A
female
age
,
*Amethyst
writes:This is my story...I am the eldest sister of Bluegem and whiteopal who have both recently posted letters on Dear Cupid, and I endorse everything they say about the verbal and physical abuse we suffered when growing up. This is only a little of the horror that was my earlier life, which I felt I had to share after my sisters' courage in requesting help on this site. I'm afraid I've made this rather long and disjointed, but I'm still feeling angry and upset today at the memories as they come flooding back....so I will just talk about incidences as they come into my head:A particular incident happened one Mothering Sunday when we were young, and I had taken my sister to pick primroses from nearby woodland to make a posy to give to my mother. I thought this would please her....she was never pleased at anything I did, but I never stopped trying! (How could any mother not be pleased with a gift from her children?) Unfortunately we got our shoes wet and as I was the eldest, 'I should have known better' and was promised the biggest hiding of my life...(she always 'promised' me hidings before actually giving, as though the anticipation gave her some perverse pleasure) This time my mother grabbed the back of my hair and repeatedly banged my head into a cupboard door causing a deep gash. I had to go to hospital as the bleeding wouldn't stop. I'd shut myself in the toilet and used the pages of my favourite children's book to try and mop up the blood....I knew if I made a mess, I would get yet another beating. I had been given strict instructions not to tell anyone how this injury happened...my mother didn't even come to the hospital with me and it was a three mile walk! I still frequently get bad headaches in this area of my head today.The violence was awful, I never knew when the next beating was coming...or in most cases, why. I just remember her face turning red and angry with hatred....(I often used to wonder how such a normally attractive woman could look so ugly at these times) She'd shake me so hard, and thrash me with a leather buckle belt until sometimes I'd 'play dead' hoping she'd leave me alone. Once I remember her actually stepping over me as I lay on our tiled floor. When I knew she was coming at me, I'd put my hands over my head....I often did this later in life if someone innocently lifted their hand........I think it must have been through habit. A friend laughed once, but cried when I told her why I did this. She also would frequently say 'just wait until your father comes home' and would make me wait in our bedroom. I would lie there terrified, but I have no idea why as Dad never laid a finger on me....he'd just say 'what's going on here then?' and tell me to go, but not to let my mother know that he hadn't punished me. My father kept a low profile...he wasn't exactly loving, but he never laid a hand on me, someone once told me he didn't care enough to bother, but when I think about it now, I believe he was afraid of what my mother would do if he showed me any affection. The one good thing he had to say about me was when one morning we were sitting at the breakfast table, he walked behind my chair and lifted my thick and very long, heavy hair (my only redeeming feature) and commented 'this child has nice hair'. When I returned home from school at the end of that day, my mother plaited my hair, cut the plait as short as she could leaving my hair spiky and uneven, and made me hold it aloft like a trophy so she could take a photo ......As I was already wearing round glasses with wires around my ears and teeth braces, I wasn't exactly a beauty, but I HATED HER FOR THAT!..... and STILL DO!She'd also frequently say to me 'You're such a plain child' Well I was! She MADE me plain and seemed to delight in it.My father always adored my one sister......she was blonde and pretty, and she went to Grammar School, which I didn't. He was so proud of her. I'd failed my 11+ but was given the opportunity to re-sit 12 months later as I had done well in my first year in Secondary School. I waited in the headmaster's office for my mother's telephone call to confirm I could sit the exam, but she didn't ring, and when I got home that evening and asked why not, she said she didn't want me to go to Grammar School. She said she'd rather I did well in Secondary School than scrape along the bottom in the Grammar School. I was gutted as I so wanted the best education I could possibly have.......I was bright and would never have 'scraped' along....I had big ideas for myself!.... and would have done well. Dad was always disappointed in me......my lack of education being his main disappointment. I could never understand why he didn't seem to have any input into the decision making of my education. We girls were constantly hungry (I don't really know why as my mother always seemed able to buy the best food for herself and Dad) and she always had one of us collect every Sunday 4 x quarters of her favourite sweets from Candy Shop in town, which she'd hide once she'd weighed them to check they were all there. I remember incurring her wrath when I'd been asked to pick up a loaf of bread on my way home from school......three miles is a long way when you are small and hungry.....and by the time I got home the crust was hollow as I'd picked out all of the bread from the inside! Often I had to wear second-hand clothes. To the age of 11, I had to wear my older male cousins clothes, including a full Rupert the Bear outfit to school.......I was teased unmercifully and bullied frequently. From age of 12, I worked evenings after school and all day Saturdays, so was able to buy my own clothes, shoes, and toiletries. I also made some of my clothes and my closest friend would give me her cast offs, but at least they were up to date and I no longer had to feel humiliated!My mother never did come to any of my school functions, not even prize-giving days....except for the prize-giving in my final year. My uncle, her brother, had come to stay and couldn't understand that she'd no intention of attending, and he nagged her until I think he made her feel guilty......as 'he was coming anyway'. I was bright and had done well, collecting end of year prizes for 5 subjects. No sooner had I returned to my seat after receiving a prize, then I was called again. Probably for the first time in my life, I felt very proud.......Mother was heard to tell someone later 'I never knew she had it in her!'