My mother almost let me die when I was a child

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FluffyDog
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08 Jun 2012, 9:17 am

The memory was gone for a very long time. This morning it came back and it is painful. I still feel like crying even after I have done that for several hours already. Of course it doesn't help that my mother and me have had a (verbal) fight about ten days ago and haven't talked with each other since then, except for some more fighting and hurting each other.
Later today I will talk to my sister on the phone when she's home from her work, but right now I just need to tell somebody. It hurts too much not to share it with anyone. Not even the dog is here to help me with this.

I must have been about six or seven years old by the time things went really bad. My mother and me already had a history of not understanding each other at that time. She was always disappointed with me because I didn't get along with the other children at the kindergarten or later at school. She also disliked that I was fat as a child. She has been on some diet or other for as long as I can think. She always wanted me to be slim and she wanted to be slim herself.

I think there had been similar situations before but I can't remember them. The situation I remember happened about half a year, maybe nine months before I got really sick. We were on holiday with my grandparents and a couple from our village who we were quite friendly with. It was evening and we were in the hotel. It must have been after dinner. I remember my belly ached. It was really painful. I laid on the bed and cried in pain. I could hardly move. As a child I hardly ever cried; I could take pain quite well.

But my mother didn't help me. She told me it was my own fault, that I had eaten too much, that the the pain would go away on its own, that I needn't cry because I deserved it for eating so much. I don't remember eating particularly much that evening. I remember thinking that she always said that and that it wasn't true. That's why I think there were similar situations before. The pain went on for a long time but finally it ended. I think my parents had wanted to go out that evening, leaving my grandparents to watch over my sister and me. I think my mother was angry with me because I had runied their evening with my "imagined" belly pain.

Some months later I was at my grandmother's house (the same grandmother who had been on holiday with us). It was school holidays again, the Easter holidays. My parents were away on some excursion or day-trip, maybe even over night, I don't remember. They had left me with my grandparents. Then I had another attack of intense belly pain. (There may or may not have been some attacks of belly pain in the meantime between the two memories; I do not remember.) It was bad. I laid on the bed and cried and cried and cried. it was worse than before. My grandmother didn't know what to do with me and finally she called an ambulance to take me to the hospital.

I remember little of what happened after that point. I remember being in a hospital room with two older girls after I woke up. The ambulance must have taken me to the hospital. Somebody (I don't know who) later told me that another person had been about to have an operation performed on them but the doctors let them wait in the hospital corridor because there wasn't time to do that operation first. I would have died if they had left me to wait. My appendix was completely infected and it was about to break open, flooding the inside of my belly with puss and worse things. If that had happened I wouldn't have survived, the doctors said. Even half an hour later might have been too late for me. The operation must have been a hurried mess. The scar on my lower abdomen is huge and ugly. I don't think there was time left for aestethic concerns.

After the operation I recovered quickly and easily. I had to stay in the hospital for a week or maybe two, but I felt better as soon as I woke up after the operation. I've never had problems with my lower intestines again.

But the thing is, I told my parents that something was wrong with me. I told them it hurt. I asked them for help. And they just told me to not be a baby. The pain returned and they still didn't do anything. If I hadn't been with my grandmother that fateful day of my emergency operation I don't know if my mother would have realized how serious the situation was. I'm afraid she might have told me to stop crying again and have left me in pain until my appendix would have broken open, killing me.

It hurts to think that she didn't do as much as asking a doctor for his opinion before things went really bad. I can't remember us ever talking about the whole thing and that hurts too. It's almost as if she doesn't want to admit that she made a mistake and that she should have listened to me. It also hurts that my grandmother is demented today and doesn't remember even having grandchildren, let alone that incident some 25 years ago. It hurts that right now there is nobody here who I can talk to, not even the dog who would let me cry into his fur even though he wouldn't understand the situation. It hurts that I know I cannot talk about it to my mother when she comes home from work because we would only fight again and hurt each other even more.

I'm so grateful that my sister said I can phone her later even though she doesn't know yet what it is about. Right now I just need to tell somebody and maybe my sister will understand why it hurts so much. She's a great sister even though I have never been easy for her to live with.


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NateRiver
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08 Jun 2012, 11:49 am

FluffyDog wrote:
The memory was gone for a very long time. This morning it came back and it is painful. I still feel like crying even after I have done that for several hours already. Of course it doesn't help that my mother and me have had a (verbal) fight about ten days ago and haven't talked with each other since then, except for some more fighting and hurting each other.
Later today I will talk to my sister on the phone when she's home from her work, but right now I just need to tell somebody. It hurts too much not to share it with anyone. Not even the dog is here to help me with this.

