No Wonder Your Dad Never Liked You
I was abused by both my mother and father. They were both emotionally abusive, but my father was neglectful as well.
My parents divorced when I was 4 or 5, but I was too young to really be affected by it. My father was the first to start the abuse. I guess only seeing him every other week drove a wedge in our relationship. He would first start yelling at my brother who, in his eyes, did everything wrong. It didn’t bother me at first, but as I got older I realized that parents aren't supposed to scream repeatedly at their kids until the veins in their faces bulge out.
That's when my dad started screaming at me. I could never do anything right; whether I was walking up the stairs or watching television, he always yelled. It eventually led to name-calling (though he never called me much more than "a pig"). He didn't just yell; he also neglected to give us food. My siblings and I would go to his house and the only thing there to eat was strawberry pop-tarts and the crumbs of stale chips. Dinner was horrible- we would never get to serve ourselves and we got one scoop of everything, nothing more. We'd always fight over food. My dad also threatened us a lot, broke a lot of promises, and beat me up for "walking up the stairs too loudly."
Then he went overseas, and we communicated over email (which, at first, went well). However, my mom and my stepmother started a fight over Christmas, and I got involved. Then my dad yelled at me for getting involved because it apparently "wasn't my place" to say anything. I got upset and tried to tell him how badly it hurt me when he chose his wife over me, and how much it hurt to see him completely disregard my feelings. But he told me I was wrong and should get my mouth washed out with soap. All and all, our relationship was and still is ruined, and although we are on speaking terms I can't look at him without feeling sick.
My mother started her abuse last May. It wasn't too bad at first; it was just arguing and yelling and her favoring my other siblings, but then it escalated. You see, I depended on my mother more than most simply because I was still broken from my dad's abuse so I leaned on her for support. However, I soon realized my mistake.
While on a "family" vacation to Pennsylvania we went to the water park at Dorney Park. My mother and I got into a fight because I got mad at her for leaving me in the noon sun for a half hour with my cousin, (with NO shade- and I wasn't aloud to leave that spot). Well, after I told her how upset I was, my mother asked me if I wanted to get smacked for disrespecting her in public. I said no and walked off to calm down. After five minutes, my mother finds me, grabs my face, says "how dare you disrespect me and not look at me when I talk to you!" She then proceeded to call me every name in the book-b*tch, a**hole, stupid, fat, selfish, psycho, jerk. She also started smacking me in front of everybody. But it didn't really compare to the pain I felt when she told me, "no wonder your dad never liked you."
After that, I went into a shell. The rest of the summer was a blur to me. She didn't really do much after that aside from the occasional violent streaks and bouts of extreme ranting and raving. However, she did begin ignoring me. I hate being ignored. I would rather be yelled at than ignored simply because when someone yells at me, I feel like at least they care. When I'm ignored, I feel unwanted. My mom knows this but it didn't stop her. She would just stop talking to me. When I am telling a story, I see in her eyes that after five minutes she stops listening, and she tells me all the time that she doesn't listen. She told me that she doesn't listen because I talk too loud and too much. However, she said "I cherish everything your brother and sister say because they don't talk much".
I look back and realize that I didn't have it that bad; at least I wasn't beaten to a bloody pulp or sexually assaulted, right? But it doesn't make the effects seem any less damaging. As a result, I have extreme trust issues. Very few people know about any of the abuse. I also am very angry and suffer from extreme depression. The worst part about it is that I can’t cry anymore. I cried my heart out the last 6 years of my life, and now I can't even shed a single tear. On the bright side, I have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. He is my rock and without Him I know I would have killed myself a long time ago.