.........If she'd only bothered to find out! She was always putting me down, calling me 'stupid' (she actually MADE me feel stupid and unworthy). I now know that I was far from stupid!I suppose I was always trying to win my mother's affection/approval, but never did. Of course, you can't buy love. I often think of the time when I'd saved hard for the huge Christmas gift box of Cussons in Boots window, it (I thought) was very plush and beautiful with wrapped bars of soap, bottles of lotions etc and it smelled wonderful.....all nestled in orange satin with a huge satin bow. I'd asked the shop to put it away for me whilst I paid a little off each Saturday. Finally I'd paid the final instalment and took it home to gift wrap. On Christmas morning I could barely contain my excitement knowing that my mother had to be pleased with my lovely gift to her. She finally opened it and looked in disgust at the contents, then hurled it across the room to me angrily, muttering 'Cussons, Cussons', she knows I don't like Cussons'! My sisters also still remember this today.....I guess it really got to us all.She had many love affairs with various neighbours.....even the postman! (I actually walked in on them cuddling when I was 9 years old).....it was the one and only time she ever called e 'pet', the only word of endearment I ever heard from her! These affairs caused problems for myself and sisters as some of our friends were the children of those neighbours, and they knew what was going on. We'd cower under our bedcovers at night trying to shut out the noise of the rows between my mother and father.Her most recent act of malice was when my father died and left me some money in his Will. She told me that his intention had been to cut me out of his will, but he'd not got around to it before he died, and that she was to have a share in it (they'd already been divorced 25 years and no financial settlement was due to her) Even now I often cry at this as I'll never know for sure whether or not Dad was considering leaving me out.....I couldn't see why as he'd always seemed to treat us all pretty much the same. Shortly after Dad's death, I put the money he left me towards a house for my mother to live in. She has been there seven years now and could be there another ten easily. I don't think I will ever be able to make peace with my mother, but I feel I have done my bit in being as good a daughter to her as I was able, it's very difficult to be the best possible daughter to a mother who treated me as nothing but a punchbag.... and something to be looked down on. I am now 61 but I still feel there is a battered, bruised and very sad little girl inside me. Four years ago, I went for a course of hypnotherapy with a well-known local lady. In the final session she took me back into my early childhood, where I saw a little girl holding hands with her Daddy and I wept as I recognised her and saw just how pretty she was...she was not plain at all!.....and her Daddy obviously loved her. I awoke from my trance with tears streaming down my face, and told my therapist what I'd seen, and that I thought the little girl was me at around the age of four. She confirmed that I was that little girl, and that I should acknowledge her, and love and cuddle her. Sometimes I wrap my arms around myself now and think of that little 4 year old, and I think it helps.I think it's time I mentioned my brother.......Dad's much longed-for son who was born when I was 10 yrs old. I adored him.... and still do. My mother idolised him....she still does..........he could do nothing wrong in her eyes and wanted for nothing.......the best clothes, good food, and the best education, but unfortunately, he and Dad were far from close. I think it's because my mother used to dress him up in girls' clothes when he was small and used to call him by a girl's name. My father had wanted a son he could share his favourite sports with, but my brother was not at all interested in 'boys' games. Dad felt he'd gained another daughter and was bitterly disappointed.When my brother came out in his twenties, that was the final straw as far as my father was concerned. He found it difficult to acknowledge he even had a son....... and would never talk about the fact he was gay.........Dad was very much a 'man's man' and he was was terrified his friends would find out. He'd always thought my brother was a 'poof' and blamed my Mother. My mother is 85 years old, and most people think of her as a very sweet old lady. She goes to Church every Sunday and helps with local charities, but I feel she still looks at me as though she would love to give me a good slap (her anger is never very far from the surface) and is still frequently putting me down to this day. This is why I only visit her rarely, and make it as short a stay as possible. She says I should spend more time with her and help her with the gardening etc, but I just can't. I have to pluck up courage as it is, and often talk myself out of going.If anyone out there has any advice for me, I'd be extremely grateful.