I must have been about six or seven years old by the time things went really bad. My mother and me already had a history of not understanding each other at that time. She was always disappointed with me because I didn't get along with the other children at the kindergarten or later at school. She also disliked that I was fat as a child. She has been on some diet or other for as long as I can think. She always wanted me to be slim and she wanted to be slim herself.

I think there had been similar situations before but I can't remember them. The situation I remember happened about half a year, maybe nine months before I got really sick. We were on holiday with my grandparents and a couple from our village who we were quite friendly with. It was evening and we were in the hotel. It must have been after dinner. I remember my belly ached. It was really painful. I laid on the bed and cried in pain. I could hardly move. As a child I hardly ever cried; I could take pain quite well.

But my mother didn't help me. She told me it was my own fault, that I had eaten too much, that the the pain would go away on its own, that I needn't cry because I deserved it for eating so much. I don't remember eating particularly much that evening. I remember thinking that she always said that and that it wasn't true. That's why I think there were similar situations before. The pain went on for a long time but finally it ended. I think my parents had wanted to go out that evening, leaving my grandparents to watch over my sister and me. I think my mother was angry with me because I had runied their evening with my "imagined" belly pain.

Some months later I was at my grandmother's house (the same grandmother who had been on holiday with us). It was school holidays again, the Easter holidays. My parents were away on some excursion or day-trip, maybe even over night, I don't remember. They had left me with my grandparents. Then I had another attack of intense belly pain. (There may or may not have been some attacks of belly pain in the meantime between the two memories; I do not remember.) It was bad. I laid on the bed and cried and cried and cried. it was worse than before. My grandmother didn't know what to do with me and finally she called an ambulance to take me to the hospital.

I remember little of what happened after that point. I remember being in a hospital room with two older girls after I woke up. The ambulance must have taken me to the hospital. Somebody (I don't know who) later told me that another person had been about to have an operation performed on them but the doctors let them wait in the hospital corridor because there wasn't time to do that operation first. I would have died if they had left me to wait. My appendix was completely infected and it was about to break open, flooding the inside of my belly with puss and worse things. If that had happened I wouldn't have survived, the doctors said. Even half an hour later might have been too late for me. The operation must have been a hurried mess. The scar on my lower abdomen is huge and ugly. I don't think there was time left for aestethic concerns.

After the operation I recovered quickly and easily. I had to stay in the hospital for a week or maybe two, but I felt better as soon as I woke up after the operation. I've never had problems with my lower intestines again.

But the thing is, I told my parents that something was wrong with me. I told them it hurt. I asked them for help. And they just told me to not be a baby. The pain returned and they still didn't do anything. If I hadn't been with my grandmother that fateful day of my emergency operation I don't know if my mother would have realized how serious the situation was. I'm afraid she might have told me to stop crying again and have left me in pain until my appendix would have broken open, killing me.

It hurts to think that she didn't do as much as asking a doctor for his opinion before things went really bad. I can't remember us ever talking about the whole thing and that hurts too. It's almost as if she doesn't want to admit that she made a mistake and that she should have listened to me. It also hurts that my grandmother is demented today and doesn't remember even having grandchildren, let alone that incident some 25 years ago. It hurts that right now there is nobody here who I can talk to, not even the dog who would let me cry into his fur even though he wouldn't understand the situation. It hurts that I know I cannot talk about it to my mother when she comes home from work because we would only fight again and hurt each other even more.

I'm so grateful that my sister said I can phone her later even though she doesn't know yet what it is about. Right now I just need to tell somebody and maybe my sister will understand why it hurts so much. She's a great sister even though I have never been easy for her to live with.



I'm very sorry. I'm bad at empathy. But I honestly don't know what to say..



ghoti
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08 Jun 2012, 1:23 pm

I can emphasize with that, but i was younger and is a repressed memory. Some parents really suck and should be out of your life for something like that. Good thing you have a sister you can talk to.


My story was that i had severe ear infection, and the pain must have been so bad that i went into a coma. My worthless father refused to let me receive any medical attention with this and all my mother could do was pray and hold me for the duration. She was small and disabled so she was not able to obtain the attention herself. I eventually woke up a couple days later though my father would have just left me for dead.



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08 Jun 2012, 2:21 pm

FluffyDog wrote:
The memory was gone for a very long time. This morning it came back and it is painful. I still feel like crying even after I have done that for several hours already. Of course it doesn't help that my mother and me have had a (verbal) fight about ten days ago and haven't talked with each other since then, except for some more fighting and hurting each other.
Later today I will talk to my sister on the phone when she's home from her work, but right now I just need to tell somebody. It hurts too much not to share it with anyone. Not even the dog is here to help me with this.

