I approached your Mother Rage story today with trepidation and also a great hope to laugh my head off.
I would like to meet “Liem” whose escapade losing his sister — and almost his life— reminded me the most of my own.
I think there are *categories* of parent threats and insults! When the child is baby, and presumably can’t understand the words being invoked, it’s very popular to have adult rages along the lines of “I wish you were dead.” True, baby doesn’t know— but then baby grows up and certain adults who bore witness in the old days decide to tell you, “This happened.”
The single-digit kid years are often filled with threats that the child can’t quite grasp, isn’t sure if it could be TRUE. Everything from “Santa Claus isn’t coming,” “No supper for you,” to “I’ll kill you if we can’t find your sister.”
And lots of physical punishment threats : “I’ll tan your hide if . . . “
Teenage years get more sophisticated. The question of sexuality and leaving home, what the kid is going to do with their lives, opens up a big territory of fireworks. Lies/secrets on both sides are uncovered and plundered for ammunition. Vocabulary and insinuation skyrocket, and the teenager fights back, often scoring hits.
It’s ugly out there, people! Forgiveness and apology is the dream you hope to wake to.
My mom just helped me through top surgery recovery, which was beautiful and also her reparations for calling me out of the blue in college to demand an answer to: "WHERE DID YOUR BOOBS GO?!"
Nicest: She does strive to be nice. She always says “I love you,” as incapacitated as she is by her own lack of understanding what that is. As much as she strives to be nice, it never rings true as when she’s kind. She really worked overtime to make sure I stayed on grade level and she taught me how to be a diplomat. She took me, my bully and his mom to McDonald’s to mediate after he threw Godzilla toys at me in kindergarten. It worked, and I remember that to this day.
Worst: ignoring my CSA at the hands of her father is more of an unspoken thing, but spoken is definitely senior of high school during a fight about my sexuality. I was downstairs, she was at the top, she said “Fine, I hope you get AIDS and die.” Says more about her than about me, of course, but that’ll stay with you.
This is better than therapy!
I approached your Mother Rage story today with trepidation and also a great hope to laugh my head off.
I would like to meet “Liem” whose escapade losing his sister — and almost his life— reminded me the most of my own.
I think there are *categories* of parent threats and insults! When the child is baby, and presumably can’t understand the words being invoked, it’s very popular to have adult rages along the lines of “I wish you were dead.” True, baby doesn’t know— but then baby grows up and certain adults who bore witness in the old days decide to tell you, “This happened.”
The single-digit kid years are often filled with threats that the child can’t quite grasp, isn’t sure if it could be TRUE. Everything from “Santa Claus isn’t coming,” “No supper for you,” to “I’ll kill you if we can’t find your sister.”
And lots of physical punishment threats : “I’ll tan your hide if . . . “
Teenage years get more sophisticated. The question of sexuality and leaving home, what the kid is going to do with their lives, opens up a big territory of fireworks. Lies/secrets on both sides are uncovered and plundered for ammunition. Vocabulary and insinuation skyrocket, and the teenager fights back, often scoring hits.
It’s ugly out there, people! Forgiveness and apology is the dream you hope to wake to.
My mom just helped me through top surgery recovery, which was beautiful and also her reparations for calling me out of the blue in college to demand an answer to: "WHERE DID YOUR BOOBS GO?!"
Nicest: She does strive to be nice. She always says “I love you,” as incapacitated as she is by her own lack of understanding what that is. As much as she strives to be nice, it never rings true as when she’s kind. She really worked overtime to make sure I stayed on grade level and she taught me how to be a diplomat. She took me, my bully and his mom to McDonald’s to mediate after he threw Godzilla toys at me in kindergarten. It worked, and I remember that to this day.
Worst: ignoring my CSA at the hands of her father is more of an unspoken thing, but spoken is definitely senior of high school during a fight about my sexuality. I was downstairs, she was at the top, she said “Fine, I hope you get AIDS and die.” Says more about her than about me, of course, but that’ll stay with you.