My mother and I don't have nor have we ever had a typical relationship that a mother and son should have. Since I was a baby, she was very abusive and neglectful to me, she would never hold or change me, just let me cry, cry and cry. As I got older, my brother, sister and I would fight like all siblings do, but when this happened, my mother always took their side on everything and without even hearing my side of the story. Sad to say, but my parents hardly showed me any kind of support or gave me any love - most of the time when they gave me any attention, it was to tell me that I was "weak", or "a snob", and as a running joke in our house; they would say put "your nose down." I was called "a fag" by them and told "I am being too oversensitive and emotional". Looking back on all the name-calling that I received from my brother and sister, I cannot help to think they heard all of this from my mother and thought it was ok. Oversensitive? Try living these actions and behaviours daily!
Being the middle child of three, I was forced to be the responsible one, I would have to look after my older mischievous older brother, and sometimes my sister when my parents were always away, (when they did go out most times, my brother and I were never invited to go, we were to sent to town or outside to play and most times locked out of the house until they came back. When allowed in the house when they were gone, it was always my responsibility to clean the house, to do the dishes, and vacuum. The other two did not have to do any chores, the only thing they did was constantly torment me. There were many times that I would get slapped/beat around if I questioned why they did not have to do chores, or why my brother did not have to play with my younger sister all the time like I was required to.
In my teens, I remember having an ingrown toenail and instead of my mother or father taking me to the hospital to make it better and to ease the pain, my mother used to step on my foot and make my ingrown toe bleed as a form of punishment, and as a form of dominating me, then she would laugh about it. My foot used to ooze puss and bleed daily - I cannot count how many times or how many socks I went through. This happened pretty much daily, there was a time I thought I was going to lose my toe because of her stepping on my foot 10+ times a day and making it bleed as a cruel punishment. If it were not for my grandmother, I don't think I would be alive. She rescued me in so many ways...
There were several times that I would call my grandmother in another city, and tell her how I was being treated. I needed protecting, but not knowing where to turn, I would call my grandmother and she would call her daughter to see why she was doing what she was doing, these calls helped temporarily, but not for long, as this treatment against me, happened pretty much daily.
In my teen years, my mother and I used to fistfight on a daily basis, it would usually start before breakfast, or just before going out the door for school. When things got out of control, I would tell her, "I was going to call my grandmother and tell her how I was being treated", well as you can image how well she took this news. This would make her even angrier than she currently was, as she knew her mother would be calling and ask what was going on.
I remember this one morning like it was yesterday... she attempted to punch me yet again because of something she said, or did, but this time, I managed to escape her before landing a punch as she was guarding the front door of the house and not allowing me to leave, she got in her car and she chased me down the road. I was trying to run to a payphone for my daily telephone call with my grandmother. She followed very closely behind me, and in fact, she struck me with the car throwing me into the ditch. I don't know why I never called the police on her, I guess I was scared of the repercussions.
Another incident, that I recall was the two of us fighting one morning before the school bus came to pick me up. This morning she punched me so hard that I flew over the deep freeze and in an effort to escape and to get out of her reach, I pushed her, maybe even punched her because I recall her falling over the stand-alone radio/cassette player that sat on a shelf. Needless to say, these behaviours towards me were almost daily and being a young man twenty plus years ago, you were supposed to be "tough" and "take it like a man - never cry or show emotion." So that is exactly what I did. None of my class mates ever knew that I was being bullied by my mother. I went to school on a daily basis as an abused child. The funny thing is, I guess back then it was faux pas to have your extended family help you, as they were all aware of the abuse, but no one said a thing, or tried to help.
This was my day to day interactions with my mother, imagine growing up in an abusive, non-loving household, while always being ridiculed, beat on, and being made fun of? This was my reality until my grandmother came to town and I moved out.