clairvoyanceetc

I don’t believe in what western culture calls karma

(It is not an accurate interpretation of the word — I studied world religions as an elective at uni)

In my life experience what goes around doesn’t come around

My mother had most people convinced she was a lovely person

Yet she was an abusive lying narcissist

She had a good life for 93 years

So many of our culture’s accepted architypes and norms are not true

One is that mothers love their children

There are many of us who were not loved by our mothers–many more than I originally thought.

Some whose mothers didn’t love them are fortunate to have a spouse that does –others go through life never being loved

I could claim to be writing this in support of those who have suffered parental abuse:

IT IS  partly my motivation

But my main reason is I tire of people telling me how lovely my mother was

It wasn’t until this century that I admitted to myself that she was horrible

I always loved her and thought she was beautiful

And I have just been reminded of a Christmas where she kicked and bashed me for no apparent reason

(I was 42 years old)

Having suffered abuse from being a baby (flash backs to wheni was in a cot)

I attracted abusive partners

A doctor whose mother was abusive told me that people sense those who will tolerate abuse and we attract abusers

I thought my mother most beautiful and intelligent,

So it must be because “I am useless a failure a disappointment neither use nor ornament –cannot do anything right” that she didn’t love me

  (This she told me regularly and reinforced by making me do everything at least 10 times –and still not right – when I was young –and constantly criticising me when I was an adult)

Even in this day and age if i commented about my mother’s abuse –the reply was “you must have deserved it”

If I told people that my husband was abusive I was either called a liar or told “I don’t want to know”

It is hard to love oneself when one has never been loved

(I have the best children and grandchildren so I am loved but it doesnt help me love myself)

I am in my 70s I still have no self confidence and constantly criticize myself

This year I had been trying to love and forgive my mother– never lasts – not long before I am reminded of her lies.

Psychologists tell us to try and understand what a parent’s life was like.

They also say “Go to a time and place when you felt safe” – there isn’t one

I have flash backs to when I was still in my cot

Imagine what it is like for a child whose mother would just change into a screaming bashing psycho without warning

When my first child was born – her advice was – “if she cries put her in her cot:

  shut the door

 and let her cry herself to sleep “

I didn’t follow this advice

Must have happened to me but I don’t remember

I was never hugged

I have blocked out a lot of my abuse but somethings will occasionally trigger a flashback.

When  I was already going to school my mother pushed me into the wood burning part of the wood stove when it was lit and shut the door: She then pulled me out: wrapped me in a blanket and told people that she had saved my life after I crawled in. I had first degree burns.

When I was ten my mother was bashing me with a scrubbing brush and had also washed my mouth out with soap.

 I said to her “I haven’t done anything wrong”

 and she told my that she just felt like bashing me.

 Despite this, for over half a century I believed that I deserved abuse because this is what everyone told me.

“YOU MUST HAVE DESERVED IT”

Last century when i still thought my mother was lovely (and the reason I was abused was because I deserved it) I occasionally let her mind my children and my first husbands nephews who lived with us

Brett was 23 when he told me how abusive my mother was to him

He was four when I asked her to mind the children while I was at work

I didn’t hear about how horrible she was to his brother Shane until after her funeral

On one occasion she had tied Shane to a kitchen chair with an electric cord and taken the other children to the zoo

So he couldn’t go to the toilet or even get a drink of water

This century my mother’s physical abuse was limited to slapping me across the face when she felt like it

But her mental abuse was “full on”

When my Dad was dying I took her to the hospital every day and we stayed for most of the day.                         

 I had been helping the morning shift and when the roster changed Mother went crying to the RN who came back and glared at me.

When we collected Dad’s things after he died this RN told me off for abusing my mother!

My Dad was a lovely person but was never allowed to pay me any attention or my mother would have a screaming fit.

 On his death bed he asked me to look after her.

 I did so, not just because I had promised Dad that I would but because I was hoping that my mother would love me and be nice to me.

NEVER HAPPENED

She would say nice things about me to people that knew me and tell these lies to people that didn’t

Sometimes the stories would come back to me:
othertimes I would wonder why people were being nasty to me for no reason

She would tell lies about how horrible Dad was or how horrible I was to her and most people believed her

I was almost 64 when she died so I am not going to rave on about a life time of her abuse

It would fill a large book

  Toward the end she wasn’t allowed to be alone so until I got her a placement in the nursing home she stayed with me – I slept on the couch an gave her my bed

It was difficult to get a placement for her because nursing homes liked people to have an house to sell as a deposit

Mum had an housing trust unit – which she insisted I keep paying the rent on because she thought she would go back.

