my mother is emotionally abusive tore me apart and yet
gave me strength. She had a messy childhood... I suppose
that sounds very stereotyped. But she did. She suffered
from clinical depression and was completely unaware of
it. Her father was emotionally and physically abusive to
her and her brothers. Her mother was manipulative, cold,
heartless, and basically came under every term you can
think of that qualifies for emotional abuse. As she got
older, I'm told that my mother became more and more
depressed, and that while she was pregnant with my older
brother and myself, she suffered numerous panic attacks,
and even became suicidal.
Don't know why she had children. I don't think she is a
bad person, but I think she is a damaged, weak, low and
selfish person. She is doing her best to live through me,
and abusing me every day of my life, and yet she has no
She has always been this way.
She never swears at me, she hardly hits me, and she never
neglects me. But her words--god, her words.. She gets
angry and insane over the simplest of things- me
forgetting my school books, staying up a little late,
voicing my opinion at a family dinner....she just blows
up. She has this cold, hard, sharp, cutting voice, and
she uses it so often. She tells me that I'm worthless,
that she should've killed me when I was pregnant, that I
ruined her life. She screams, "what did I do to
deserve you?!" She calls me a bitch behind my back,
I've heard her so many times.
She tells me I'm a
little loser, that it's no wonder I haven't got any
friends, that if I go on the "way you are" then
I will end up with no future, isolated and hated by
everybody. She continually tells friends, family, even
hairdressers and shop keepers, that she "always gets
abused" by me at home, that I'm a "horror"
and that she can barely handle me. She talks about my
flaws in public, even the stupidest things like me
forgetting to clean my room or getting in trouble at
school. She tells me I make her want to kill herself.
My father, though, also plays a big part in this issue. I
genuinely, solely believe that deep down, he's a good
person. When I was little, my dad and I used to be
friends. He would comfort me when me and my mother
fought, and if he saw fit, he would stand up to her,
defend me, even if it meant her raging on him. He was my
protector and my hero and the only family member I could
But as I got older, my eyes have opened. I no longer see
my dad as brave because he isn't. He's confused and lost,
desperate and depressed, and I can tell. He has confided
in me many times that he made a mistake
marrying my mother, and that people like her
werent meant to be mothers. Hes
so afraid of fights that he will do anything to prevent
them, even if it means ignoring my feelings and
pressuring me to shut up about them. He is such a coward
that while my mother abuses me, hell hide out and
ignore us, pretending I dont exist.
But when HE gets mad, theres hell to pay. Hes
always paranoid about my schoolwork and my social
reputation. If I have a falling out with a friend and he
thinks its my fault, or if I do badly in a test, he
just blows up. He screams and he rages, hes so loud
that everybody can hear him. He throws stuff at me-
books, boxes, anything. He hits me, he screams in my
face. He swears ALL THE TIME. He calls me a fucking bitch
and tells me that hes going fucking crazy. He
claims that he is a very patient and generous man, and
that I am continually breaching his trust and
disappointing him. When I was little, he always had a bad
temper, but he was reasonable. Now I just think hes
mental. When he sends me to my room after screaming at
me, I curl up and sit there, and when I hear his
footsteps down the hallway I can almost scream out in all
consuming fear and horror.
Teamed up with my mother, my dad is ten times worse. When
theyre both mad at me, things are as bad as they
can get. Together they swear at me, insult me, and my
mother laughs and watches as my dad hits and throws
things at me. He also says some disgusting things. When I
was about seven and I was struggling to do mathematics
that hed set me, he told me that unless I stop
being lazy and start concentrating, Ill wind up a
loser who has sex and children with every fucking
Tom, Dick and Harry you meet on the street. During
all of this, my mother watches or laughs, often adding
her own harsh thoughts.
Since I was in grade four, I have been suffering from
clinical depression. I havent actually been
diagnosed with it, but considering it runs in the family
and I have all the symptoms, its basically a fact.
I remember when I was ten and I looked
Depression up on the internet. I knew my mum
had it, and I was wondering whether this was the reason I
felt sad and lonely and empty for no reason.
The following morning, I went to my dad and told him that
I thought I had depression. His first reaction was to
smile, shake his head and say, No. Later, he
looked up the symptoms and sceptically asked me if I had
any of them. When I told him about feeling isolated and
empty, and guilty for no reason, he actually laughed, and
said No again.
It took a long time for my parents to realise the
severity of my depression, and they still really
havent, since I have learnt not to confide in them.
They did all the Right things- they forced me
to exercise, they took me to the doctor, they talked to
me about it, but when they realised that text book
instructions werent working, they gave up.
My mum wouldnt allow my father to take me to a
psychiatrist and get me properly diagnosed with clinical
depression. I think it was because shes in denial-
or maybe because she has clinical depression herself and
wants to keep the attention. She convinced me that I was
upset for real reasons, not depressed, and
that I was really okay, just fine. I agreed
to these statements because I felt guilty for worrying
My dad has promised to make me an appointment with a
psychiatrist many, many times, but he never has. I
stopped taking him seriously a few months ago.
My mum always burdens me with her problems. She never
goes to my dad, because he doesnt understand
depression or anxiety. My older brother is 15 and happy,
free spirited and loud, as well as slightly obnoxious and
predictably insensitive. So she comes to me, because I
feel depressed and because I feel pain, and instead of
sympathising, she just dumps on me.
She asks me whether Im still depressed. Usually I
lie and say Im fine, but occasionally Ill
tell her I am. If I tell her Im depressed,
shell ask why. When I tell her, she says something
like Oh, but thats just because youre
upset. Youre not actually depressed. IM the
one whos REALLY depressed
shell just jump in and say, Just imagine-
its ten times worse for me, Im really bad.
