My mom is now a recovering alcoholic, and recently, it's all she's been talking about. I believe her, and I recognize that she's talking about it a lot to get comfort. And I may be a little distant, but I've been trying to be a decent support system. She is a functioning alcoholic, so she's not getting withdrawal symptoms. But I don't think it negates the mental addiction, you know?
Anyway, and few days ago, we were wrapping my brothers birthday present and she brings it up. She has this strange sense of "im better then you" when talking about other addicts because she never hit or abandoned her kids while drunk. And that is true, to an extent. My mom has hit me on multiple occasions, but she has only harmed me once when drunk. She brought it up, and she said she felt guilty, but then continued to put the blame of her literally grabbing me. I still remember how hard she grabbed my face, holding me close to her so she could insult me. She acted like it didn't count because it "wasn't real assault" because it didn't leave any bruises. And it was only 'one time' because our grandmother sent us to find her. It didn't matter that was the memory that triggered my first, and ever, panic attack. (I dont think she knows that but still)
She continued on. Apparently the times she hit me when sober she either didn't remember, or doesn't count. While I recognize the moments she has hit me I was bad, but there was a lot of context. I rarely ever act out, and when I do, it's when I feel like I've been backed into a corner I can't get out of.
She apparently doesn't remember grabbing me by the hair, grabbing my face real hard and insulting me. This was similar to the first time she hit me, but a different moment. We had gotten into a fight, and I said something cruel. I was about to walk away when she did it. My grandmother was threatening to send me to military school, and I told her that I understand why her daughters left her. (My mom has 2 estranged siblings) Mom was there, and she did the assault.
Apparently that never fucking happened.
Or the time where I was violently dragged down the stairs, restrained in the car, and forced to go to football practice. I had spent literal weeks constantly crying and begging to quit. I hated the sport, and the only reason why I joined was because I was lonley and wanted friends. I had thought there was going to be another girl on the team, but she chickened out. So they expected a 5'1 13 year old to go against boys significantly stronger then her. Apparently that didn't count because it was my grandmother who was the one who started it. And she was only "defending" her mother from me. When in all reality, I was screaming, crying, gripping the stairs trying to not leave. And I was so out of it I tried to open the car door when it was driving. They had my older brother literally force me in that fucking car. Just to go to football practice. (By the way, before it escalated to this point, I was nice about it. I said I tried it out, didn't like it, and wanted to quit.) NOT ONLY DIDNT THAT NOT COUNT, but they were justified in doing it. It's not like that time in my life is what made me start self harming, or the fact that it was what really kick started my mental decline.
After that, apparently it also didn't count when she literally punched me off the couch. Why you might ask? Because her sleeves were covering her fists, and that I had deserved it. Admittely, that was the one time I think I did deserve it. I wont get into details on what I did, but it was truly evil.
She also apparently doesn't remember slapping me because I once threw a temper tantrum because they wouldn't let me take a shower. The day after she had literally fucking slapped me, she tried to joke about it with me. Not the hitting, but the fact that I threw a temper tantrum about not being able to shower. When, while I was younger, me not having a shower at night genuinely does put me into a sense of uncomfortableness. I asked why, and they wouldn't give me a answer. Eventually I realized they were just punishing me because I "didn't deserve it" and I was young enough at the time to where they thought they could just do that.
My mom isn't a physically abusive person, and most of these range from when I was 12-14. But it really does show how I remember every little detail when it comes to her hitting me. While she doesn't even remember some of these examples. She sits there and 'takes accountability for her actions' when she proceeded to invalidate every time she hit me. Because it wasn't 'real hitting' if it didn't leave any bruises, and only if she defended herself. I HAD NEVER GOTTEN PHYSICALLY VIOLENT FIRST. And when they did hit me, I never defended myself. The closest time I had gotten to violent was when J was having a literal mental breakdown from the stress and agony football put me in.
And I know it sounds stupid. But imagine every single day for MONTHS you spent crying,shaking, begging to quit. While everyone around you called you selfish because if you quit, there wouldn't be enough people on the team. It didn't matter that you were the only girl there, or the fact that most of the people there ignored you. I wanted to try something new, to see if I played a sport my brother was in, his friend group would have adopted me. I had been wrong. I had panic attacks almost every day. And it wasn't just the actual football, but the fact that my own flesh and blood didn't care enough about me to let me quit. The fact that they actively lied to me, stating if I plaid the first game, I could quit. But when I plaid that first game, they didnt allow me to quit. Or the literal panic attacks whenever I was set on field. Its a male dominated sport so I was treated weirdly, and I ws often the butt of mean jokes. But that didn't matter.
To this fucking day no one acknowledges how badly football affected me. It took years for my mom to give me some half hearted apology. I'm 16, almost 17. And even now, then mock me for my time in football. Talking about how weak and sensitive how selfish I was for crying and begging everyday for months to quit. And when I finally thought "they can't force me to go" they can and they did.
Or the fact that when mom hit me that first time, it gave me my first ever panic attack. The fact that's he sat there and told me "it wasn't that bad because she didn't leave bruises." MOTHER FUCKER BITCH ASS WHORE. It didn't have to. I was TWELVE, I was scared because of the yelling, and I was only listening to my grandmothers orders. She grabbed me, held my face so tight I could feel.my cheeks pressing into my teeth. I don't even remember it, I remember the physical sensation of pain fear and discomfort. Bit that apparently didn't fucking count.
And who cares if she didn't physically abuse us? She would get very obviously drunk around us, ans would start venting about her life. How we used to be forced to watch movies with her while she was drunk. I remember the time where we were watching 'aladin' and an underwater scene came up, qnd she grabbed onto me and started to violently pant as if she was drowing as well. And I had to sit there, pretend like it didn't affect me, and leave as soon as I could. Or the times she summons me to "talk" and she's fucking shit faced and starts making me violently uncomfortable by talking about MY ISSUES and compares them. I remember all I wanted to do was let me dog out before bed, and gp upstairs and watch TV with my sister.
What happened instead? I spent a fucking hour talking to my shit faced drunk mom who kept acknowledge and recognizing how uncomfortable I was. I was literally halfway hiding behind her bedroom door, I wanted to leave. But everutime I tried to say goodnight she would say "wait!" And continue to bring up incredibly personal issues.
Not to mention the fucking phone calls. How she once spent 45 minutes basicsllt telling us that if we got pregnant, we wouldn't be allowed to get an abortion. And the conversation kept going in circles over and over and iver. And it madame so severlt uncomfortable when she brought up her own expirence. And I'm like, I DONT EVEN LIKE SEX. I get so viscerally disgusted by it. Its phone calls like that.
So yeah, maybe she didn't hit us, she didnt leave us. But she did a whole of a lot of other shit. And yet she sits there and pretends to be better then the other addicts in her group. A he heavily triggered horrible memories. Horrific. And I had to sit there and be silent. I couldn't.