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female
reader, maverick494  +, writes (8 November 2011):
Thank you for sharing this tragic story about your childhood. I will never for the life of me understand such cruelty and disregard in human beings. My grandmother once told me about her time in a japanese concentration camp, how the nicest guards were taken away and when they came back they returned as the most cruel of all. I guess where there is goodness, cruelty also has to exist but what saddens me the most is that you never once got the affection you deserved.
Luckily you have become a beautiful person both inside and out. It's just bitter that you had to deal with such a horrible past. The fact you even bought your mother (using that term loosely, as a mother in my opinion is someone who cares for their child) is just....wow. I would never be able to do that. I have the utmost respect and admiration for the way you carry yourself. I would probably have turned into a black hole in your place.
A
female
reader, Moo's Mum  +, writes (8 November 2011):
 Your father is as much to blame for this situation as your mother. He has sat back and done nothing about your mother's abuse in fact he has removed himself from the situation because he was too gutless to do anything about it. This is just as damaging and abusive as your mother's actions. You three sisters must stick together like glue and support each other in dealing with the horror that is your parents.
Love to all three of you! None of you deserved to be treated like this.
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A
female
reader, Abella +, writes (8 November 2011):
 To Amethyst, BlueGem and WhiteOpal
You all have my total support. I will look forward to the books when it comes out
Some women are just not cut out to make good Moms.
I am so glad the three of you have found DearCupid and are able to support each other.
Your accounts are riveting.
My best wishes to all of you,
Regards'
Abella
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A
female
reader, whiteopal +, writes (7 November 2011):
I am still terrified of our motherI am the youngest sister of amethyst and bluegem and would like to say that there are no words in our english vocabulary that could begin to describe the woman our mother was and still is. I can remember a catologue of such horrific incidences relating to my childhood. So I have now begun to write my first proper autobiography. It will mean that I will have to relive many terrifying memories but I want to do this for myself, amethyst and bluegem. I can remember mother hitting me, not for being naughty, but for things like eg: when my very posh cousins came to stay. We lived on a farm and attended a local state school and they lived in cities and went to private schools. After they had gone, mother would beat me for not being educated like them and making out I was stupid. She made me learn the piano and every time I made a slight mistake she slapped me hard repeatedly across my face and head. I was so terrified that I kept making mistakes through fear and so the slapping would continue. She stood over me whilst I did homework and kept beating me if I didn't know the answers to my sums. One morning I came downstairs to the usual bowl of porridge and it was mothers birthday. She demanded to know where her present was. I was only about seven or eight and I didn't have money nor access to shops to buy presents even though I wished her H.B. She ordered me not to bother coming home from school if I hadn't got her a present. Bluegem was with me at the time. I had to steal from a fellow pupil to buy her something. All the way home I was terrified of the beating I'd get as the gift would probably be wrong as usual. When dad bought her chocolates she'd throw them back in his face sniping 'you know I can't stand milk tray' We used to get sent to our room sobbing after a beating and I can remember the cold bare lino and frost on the window. I was often cold, hungry and frightened. When I was ten years old, my eldest sister amethyst who was not quite fifeteen at the time, brought home her new boyfriend. He was twenty one and almost from day one he took an unhealthy interest in me. As I was never loved by either parent, I misunderstood this interest as he put it 'caring for his baby sis' Of course later, around the age of 12 and 13 I wallowed in the fact that somebody cared about me especially as I was an adolescent and my hormones were all over the place. But he took advantage of the situation as I was often home alone. He took it upon himself to visit regularly on his own to make sure I was 'alright'. Because my mother was abusive and my father didn't care and was always either out working, visiting his family or golfing, I had no one to tell and even if I did it would be, as usual, 'my fault'. I wasn't really close to amethyst at this time so wasn't able to confide in her and as I didn't know what affection was, I mistook this interest as probably normal. I hated him and I hated his visits. But I would never blame amethyst for his behaviour as I believe she knew nothing of this and was forced to leave him eventually anyway due to his violence towards her. I blame my mother for not being there for me emotionally. I used to frequently urinate myself around the age of 13 til 15. One day I came home from school and mother dragged me toward the kitchen sink. She showed me the extra wash line that she put up outside. 'You stink and from now on that is your line for your dirty stinking knickers; don't you dare put your filthy clothes anywhere near ours'. I simply thought, 'poor woman having to put up with me and my disgusting body'. I have only merely touched on one or two incidences but there are so many many more. Luckily, I live 30 miles away from my mother so I don't see alot of her but a few years ago when I arrived home from work she left a message logged in my house phone to say that she was in town and may drop by my home to visit. I immediately locked the doors, poured myself a glass of wine and hid in a cupboard. I am in my 50s and my very active mother is in her 80s yet I was still terrified. After analising my behaviour, I finally dialled NSPCC. They were sympathetic but said it was my word against all perpetrators if I wished to report incidences so they put me in touch with NAPAC. National Association for People Abused in Childhood. Now I have begun to write my story dedicating it to amethyst and bluegem. Incidentally, my life today at the age of 57 is plagued by anxiety attacks and depression. Now I can see why!! Whiteopal
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A
female
reader, anonymous, writes (5 November 2011): I dont know any of you but I admire how strong you must be to contain and manage this without seeking revenge. I couldnt.
