This will be short, but for those not in the mood for a heavy posting, feel free to skip.
I was thinking about my childhood tonight, and in revisiting some events, I was able to find peace. Writing it down here may prove to be beneficial. It's funny how even after so many years, something can shed light on your life. The abuse I experienced as a child is not news to me. The subject was worked on for years in my conventional therapy, before I came to faith.
I was raised by a mother who verbally abused me since I was a toddler. Part of me feels guilty even writing this down. The abuse wasn't so much name calling, but intense, insane screaming and throwing things. I don't know how often, maybe once a week, sometimes less frequently. The first time I was about 2, and remember her screaming at the top of her lungs. I was disobeying her. This was beyond your normal, animated, Italian American mother type of screaming. It hurt the ears.
My father, also still alive, was the hold-it-all-in type. He did not stand up to my mother, or protect me. So, in short, I had a mother who did not soothe or comfort me, and a distant, somewhat weak father. I look back and believe both were afraid. Of the world.
It wasn't easy. And with no brothers or sisters, and both parents only children also, (no aunts, uncles, cousins), I kinda had to fend for myself. There were three grandparents, and three great aunts/uncles though.
One day a couple of years ago, my mother went off on a screaming fit at me, and threw some cookware around. I remember, she was upset because I encouraged her to join Weight Watchers again, with me. We didn't see it coming, husband and I, but he got a good taste of it that night. I couldn't tell if my ears shut down from the volume, or if it was the coping mechanism. Probably the latter. That was the usual thing I did.
This is also why cognitive therapy works for people like myself. (I will give a comprehensive post of the Gospel Therapy book material when I receive it.) To learn how to parent one's self, since those lessons and patterns were never fully achieved.
Somehow, God is using this memory to comfort me. This week I have had to deal with a client who is very similar to my mother. (I do believe my mom has a borderline personality disorder of some sort, and so does this woman.) That, and the devil just loves to hurt me this way, using any opportunity to sneak in where a rip already exists. (See this summer.) But luckily I have cog notes available. And I swear, it works so fast. I'm talking minutes.
Maybe this post might help someone? Who knows.
