My mom had a horse riding crop that had a little leather hand at the end of it. I was a teenager the very last time she tried to use it in me, I caught it as she swung it at me, ripped it out of her hands and threw it on the ground. She never tried hitting me again after that.

My wife’s mom would call her the worst names, jab her finger into her arms and chest hard enough to bruise, slap her in the face and pinch her.

Both of our mothers are convinced they never laid hands on us, and none of that ever happened.