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A
female
reader, anonymous, writes (5 November 2011): As a fellow survivor, I can honestly say I understand. My mother was more emotionally manipulative on top of all that. but I understand. I wish I could tell you what to do, but all I can say is just know you are not alone- I hope that gives you some solace.
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A
male
reader, Jmtmj  +, writes (5 November 2011):
 My advice... write a book.
Frankly, I'd be very surprised if she didn't have a personality disorder, something like bi-polar or BPD. Either way I think its safe to assume that you're never going to get the love and approval that you've craved for so long from her.
Which is why I suggest writing a book. You clearly need to vent and for some reason it sounds like reliving it, (whilst painful), is finally at a stage where you can be more objective about things. Maybe you'll come to a realization or get something rewarding out of it if your siblings all pool your stories together? It takes a good writer to turn a tragedy into something beautiful... given that I got a bit misty eyed reading this, I think you've definitely got that talent.
As for what to do about your mother... tell her to do her own damn gardening.
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A
male
reader, anonymous, writes (5 November 2011): why aren't you angry?Leave this harpie nothing. Forgive her and then cut her out completely.In all the years you've supposedly lived, you've never once stood up for yourself?And you understand hypnotherapy and memory regression is highly unreliable?
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A
female
reader, uroboros +, writes (5 November 2011):
your mother was wrong, don't let people think she's a nice old lady. tell everyone what she did to you!i don't know if you have kids bu if you do, tell them as well.for your own sake, don't support her in any way, don't visit her, don't help, never give her money.she clearly deserved to die alone.you seem a sensitive personwhat you've been through made you strong. take care!!
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A
female
reader, fi_the_tree +, writes (5 November 2011):
 I admire you for your bravery. You have just shared something truly painful with a lot of people, that takes so much courage! Well Done!!!
Keep seeking therapy if you can, as this will help you further. When it comes to your father, take solace in the fact that he didn't beat you either (i think too many children out there have 2 abusive parents, not just 1!) he showed you compassion and said that your hair was nice. Try to remember the good things about him as much as you can.
Your mother doesn't deserve anything from you or your siblings to be perfectly honest! She favours your brother, and always has, it's utterly despicable!!! Even now, you are still suffering because of her with your headaches and those vile memories of your childhood. I just hope that you and your other siblings provide a support network for each other as and when you can. You are not alone in this.
I hope that some people read this and just think about how meaningless their problems actually are compared to the horror you have been put through for all these years. You would make a great advocate for these issues in today's society, you could help other children who have been through similar experiences.
You have come out of this, you survived and i admire you so much for it. As hard as it must have been for you, i thank you for sharing your story with us, and wish you all the best for the future xx
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A
female
reader, Moo's Mum +, writes (4 November 2011):
Your mother sounds like a very sick person. You are so not to blame for anything that happened to you in your childhood.
Just realise you had to misfortune to be the daughter of a person incapable of loving anyone including herself. In a way the woman is to be pityed she is a pathetic person.
Do not feel guilty for not wanting to go and see her she's a nightmare. I can't believe you bought her a house!
You should read a book called Fallen Leaves it's a similar story to yours and the author realised in the end she never could have changed what happened to her and that she was not to blame for any of it.
All my love to you!
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