strawberrypinkloves
skinandbones
- Jan 25, 2025
- 26
I can't tell what my childhood was like. I want to romanticize it, to smell it like a rose and imagine it was something better. But I can't. I can barely remember what my parents were like. A part of me knows what they did to me was no thing a child should experience, but another part of me thinks it's part of growing up. I want to list these experiences. Are these normal? Are they abnormal? I don't know. I don't know what a healthy relationship with family would look like. For context, parents are immigrants. They've worked hard to get where they are, and a section of me feels guilty for even having the hint of the idea that they were even abusive to me. But another part is vindictive—hateful. I hate what they did to me. And I hate them. I find myself bursting into tears at night mourning what could have been. They aren't always like this, but it's enough times to make me wonder if there's something wrong with me. Here's a list of events, or things that happened to me.
I think what hurts me most are the excuses. My mom never defended me. I received the worst hand of his punishment. And I never got an "I'm sorry" ever. I think that hurts more than any beating ever could. Sometimes I doubt myself. I don't know if I'm wrong.
My father can be a good man sometimes. He's good with his friends, he can be in good moods, he can make jokes that are, albeit not very funny. But I don't know what's wrong with me. Is it my fault these things happened to me? Was I just a disobedient child? Until this day, I don't know how to accept if I was abused, or if it even was abuse. Maybe I'm just using "Western" terms to describe discipline. I just want someone to listen to me for once. What counts as abuse? Is someone still abusive if they have the capacity to be jubilant not even a second after, as if nothing happened? Is it all because of me? Did I go wrong? Was I a bad child? What is truly wrong with me?
- I distinctly don't remember hanging out with my dad ever. he'd get pizza for us every Friday, after elementary school, but that lasted for around a month. He's never hung out with me or my siblings since. Never have the words "I love you" came from his mouth directed at me or my siblings. Maybe those words are more foreign than the country we came from. But from what I see- he prefers hanging out at bars with his friends instead of his children.
- The bars. my dad would make me and my sister go to a popular bar with him. We spent our entire summer there. We'd be there until 12 sometimes. or until my mom would get off of work to pick us up. I remember getting yelled at for asking to leave to much, or threatened with a beating. I don't remember much. I just remember trying to get my dad's attention in someway and it never working. I can't remember if I was beat for it. I don't want to.
- He's threatened to kill my mom before, mid argument. I remember waking up to the sounds of them physically fighting, hiding under the covers of my blanket or trying to soothe my sibling. It happened in our old house, and the new one. I used to keep count, but now I'm scared to know what number that'll be. He made my mom's foot bleed pretty badly. I stumbled across a picture of the impact on her device. I couldn't look at it for long. it's a rare thing either, for him to get this sudden intense anger, an anger that is much more like an intense oceanic wave rather than a gradual build up. I accidentally scratched the walls with my instrument: he threatened to gauge my eyes out. My sibling made snide remarks: he threatened to beat them and yelled as he paraded the entire family out, saying that "he should never be disrespected again. I'll beat you if you pull this little stunt again" all in public. No one said anything. It hurt.
- I answered yes a little loudly to him in public, he threatened to beat me.I talked back when he wanted to sit at the head of the table, threatened to beat me. I said I wasn't finished washing the dishes, slapped me. My cousins still laugh at that event like it's a funny story. It hurts.
- The worst. I couldn't lock an important chest he had. He never taught me. He proceeded to beat me over it. I've never been beaten like that in my life. I was on the floor, he kicked me in the ribs. He punched my nose. I think it broke. I still have the bump in that area. I went upstairs. I thought I was going to die. I never did. I don't remember what words he said to me, but I felt like shit. Absolute shit.
I think what hurts me most are the excuses. My mom never defended me. I received the worst hand of his punishment. And I never got an "I'm sorry" ever. I think that hurts more than any beating ever could. Sometimes I doubt myself. I don't know if I'm wrong.
My father can be a good man sometimes. He's good with his friends, he can be in good moods, he can make jokes that are, albeit not very funny. But I don't know what's wrong with me. Is it my fault these things happened to me? Was I just a disobedient child? Until this day, I don't know how to accept if I was abused, or if it even was abuse. Maybe I'm just using "Western" terms to describe discipline. I just want someone to listen to me for once. What counts as abuse? Is someone still abusive if they have the capacity to be jubilant not even a second after, as if nothing happened? Is it all because of me? Did I go wrong? Was I a bad child? What is truly wrong with me?