I mentioned in the post Rage, Yelling, and Tears that the dishes were a special area of concern with my NM. Some of her most terrifying rages were about the dishes, sometimes she would rage and sometimes she would cry and rage. Two overlapping areas in particular were dishes that didn't come out clean (and sometimes got put away dirty), and her precious copper pots and pans.
A dish that didn't get clean was never the dishwasher's fault, it was always the fault of the person who had last loaded the dishwasher. Of course that person wither either my sister, me, or both of us together. Sometimes she would check the dishes before running the dishwasher, and we would either be summoned to again clean a dish she didn't think was clean enough for the dishwasher, or she would angrily redo it herself. If a dish was put away dirty, there would be yelling about it when it was found. Or we hadn't loaded it "right" she would redo it herself and there would be lots of banging of dishes around while she went at it in anger.
By far though, the most common rages involved her precious copper pots and pans. Even when we got them clean she criticized us for using too much of her pot polish, she could get it done with far less, after all. Heaven forbid she find a one of those put away "dirty"! In fact I realize now what she often thought of as not clean enough was really water spots, or that it wasn't polished shiny enough... Anyway, she would start slamming things around and yelling and sometimes she would make my sister or me stand their and wash it again, criticizing us for using too much polish all the while.
The most loud slamming and banging of things typically occurred the pots and their lids were put away "dirty" or weren't put away "right", whichever way that was. Hell if I know. All I know is the smaller pans stacked inside the larger ones, but she had so many pots and different large ones and there was so little space where she stored them that it was difficult to do it "right"! Things would be clanging angrily as she rearranged them, she'd slam the cabinets shut, and yell or cry or both. This is where I feel the word "terrifying" is truly an appropriate description of my experience as a child with this. Her reaction was so out of proportion to the problem it was insane. And of course I felt it was my fault she was so mad, which then made me feel both terrified and like a horrible person. I just can't seem to convey the experience and how terrifying she was to me clearly in writing...
So I learned to hate doing dishes, although when I was a teenager I got better at doing them and when the dishwasher broke and we switched to hand washing them I usually got them clean. The truth is it wasn't the dishes I hated, but the association of them with my NM and her rages. I dislike folding laundry too, for similar reasons. How angry she would get when little five year old Adela was found to have shoved her clean clothes in her drawers instead of folding them! But of course my NM couldn't be bothered to help and make sure I did it. Ugh. Ridiculous to expect a five year old to learn to clean and fold laundry on their own, unsupervised, out of intrinsic motivation, but I digress, see Spanking and Learned Helplessness for more on my NM, cleaning, and developmentally inappropriate expectations of children.
Anyway, I realize I don't like loud noises not just because I have sensitive hearing, but also for the same reason I don't like angry voices and yelling. It triggers emotional flashbacks to when I was a child suffering my NM's rages. And I still don't like doing dirty dishes. Often I let the dishes build up and get overwhelmed by them, but I'm getting a little better and my DH is a huge help. Also we own nice non-stick pots and pans with tempered glass lids. And since I can't stack them inside each other, I hang them from a pot rack on the ceiling. The glass lids make less racket than metal ones. No clanging and banging and no need to polish them. I greatly prefer this.
I used to get irritated with DH when a dish came out of our dishwasher (once we got one) and it was dirty but have since realized I'm repeating my NM's irrational behavior and learned that a stupid dirty dish is nothing to get worked up about. Who cares if or why a dish comes out of the dishwasher dirty, it'll get clean the next time around!
Next time, more on dishes. Specifically my old phobia, kitchen knives, and my NM.
Kitchen knives and your narcissist mother?
ReplyDeleteI can't wait.
Omg, your mom is a lunatic! What a bitch. Biiiitch. Crrrrruuuuuuaaaayyyzeeeee bitch.
ReplyDeleteScrew dishes man! Dishes don't matter!
Amen, sister!
DeleteWell, this sounds familiar. My mother said we vacuumed wrong, ruined her washer by using detergent other than Amway, made us lift up kitchen chairs to pull then from the table (rather than drag them on the floor, didn't like the way my boyfriend sat down on her sofa because he "flopped" - meaning he didn't lower himself into the seat like a ballerina doing a plié... The list goes on. My friends dubbed my parents' house the museum because everything was not to be touched. No one could believe 3 children lived in the house.
ReplyDeleteOnce my grandmother slipped on the stairs in our house, and her shoe took a pea-sized gouge out of the front edge of the wooden step. For the rest of the time they lived in that house, they made sniping remarks about my grandmother ruining the staircase. Like she was contemptible for losing her balance. She was lucky she didn't break her neck!
I hate loud noises too because I'm conditioned to freak if I think my mother will be disturbed. I learned to walk in the house without making a sound and even knew the squeaky places in the floor to avoid. I do ok most of the time with my son -- he walks like an elephant and thinks he's being sneaky, lol, but I won't let him keep bouncy rubber balls in the house because they make me feel jumpy. I think it's because my little brother was playing with one when I was babysitting him (without permission -- the scamp grabbed it in a blink of my eye) and it broke one of my mother's figurines. Over 20 years later, she still is irritated with me about it.
Wow, your mother is a piece of work! How dare your grandmother fall and RUIN her precious staircase! And she still complains about a broken figurine 20 years later? Damn these people can sure hold grudges!