When I eventually found her a placement in a local nursing home her clothes had to have name tags pressed on. She apologised to the staff for my being too lazy to sew them on. Although this time her attempt at insulting me didn’t work the staff just presumed it was her age!

So many of our culture’s accepted architypes and norms are not true

One is that mothers love their children

There are many of us who were not loved by our mothers–many more than I originally thought.

Some whose mothers didn’t love them are fortunate to have a spouse that does –others go through life never being loved

I could claim to be writing this in support of those who have suffered parental abuse:

IT IS  partly my motivation

But my main reason is I tire of people telling me how lovely my mother was

It wasn’t until this century that I admitted to myself that she was horrible

I always loved her and thought she was beautiful

And I have just been reminded of a Christmas where she kicked and bashed me for no apparent reason

(I was 42 years old)

Having suffered abuse from being a baby (flash backs to wheni was in a cot)

I attracted abusive partners

A doctor whose mother was abusive told me that people sense those who will tolerate abuse and we attract abusers

I thought my mother most beautiful and intelligent,

So it must be because “I am useless a failure a disappointment neither use nor ornament –cannot do anything right” that she didn’t love me

  (This she told me regularly and reinforced by making me do everything at least 10 times –and still not right – when I was young –and constantly criticising me when I was an adult)

Even in this day and age if i commented about my mother’s abuse –the reply was “you must have deserved it”

If I told people that my husband was abusive I was either called a liar or told “I don’t want to know”

It is hard to love oneself when one has never been loved

(I have the best children and grandchildren so I am loved but it doesnt help me love myself)

I am in my 70s I still have no self confidence and constantly criticize myself

This year I had been trying to love and forgive her– never lasts – not long before I am reminded of her lies.

Psychologists tell us to try and understand what a parent’s life was like.

They also say “Go to a time and place when you felt safe” – there isn’t one

I have flash backs to when I was still in my cot

Imagine what it is like for a child whose mother would just change into a screaming bashing psycho without warning

When my first child was born – her advice was – “if she cries put her in her cot:

  shut the door

 and let her cry herself to sleep “

I didn’t follow this advice

Must have happened to me but I don’t remember

I was never hugged

I have blocked out a lot of my abuse but somethings will occasionally trigger a flashback.

When  I was already going to school my mother pushed me into the wood burning part of the wood stove when it was lit and shut the door: She then pulled me out: wrapped me in a blanket and told people that she had saved my life after I crawled in. I had first degree burns.

When I was ten my mother was bashing me with a scrubbing brush and had also washed my mouth out with soap.

 I said to her “I haven’t done anything wrong”

 and she told my that she just felt like bashing me.

 Despite this, for over half a century I believed that I deserved abuse because this is what everyone told me.

“YOU MUST HAVE DESERVED IT”

Last century when i still thought my mother was lovely (and the reason I was abused was because I deserved it) I occasionally let her mind my children and my first husbands nephews who lived with us

Brett was 23 when he told me how abusive my mother was to him

He was four when I asked her to mind the children while I was at work

I didn’t hear about how horrible she was to his brother Shane until after her funeral

On one occasion she had tied Shane to a kitchen chair with an electric cord and taken the other children to the zoo

So he couldn’t go to the toilet or even get a drink of water

This century my mother’s physical abuse was limited to slapping me across the face when she felt like it

But her mental abuse was “full on”

When my Dad was dying I took her to the hospital every day and we stayed for most of the day.                         

 I had been helping the morning shift and when the roster changed Mother went crying to the RN who came back and glared at me.

When we collected Dad’s things after he died this RN told me off for abusing my mother!

My Dad was a lovely person but was never allowed to pay me any attention or my mother would have a screaming fit.

 On his death bed he asked me to look after her.

 I did so, not just because I had promised Dad that I would but because I was hoping that my mother would love me and be nice to me.

NEVER HAPPENED

She would say nice things about me to people that knew me and tell these lies to people that didn’t

Sometimes the stories would come back to me:
othertimes I would wonder why people were being nasty to me for no reason

She would tell lies about how horrible Dad was or how horrible I was to her and most people believed her

I was almost 64 when she died so I am not going to rave on about a life time of her abuse

It would fill a large book

  Toward the end she wasn’t allowed to be alone so until I got her a placement in the nursing home she stayed with me – I slept on the couch an gave her my bed

It was difficult to get a placement for her because nursing homes liked people to have an house to sell as a deposit

Mum had an housing trust unit – which she insisted I keep paying the rent on because she thought she would go back.

When I eventually found her a placement in a local nursing home her clothes had to have name tags pressed on. She apologised to the staff for my being too lazy to sew them on. Although this time her attempt at insulting me didn’t work the staff just presumed it was her age!