In order to be a mother you have to possess certain qualities. You have to be understanding, compassionate, nurturing, and be your child’s biggest cheerleader in life. Just because you open your legs and give birth doesn’t make you a mother. She gave birth to me but was in no way a mother.

I was her modern day Cinderella, it was a name even my great aunt had given me.I couldn’t breath for 5 minutes without her yelling my name. I was born to be her personal servant. I hated my life, waking up was pure hell. But, there was nowhere else I could go.

She put that fear in me from the time I was a little girl. If I didn’t do something she wanted or perhaps I did something she didn’t like she used any emotional abuse she could. My mom loved to see me beg and cry. One of her favorite ways to emotionally torture me was to pretend like she was calling children services. She would tell them to come pick me up, that she was done with me and didn’t want me living there anymore. That I didn’t listen and she just couldn’t handle me anymore.

I would cry and beg for her not to make me go. She would tell me to go pack my bags that they were on the way to pick me up. I would say, “No please I love you I’m sorry! I promise I’ll be good, please I’ll do anything you want.”. She will continue antagonizing me just enjoying seeing me cry and beg. She would list all the ridiculous reasons she was tired of me. Looking back I realized just how sick and mentally messed up she was as a person, because the things that she did to me no normal person would do.

I would be forced to sit on her back and brush her hair until she fell asleep on the couch. I hated doing it, but I knew if I didn’t the emotional and mental abuse would start. So I would sit and brush and brush, and as soon as I heard her snore I would try to sneak away. I would slowly try to stand up and slide off her back and on to the floor. Sometimes I was lucky enough to get away, other times she would immediately wake up and say “Where are you going, I’m not asleep yet.”. I hated it, I wished someone else was my mother.

I was forced to make her bath water, I would have to go upstairs run the water and let her know when it was halfway full. Then I would have to sit on the stairs outside of the bathroom and talk to her until she was done with her bath. Most times I would have to run back downstairs and get her a towel from the dryer, God forbid she even made sure she had one. Then again I was the one that had to do all the laundry.

Then there were the days where I had to clean her feet. I had to bring out a bucket of hot water while she soaked her callous crusted feet. I would then have to take a butter knife and scrape all the dead skin off her heels, cut her toenails and clean the bucket out. The sad thing is I had to pretend like I wanted to do it for her, because if I didn’t I would be verbally and emotionally abused. Then the threats of children’s services would start.

This was from the time I was a child until I was a teenager. It was the most disgusting normalcy anyone could have. And it doesn’t even stop here. These are the little things that were done, I haven’t even gotten to the major.

From being hung over a banister, thrown outside with no shoes or coat in the middle of winter, and left in the middle of the woods in Pennsylvania, there are so many more TRUE stories that I will be telling.

What I find a little comical, is the fact that she likes to deny everything. She tells everybody that I’m mentally ill and I make up these lies about her. Sad thing is, I seen her abuse my younger sister too. We have about 19 years in between us, many times I just wanted to pick her up and run. Wishing I could save her from the torture that I experienced.

For now, just as I did at that age, she continues to deny and cover for our mother. But in time, she too will speak the truth. She will realize that her emotional trauma is caused by an abusive narcissistic mother just as I have. And she will no longer be afraid.

Shannon ❤️