Part of Christmas Eve was spent sleeping on the bathroom floor because my mother insisted she'd share the bed my brother and I had and I couldn't bare the idea, even though I don't think she'd sexually abuse me (again). She would wait until we were almost asleep and then wake us up with yelling.
Cruel words fire out of her twisted mouth, as she leers over my stepfather who kept his eyes shut. I grab my brother and ran into the bedroom. I'm still not strong enough to hold the door shut. My brother begs me to open it as her fists pummelled the door. He wants Mummy back. He wants nobody to get hurt.
He puts himself out there to stop it, shaking as hard I do. I covered my head with my hands. I cannot protect him. I have failed. I am a failure.
We attempt to comfort each other later that night. But we barely hug. If I hug him, I might cry more and I might be heard. I wish I could stop shaking enough to save him.
Another night I attempt to push her out of my room.
The shouting continues. It starts in the mornings and tapers off and then starts up again.
My stepfather calls her a horrible woman. Tells her she uses us as pawns.
My mother will later pretend nothing has happened, just as she has before.
I argue back for the first time in years. I want her to hurt, but ultimately she will hurt me more. I want to show my brother that he shouldn't copy that behaviour.
Later, I manage to keep my brother in our room by pointing out that "If anything does happen [stepfather] is stronger than either of us." I stare up at the ceiling, waiting for the shouting to end. He later asks me if he can leave to go to the toilet. I feel cruel because I have detained him.
My mother doesn't want to ski, she doesn't want to stay behind and she doesn't want to be alone. She sleeps peacefully and then jumps up and begins her shouting tirade. My brother was getting his shoes but now feels compelled to stay. I grab him but realise he doesn't have his shoes. I try to get his shoes but my mother launches herself towards me and I put him down quickly. She grabs my hair and the back of my coat - though it doesn't hurt - and shoves me towards the fridge. My stepfather must have stepped in because I didn't hit the fridge.
We leave my brother behind because he won't come, go to meet up with friends. I am ill and worried. His phone is turned off so my mother can't get through to him because she called and yelled down the phone. She claimed they had no money (though she did) and that we were being cruel to my brother. I had to deal with the rude text messages because my stepfather was driving.
My brother showed me the missing part of her phone case, broken from where she had thrown it against the wall.
We go out for dinner with my stepfather's friends and she transforms herself into the perfect mother.
I cannot split 'Mummy' and 'The Mother' - named so after I read that someone abused did that with theirs many years ago, though I do not remember its title - without knowing what I am doing. I have recently made an attempt to merge them. I now see everything my mother does as a plot to keep me quiet.
I tell my mother of her shouting and how I used to fear coming home (when I was younger and things were worse), how I wasn't allowed to smile. I do not mention that one occasion she sexually abused me, nor how she used to laugh when her ex-boyfriend used to sexually abuse me or the dozens of other things. She tells me my memories are warped and that she is not a superhuman. She asks me, still shouting, what I want from her, but I do not say because I can never have what I want.
You cannot change who people are. - My mother
She asked me if I forgave her, though she didn't accept my memories or apologise. I told her "No." She tells me I can talk to her, strokes my cheek and tells me she loves me. She asks if I love her, I say I do but I cannot trust her.
She returned to her shouting tirade the next morning. To her mocking and snide comments.
I am terrified that she will become more angry when social services question her. I am filled with doubt about speaking out. Things aren't so bad now. I am mostly haunted by my dreams, my fears and memories.
For reference, I have been sexually, emotionally, and physically abused as well as neglected inthe past. I know this post probably seems as though nothing has happened. This post covers different times of day and different days altogether. Nor is it exhaustive.
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