Mama's Always Cussing Me Out--For No Reason

This issue is a very sensitive matter with me. I. HAVE. ALWAYS. HAD. PROBLEMS. WITH. MOTHERS (PEOPLE). WHO. DO. THIS!

I'm going to hit home, and I know what I'm about to tell you about my daughter will ring true for many mothers (and fathers/guardians/adults) who are as guilty of this to some degree or another.

I have a grandson who recently left for college.

Prior to him leaving, we had dinner at his favorite restaurant. But on the way to the restaurant, via my peripheral vision, I noticed him staring at me. Knowing of his most recent incident of having been horrifically verbally and physically abused by his mother (my daughter), I glanced over at him asking, reaching for his hand: "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

He smiled and said quietly : "I'm good. I just love you so much."

His proclamation touched my core. I quickly retorted: "Not more than I love you."

He replied beaming: "You can't measure my love for you, grandmother"

I replied: "Ah! But I have been loving you longer." Then I asked again: "What's wrong? I know you. Something is bothering you."

At that instant, he burst into tears, at which point I pulled over, urging him to tell me what was going on.

He looked me square in the eyes and asked me: "How come my mother does not love me like you  and grandmother (who is really his [last living] great grandmother--he calls all of us "grandmother) do? She's not like you. What is wrong with her?"

As chunky tears welled in my eyes, holding his hand as I drove, I started again toward our destination, stating: "She loves you. She just has issues. She was never treated the way she treats you. She was never abused verbally, emotionally, physically or otherwise by anyone when she was growing up. If anything, she's spoiled and selfish. I have to admit she is the nastiest of the nastiest people I know. And I'm ashamed of her. I'm sad that all the talking I've done to her has not yielded a resolution to this situation. We've solved many-a-problems, but not this one, and I don't know why. I'm praying she'll change. She's been asking me for years if I think you're beginning to hate her. So, she knows what she's doing is wrong. She knows how much she is hurting you--and me, and everybody else she disrespects."

"But grandmother, she's been treating me like this all of my life--since I was in preschool, and I'm about the leave for college and it's still happening--and it has gotten worse.

"What kind of mother stabs their child--not once, but twice? What kind of mother calls her child all kinds of bitches and motherfuckers, and tell him he ain't shit--he's just like his daddy? What kind of mother does that? I'm 18 years old, and she's still beating on me, cussing me out. Man! I keep telling you, grandmother, she never wanted me. She never wanted me because my dad didn't want her. The things she says to me, grandmother..." His voice trailed off.

By now we had arrived at the restaurant, where we sat in the parking lot talking through his emotional pain (like we have done many, many times in the past). By the time we concluded our heart-to-heart talk, he had recaptured the many words of wisdom I have imparted to him during the many crisis we faced over the years involving my daughter. (Mind you: She is not on drugs--that I know of; she works a good job; has never struggled financially because of my tenured/constant, and very generous financial help since my grandson has been in the world. She also has an extended family/financial support base--a support base that the average mother would give a right arm to have. In fact, she is a proficient swindler, and has therefore never been short on cash.)

For dinner, we ordered several entrees. Our table looked like a buffet. During the course of dinner, we talked about many times we were together shopping or at lunch or dinner, times when we encountered funny, weird, and sad situations--reliving each instance we recalled.  He ate himself silly. We laughed a lot and had a really good time.

Near the end of dinner, he asked me: "Grandmother, are you proud of me for turning out to be good and focused, and not allowing all the bad things my mother has said and done to me affect me negatively?

I asked for both his hands, enveloping them in mine as best I could (because his hands are huge), and I said to him firmly: "I'm not only proud of you, I am extremely grateful that you've turned out to be an extraordinarily smart, good, and loving young man. I love you. And, I'm going to tell you this: Now that you are 18 years old, I can officially beat-the-brakes off your mama if she ever hurt you again."

He launched into loud, unrestrained laughter and we left heading home.

There are millions of children who endure abuse like my grandson, and millions endure far worse than he ever experienced.

I'm not excusing fathers, but children are more likely to spend all or most of their childhood years under the guardianship of their mothers, and are more likely to be verbally, emotionally, and physically abused by their mothers.

I am not talking about jumping in their butts about things they are not doing correctly or are told to do. I'm talking about unprovoked verbal, emotional, and physical abuse--the caliber of abuse that last and affects a child throughout his or her life, affecting how they deal with others, and eventually their own children.

When a child is abused, they are likely to grow up and become abusers, i.e., children mimic what they hear, see, and experience; and the cycle repeats itself until an abused child commits not to become an abuser--like I did. (I was an abused child, which I will talk about in another posting, and I will share how I broke the cycle by making a commitment not to copy my mother's abusive ways. I had too much innate love in me. I knew I was different--so different, I knew I had to teach my mother how not to be an abuser, as well as how to love.)

Stay strong.

Love, Saishe! Holla-back!