Youre not that bad. Then she goes on to tell
me about all of her life problems. She tells me stuff no
12 year old should know about her own mother. She says
that everyday she wants to die, that life generally
is a bitch, that shes divorcing my dad
as soon as you kids move out. She told me
that she envies people who kill themselves, and that the
only reason she doesnt commit suicide is because
its her duty to look after you kids.
Its wrong to kill myself. Not because she
loves us, but because were her duty.
Both my parents want to live a story book perfect life.
They dote on my brother because hes energetic and
happy and normal. My brother has all kinds of
privileges that Im constantly deprived of, such as
calling and seeing friends, having MSN and going down to
the local shop. My mum told me that Im not allowed
to do these things because Im not very
practical, not very smart, and because shes
too afraid to let me.
My dad gets angry when Im depressed. He also often
ridicules my depression. For example, one day he burst
into my room while I was crying. He asked me what was
wrong. I shrugged, still crying. He replied, Oh,
you dont know. You just feel like crying, because
youre so depressed and you want to die. He
doesnt understand it, so he makes fun of it.
When my mum asks me how my day was, and I reply,
Not so good, or even, Crappy,
shell say, Oh well, thats life- a
bitch, or I dont want to know about
it. Often when my brother is telling her some
happy, jolly story about his friends, shell be
smiling at him sickeningly. Once I asked her why she
appears to favour him over me. She replied, You
have to admit, youre a very nasty, rude child.
Im a very good mum to you, and youre horrible
to me. Your brother is a happy child.
Even when my brother is rude, he gets away with it. Once,
my dad was teasing him about something, and my brother
snapped, Get lost, you ass! If I had ever
said this, I wouldve been dead. But when my mother
confronted my brother about his behaviour, my dad said,
No, no, I provoked him. Its okay.
Ive recently fallen out with all of my friends, and
my parents never hesitated to tell me what you did
was wrong. It was your fault. I knew this was going to
happen- why dont you listen? and so on. I
have been hanging out with some new people, and although
they treat me well, I feel more alone than ever. Since
December last year I have been continually waking up at 3
o clock in the morning. Sometimes Id wake up
at midnight, or one thirty. Then I would lie there for a
few hours, unable to sleep, until I eventually cried
myself into a deep and fretful slumber, usually where I
had nightmares. I DID tell my parents, but after they
tried the usual text book solutions- exercise, a warm
drink, etc, and they didnt work, my mum told me to
just get over it.
I am not a cutter, but I used to hit myself, as stupid as
I know that sounds. I used to bang my head hard against
the wall, and then Id feel dizzy and sick, but
strangely calm and tender, and then Id cry the rest
of my pain away. I dont do that anymore, for I fear
I have lost my senses. I dont FEEL anymore. I have
not confided in anyone for a long time. I am known- or,
rather, my mother has made people believe- that I am an
outgoing, loud, and open person. Recently, though, as I
scraped away the layers of lies that my parents, family
and numerous abusive friends have laid upon me, I have
discovered that I am far from this description. Instead I
am a quiet, almost shy person. The fact my
friends have abandoned me, and my
mothers usual abuse, has caused me to have deep
trouble with trusting anybody. I feel scared and confused
when people are nice to me, cause I dont get
why they like me. Why dont you hate me, sir? Why
arent you running from me, miss? Arent I
disgusting? Cause thats what mummy says.
Sometimes I wish I was cutting or drinking or high on
drugs, because that would guarantee peoples
attention. Because Im so quiet, because Im
such an accomplished and skilful liar and hider, and I
have built a wall around me, people dont ever think
there could be something wrong with me. But inside,
Im so damn lonely. Sometimes I think that if I took
a razor and slit my wrists and watched them bleed, or if
I drank that poison under the sink, nobody would even
realize that I was gone. I cant even cry anymore,
because when I do, my mum mocks me.
I am right now craving attention. Most people will think
Im a selfish little brat, and an attention seeker,
and I suppose I am. I want love so much that I would
probably, literally kill for it. For someone to
appreciate me and love me and want me in their life, I
would kill for. I want to be nurtured and loved and cared
for and now I am looking for it, searching so hard,
screaming its name, and yet all of it continues to hide
What is scariest is that when theyre not angry, my
parents are completely normal. I just forget about
everything they said, and then everythings perfect
and fine until next week when it happens again and then
its starting all over.
Im lost and confused. I was so shocked when I
realised what my parents do could even be considered
emotional abuse. I almost wanted to wipe out this fact
from my memory, forget it and pretend things were okay.
Cause its so easy to forget, to open up and
love again, rather than face the truth.
Everybody in my life who Ive trusted has either
abandoned me or betrayed me. The people who have helped
me, I have been forbidden to make further contact with.
Im so lonely that even when Im surrounded
with Friends, I feel like Im standing
by myself at the end of the world. I will never kill
myself, for some reason. I dont want to die, and
this is what scares me. After all of this hell, some part
of me is still okay. Thats whats confused me.
Some little part of me is unbroken, and as I sit here and
type this at 1:00 AM on Saturday night, I know I
dont want to die. I want to survive and to be able
to say, Yeah, this was shit. So? Im
Already I seem to know too much for my age. A
lot of people who dont know my real age come and
tell me their problems, and they tell me Im a
listener, that I have such good emotional
awareness. I know why. All this pain, all this
sorrow and confusion and loneliness and desperation in
I know it all! Why? Why me?