I remember...

the first time I used reverse psychology without even realizing it. Or maybe that isn't the correct term. Maybe it was clever distraction. I am unsure.

I was a child. Young. Probably around five or six years old. My mother (who wasn't a good mother and that's being polite) was angry at me for some reason as she usually was. I was out to eat at Friendly's I believe with her, my Dad, and I think Mamu (my grandmother on my Mom's side). I was acting like a normal five or six year old child acts. I wasn't going crazy or anything but I did something that my mom did not like. She promised me that when we got home, she would hit me. I say hit, even though she probably used to word "spank" because her "spanks" weren't so spank-like.

So we get home. She sits down on the living room couch. I know what's going to happen. She calls me over to her. She tells me to lie down across her lap, buttocks facing her. I don't understand why being me is so wrong. I climb up her wide leg to her lap and start laughing in her face. Just laughing. Hysterically, for no reason. I went overboard because I realized, she started to crack a smile. Eventually she started to laugh and I think she forgot why she even wanted to hit me in the first place. She asked me what I was laughing about. I kept laughing. She told me to get down. So I did and I avoided one night of being hit.

Why would you not discipline a child in other manners? I understand some kids need a good spanking but to plan it out? She set up the fear in me. I thought about it while eating out and on the way home. I'd hope she forgot about it because really, I don't know what I did. I WAS A CHILD! As if I have all this adult kind of control over my thoughts and actions. Please. Needless to say, she didn't forget about it. Why didn't she just wait until we got home and then startle me with a spanking? I will tell you why. Because she is a sick person.

One of the many memories of my mother's awful way of treating me as a child. A conversation with a friend sprung this up in me. I probably should write about my experiences more often because I think they fuck me up on a daily level as an adult.

Thanks "Mom".

Oh and perhaps to those who may read this and think something along the lines of "that's not so bad" or "I had it worse", I can assure you that this was one of the less fucked up experiences as a child. It still hurts today though and it pales in comparison to most of the other shit she did to me.

... breathe ...