknowledging my presence....and i lost it and started
having this meltdown and wound up beating myself up
and screaming, "please just listen, just talk to me,
why won't you talk to me? why don't you love me? why?
please stop ignoring me why don't you love me?" and so
on. my mum put on her coat and went out.

between my mum going out and coming back, our neighbours
called the police. i had gone to my room to cut myself,
listen to music and find somebody to call.
unfortunately, i didn't put my shirt back on
immediately after I scratched th word "bad" into my
chest...because it makes me feel better, it's like own
secret record of pain...and i was shirtless, crying,
and talking to somebody at the youth crisi line when
the cops came upstairs, saw me bleeding and told me I
was going to the hospital. they said i could either go
voluntarily in an ambulance or they could arrest me
and drag me there if necessary. i chose the ambulance.
nobody at the hospital even cared (which i was happy
about because whenever people take notice of me they
take notice without asking me what I think or what's
going on for me and something traumatizing happens "in
my best interests" and against my will) and they kept
going on about nagging parents in the "oh, c'mon,
everybody hates their parents, you're no worse off"
vein. it was the worst day of my life. i feel all raw
but kind of like i feel nothing.

i think it is mostly my fault, because instead of just
letting things be, I freak out. my mum's not nice to
me, but i'm not very nice to her anymore either. it's
not like my mum says, "get out of my house and never
come back" and I then leave, or queitly say I feel
hurt. well, i did for a while, but things just seemed
to get worse. instead, what happens is I'll get this
blind panic and the best thing I can come up with is
to yell "I hate you!!" and slam doors. later in my
room i'll think about what i was trying to say but i
don't say it, because my mum doesn't want to hear it.
she tells me so.

i can kind of understand but I also at the same time
i kind of can't, because if my mum wanted tell me why
she says that she doesn't want me and that i'm and
ogre I would be all ears, i would be so damn willing
to listen to how she felt. i figure it's hard to love
a kid who says he hates you, and as long as I react by
saying hurtful things back, I figure it's gotta be at
least partially my fault.

i would like to be there for other teens, to listen
and let them know they're not alone.

thanks again.

-Justin

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