When my half sister Anita was about 15 years old, she lied to the high school counselor and claimed that my parents beat her, locked her in a closet and made her do all the housework herself.
The counselor contacted the authorities, the authorities came and got Anita to put her in a foster home… where she would lie and say they beat her, locked her in a closet and made her do all the chores. She ran away, was picked up and put in another home, where, surprise! She claimed they beat her, locked her in a closet and made her do all the chores.
In the meantime, I was loving the fact that “Sissy” wasn’t around to hurt me any more. From as far back as I can remember, Anita would intentionally hurt me. She would bite me, pull chunks of hair out of my head, scratch me, hit me, tickle my ribs until they bruised and I peed my pants… at which point I would get in trouble for wetting myself.
Anita’s favorite torture was called the “Titty Twister”. She would ask me, “What’s worse than a tornado?” and before I could get away, she would grab one of my nipples, pinch it as hard as she could, twist it and screech “A TITTY TWISTER!”. By today’s standards, that would be considered sexual abuse.
Through all the torture, I can remember my father physically stepping in and getting her off me. I don’t remember my mother ever coming to my rescue. I’m not saying she didn’t, just that I don’t remember it.
Eventually, the authorities that removed Anita from our home got wise to her lies and brought her back, telling her that if she caused any more trouble, she would be arrested and sit in jail until she turned 18. She got married on her 18th birthday and moved out. That was in 1977.
The abuse continued whenever she came for a visit… until I was about 16 (1986) and realized that I was strong enough to kick her ass. So I did. I told her to never touch me again. I didn’t speak to her again until 2013. But that’s another story for later.
Unfortunately, the whole foster home idea became a form of torture that my mother used on me. What better way to scare your kid into “behaving” than to threaten to send them away?
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Jan 7, 1985
Hi. Oh, boy, what a mess. Dad said he saw Dean and I walking to his house at lunch time today. It must have been David and Kathy because Dean wasn’t even at school today.
My mom even says I’m flunking school and that I’ve been late a lot. Actually, geography is the only class I’m having problems with and I haven’t been late for any of my classes since the beginning of the school year. I have the feeling that Mom and Dad don’t want me any more. They keep saying I do things when I don’t and they hurt me a lot (mentally).
But they don’t believe me when I tell them the truth. They said that if I wanted I could go live someplace else. But I don’t want to move away from my friends, family, home, etc. Dad said that if I do go to live in a foster home, it won’t be here in Othello. I’m beginning to wonder if I should move away. But if I do, there’s no coming back. And I don’t want that to happen. I want to stay here. If only they would believe me when I say that that wasn’t me walking with Dean to his house today. Like I said before, he wasn’t even in school today.
Jan 8, 1985
Oh, boy, what a MESS! I can’t go off the school grounds at lunchtime.
I wish Mom and Dad would believe me when I say that that wasn’t me walking to his house.
Jan 17, 1985
I don’t feel like going to school ’cause I have a sore throat but I’d do anything to get away from my mom. I’m getting the feeling that they don’t want me here any more. Sort of like an abandoned feeling. Two more months, I’ll be fifteen. Do you think my folks will let me have a little more space and freedom? Probably not.
Oh, today in choir, as usual, Dean and I sat by each other. And my mom can’t say I’m chasing after him ’cause he’s always the one who moves over next to me.
Feb 6, 1985
Hi. I didn’t get my history homework done. I tried to explain to my mom that there was to
Oh, sometimes I could just slug her a good one. She makes me so MAD!
Feb 7, 1985
I pulled my hand loose just before we caught sight of the car. I was afraid my mom would say something I would regret.
Feb 16, 1985
The sun’s shining. I want to go outside and skateboard or go bicycle riding. I’m finished cleaning my room, making my bed and my homework. I wish my mom would give me some space and freedom.
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Dean’s brother, David, had a girlfriend, Kathy, who had long blond hair that looked a lot like mine. From a distance, Dean and David looked alike, and Kathy and I looked alike. I doubt it was my Dad who saw them, that it was actually my mother who spotted them, then reported it to my father.
What’s confusing to me is that which ever of my parents that spotted “us” didn’t think to look at the girl’s coat. My coat was bright blue and I wore a red scarf, hard to miss. I have no idea what Kathy was wearing, but I doubt it was anything like my coat. And I only had ONE COAT, so it wasn’t as if they didn’t know what I was wearing that day.
What I suspect happened is that my mother saw them walking, thought it was Dean and me, didn’t investigate further and got a bug up her butt to punish me. Sadly, Dad believed her.
See? From a distance we look similar.
These kinds of incidents were not uncommon. I would do something my mother would perceive as “bad”, or she would make something up, she’d scream at my father about what a horrid person I was and I would be punished somehow, usually grounded, sometimes slapped in the face. And the punishment never fit the “crime”: “You stole something from me so you can’t go to the next speech tournament.” or “If you don’t get your homework done, I’ll cancel your orthodontist appointment!”
My mother didn’t approve of Dean because he is Hispanic. She didn’t approve of anyone that wasn’t “white”. She’s extremely prejudiced and bigoted. You should have heard her rant and rave about Willy, who was African American and Hai who was Vietnamese. Wow. I didn’t hear the end of it until I broke it off with them. But she wholeheartedly approved of my husband because he has blond hair, blue eyes and is “white”.
And the whole thing about sending me to live in a foster home… what the heck? My mother had my Dad so snowballed about me being a horrid teenager “just like Anita” that he was willing and ready to send me away! She tried SO HARD to drive a wedge between him and me.
Characteristics of a narcissistic mother
http://www.daughtersofnarcissisticmothers.com/characteristics-of-narcissistic-mothers.html
1. Everything she does is deniable.
2. She violates your boundaries.
4. She undermines.
5. She demeans, criticizes and denigrates.
6. She makes you look crazy.
8. She’s a liar in too many ways to count.
10. She manipulates your emotions in order to feed on your pain.
14. She terrorizes.
20. She is never wrong about anything.
22. She blames.
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