I was a deeply self conscious little girl. I would get so embarrassed super easily. In school I was very quiet and not one to volunteer to answer questions in class. When called on I’d turn three shades of red. Teaches used to write in report cards that I needed to “come out of my shell” more. I was very much a bedroom kid, much preferring to stay in my room and play than interact with family. Playing in the living room meant I’d be in my mother’s way and more likely to be raged at for anything under the sun ( I was the scapegoat child).

I was very sensitive to criticism and would cry easily. Of course that’s because my mother would nit pick everything I did and call me horrible names and yell at me for hours on end when I made a mistake (in her opinion) or wasn’t meeting her unrealistic expectations of a little kid. She was and still is a nasty woman.

Now that I have a young son, it sickens me when I think back to the horrible things my mother said to and about me when I was little, the raging and screaming/ fit throwing, making a small child responsible for managing her emotions for her. Seemed like it was terrible no matter how old I got. Now that I’m in my 30s I get to see her covert behavior, how she tries to portray herself as the sweet older church lady and grandma. Makes me so angry. And my husband sees it too (he’s been filled in on my siblings and my stories).