DeleteAnd hey, bouncy rubber balls are better played with outside anyway where there are no ceilings to limit how high you can bounce them! ;)
Wow, does this ever sound and feel familiar. The one sentence that sums up my childhood and I spoke repeatedly and timidly was, "Mommy, are you mad at me?" Response, "NO!" (I guess I was suppose to me a mind-reader by age 3/4.) And all the behaviors you described-the slamming, banging, sharp heels clomping against floors etc., oh YES!
ReplyDelete"Her actions were so out of proportion to the problem it was insane." I DO get the terror (in my own version of course) you're conveying.
A story shook loose for me reading this post. In my freshman yr. of HS I received a 99 on my Algebra Regents Exam. Cue rage because it wasn't perfect but as I recall it was primarily verbal but no doubt there was some physical abuse (screaming, yelling followed by the Silent Treatment for weeks.) My sophomore year I struggled a bit with Geometry-received a few high 80's on some of my tests, the rest were 90's, 100's. My biobitch mother terrorized me throughout that year and by the time of the Geometry Regents Exam I was a wreck. As I was returning home after the exam, she way-layed me as she was "working" in one of her gardens. (We HAD gardeners, so her "work" was primarily window dressing.) She called me over and demanded to know how I did on the Exam. I very timidly told her I didn't know if I had done as well as I had on the Algebra Exam. She started beating me with a trowel she was holding in her hand about my head, face, shoulders and screaming at me-I don't remember what she was screaming-yk, the words. I crouched down at her feet and tried to hold my hands and arms over my head to protect myself. (Learned Helplessness.) I just remember the sound of my heart, the feel of tears and blood streaming down my face and neck, arms. Head wounds bleed profusely.
I was 15 yrs. old. The grades hadn't even been posted yet.
She continued to be physically violent towards me even in my young adult years if I was in her physical presence. I am ashamed to even admit this. This continued until I terminated the relationship.
TW
As my Asian friends like to (half) joke, a 99 is an "Asian F". Guess you mom comes from the same school of thought as theirs! It's so crazy! They're narcissistic fucking terrorists. I'm so sorry we've all had to experience such fear because these lunatics.
DeleteHmph, gardening. Right. More like waiting to ambush. Head wounds do bleed a lot, my father had one once and it wouldn't stop bleeding so he needed to go to the hospital for stitches. I'm willing to bet your mother didn't think anything of the fact your head was gushing blood, let alone take you to have it looked at!
I don't think you have anything to be ashamed of, that you were eventually able to stop the abuse by terminating the relationship is an accomplishment in itself and I think you deserve some credit for that! It's really hard to stop the abuse of someone who has been doing it to you for your whole life. My DH was physically abused by his mother well into his teenage years even though he was much bigger and stronger than her by then. It's a hard thing to confront and end. Even when you have the physical power to stop it, getting the emotional strength and willpower to do so is really difficult. It may have taken you awhile, but you did it!
Omg, TW, that's awful.
DeleteThat reminds me of a time when I was failing math or something in high school and my mom came into the room saying we needed "to talk." Somehow it ended with her throwing things at me. It wasn't a productive meeting.
My mom was always taller than me at 5'5". I used to think, the way she was harrassing me, did she want me to throw down with her? She's old! I could take her right? But then I thought she just couldn't wait to jump up and point her fingers at me going LOOK LOOK SHE HIT ME! SHE HIT ME! And then she'd probably just go more insane and try to kill me or herself anyways. My dad kind of sort of shoved her and she sort of tripped and fell and hurt her arm on the wall, and screamed bloody murder for hours afterward.
"And then she'd probably just go more insane and try to kill me..." EXACTLY!
ReplyDeleteI'm not kidding or exaggerating when I say I'm surprised I wasn't toe-tagged by 3yo. My psychobitch was a Health Care Professional. (I have always respected her academic achievements given her age and educational opportunities-she was born in 1923.) I can't tell you how many times I heard from her about what a PITA I was apparently from birth. I "cried all the time" (until I stopped, apparently) and just generally made her life hell. I also have an older Nsis so it's not like this woman didn't have OJT secondary to her professional training AND OJT vis a vie experience with another baby. Eventually, she (or I think it was Dad) bought me to a Pediatrician (which they could WELL afford) and I was dxd. with what now would be called "Failure To Thrive." She wasn't feeding me enough. Babies cry for a reason. And she thought this story was so amusing she didn't hesitate to tell others. I would feel just horrid if my baby was hungry and I left them to starve not because there was some underlying medical issue that prevented the infant from taking nourishment but because I could just dump it in the crib, walk out, close the door and go to another area of the house or leave the house so I didn't have to hear the cries. Not her. It was another example of my intentional willfulness. Or something along those lines. I had one repeat nightmare as a child involving a hand. It continued well into middle childhood and I can still vividly recall that dream.
Yeesch. I do get Stockholm Syndrome, Traumatic Bonding etc. intellectually. But the residue of neglect and abuse colors one's world for years. Broken bones heal, burns scar over. But IMO the psychological/emotional abuse is the most enduring legacy. You can place a person in a prison with no discernible bars or walls and without them ever recognizing they hold the keys to their own freedom if you start terrorizing them when they are Little Ones.
TW
Respect her educational achievements? Who the hell cares about her educational achievements? Your mom's a bitch, she has no excuse, I don't care if she was born in 1801 and flew to the moon, defying the laws of science and shattering all gender norms and building her own rocketship. She's not a human being, AKA is a piece of shit. So she had a job, yeah, that happens. She probably didn't deserve it.
Delete