The day my niece was born, my mom had asked me to wake her up so that she could be there after the birth.
Apparently, me actually doing what she asked me to do turned out to be a grave insult.
She ended up yelling and screaming at me, which triggered me, so I started yelling and screaming at her, and then she hit me with the only thing she could think of to actually hurt me.
See, from before I get into that, I've got to explain that from the time I was 15 until I graduated high school at 17, my mom and my stepdad essentially locked me in my room and only let me out for punishment, which was digging up stumps in the backyard or picking up a rock from one pile and hauling it to another pile, picking up a different rock from that pile, hauling that one to the third pile, back and forth. for eight to ten hours a day, And for going to school, just enough to prevent CPS from being called on them.
There was also a healthy dose of corporal punishment on top of that, being beaten for half an hour or longer for the smallest infraction.
It really messed with my head because I honestly thought like at some point they would come to their senses and realize how absurd the entire thing was and apologize and they never fucking did.
Anyway, now that we've got the groundwork in place, my mom decided she would say the thing that she could think of to hurt me, which was to tell me that her mother, my evil grandmother, had convinced her to do all of those things because otherwise no one would ever love me.
And why is it that otherwise no one would ever love me?
because I'm not white
My mom had shamed the entire family by marrying a Native American and giving birth to his child, And my grandmother, who is evil for multiple reasons, and I'll be glad to go into those, cause may she rot in piss, was a terrible person, had decided that the only way to cleanse the family of the stain of my existence was to psychologically induce my own mother into tormenting me in every single possible way she could.
And so every single time I think about all the opportunities I missed out on and all the times my mom wasn't there for me and all of the times that I was neglected and abused throughout my entire childhood, it all rolls back to my grandmother being a racist cunt, and my mother somehow not realizing that for what it was, and just being a good little flying monkey and doing whatever her mother told her to do with her own fucking child.
So yeah, I was abused because my grandmother is racist, and I didn't find out about that until I was 23 years old.
I'm so sorry this happened to you. You mentioned that the naivite of a child helped you not remembering this as so bad.
I would like to suggest as kindly as possible you attend therapy for a while to process this out of sheer self love.
You didn't deserve this and you sure as hell don't deserve the invisible wounds that this presumably left. You deserve life and love and please love yourself and your chocolate skin. :)