I must have been about six or seven years old by the time things went really bad. My mother and me already had a history of not understanding each other at that time. She was always disappointed with me because I didn't get along with the other children at the kindergarten or later at school. She also disliked that I was fat as a child. She has been on some diet or other for as long as I can think. She always wanted me to be slim and she wanted to be slim herself.

I think there had been similar situations before but I can't remember them. The situation I remember happened about half a year, maybe nine months before I got really sick. We were on holiday with my grandparents and a couple from our village who we were quite friendly with. It was evening and we were in the hotel. It must have been after dinner. I remember my belly ached. It was really painful. I laid on the bed and cried in pain. I could hardly move. As a child I hardly ever cried; I could take pain quite well.

But my mother didn't help me. She told me it was my own fault, that I had eaten too much, that the the pain would go away on its own, that I needn't cry because I deserved it for eating so much. I don't remember eating particularly much that evening. I remember thinking that she always said that and that it wasn't true. That's why I think there were similar situations before. The pain went on for a long time but finally it ended. I think my parents had wanted to go out that evening, leaving my grandparents to watch over my sister and me. I think my mother was angry with me because I had runied their evening with my "imagined" belly pain.

Some months later I was at my grandmother's house (the same grandmother who had been on holiday with us). It was school holidays again, the Easter holidays. My parents were away on some excursion or day-trip, maybe even over night, I don't remember. They had left me with my grandparents. Then I had another attack of intense belly pain. (There may or may not have been some attacks of belly pain in the meantime between the two memories; I do not remember.) It was bad. I laid on the bed and cried and cried and cried. it was worse than before. My grandmother didn't know what to do with me and finally she called an ambulance to take me to the hospital.

I remember little of what happened after that point. I remember being in a hospital room with two older girls after I woke up. The ambulance must have taken me to the hospital. Somebody (I don't know who) later told me that another person had been about to have an operation performed on them but the doctors let them wait in the hospital corridor because there wasn't time to do that operation first. I would have died if they had left me to wait. My appendix was completely infected and it was about to break open, flooding the inside of my belly with puss and worse things. If that had happened I wouldn't have survived, the doctors said. Even half an hour later might have been too late for me. The operation must have been a hurried mess. The scar on my lower abdomen is huge and ugly. I don't think there was time left for aestethic concerns.

After the operation I recovered quickly and easily. I had to stay in the hospital for a week or maybe two, but I felt better as soon as I woke up after the operation. I've never had problems with my lower intestines again.

But the thing is, I told my parents that something was wrong with me. I told them it hurt. I asked them for help. And they just told me to not be a baby. The pain returned and they still didn't do anything. If I hadn't been with my grandmother that fateful day of my emergency operation I don't know if my mother would have realized how serious the situation was. I'm afraid she might have told me to stop crying again and have left me in pain until my appendix would have broken open, killing me.

It hurts to think that she didn't do as much as asking a doctor for his opinion before things went really bad. I can't remember us ever talking about the whole thing and that hurts too. It's almost as if she doesn't want to admit that she made a mistake and that she should have listened to me. It also hurts that my grandmother is demented today and doesn't remember even having grandchildren, let alone that incident some 25 years ago. It hurts that right now there is nobody here who I can talk to, not even the dog who would let me cry into his fur even though he wouldn't understand the situation. It hurts that I know I cannot talk about it to my mother when she comes home from work because we would only fight again and hurt each other even more.

I'm so grateful that my sister said I can phone her later even though she doesn't know yet what it is about. Right now I just need to tell somebody and maybe my sister will understand why it hurts so much. She's a great sister even though I have never been easy for her to live with.

*Awkward aspie hug* Hope you're feeling better soon.


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FluffyDog
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08 Jun 2012, 3:28 pm

Thanks for the kind words, everyone. It feels good to read that somebody can emphasize with my current pain. I'm also sorry for those of you who went through something similar.

Just writing about it here helped me to sort out my emotions. I have few people who I can really talk with and today I just needed a way to let it out.

My sister is really great. We just talked for two hours on the phone and not only does she understand why I'm so shaken by my recent fight with my mother and remembering that incident in my childhood, but she managed to make me laugh at how absurd our mother acts sometimes. Her absurd behaviour hurts both of us and I don't want my sister to be hurt but it still helps to see that I'm not the only one who has these problems with my mother. (By the way, my sister is NT, so those problems are not entirely ASD-related.)

I'm so grateful my sister took the time to listen to me and it also helped that she encouraged me to request an additional session with my therapist to talk about this specific memory. That shows me that she takes this very seriously and wants to help even though she was too young back than to remember anything (she must have been two or three years old at the time).

And I'm also grateful for everyone of you who took the time to write a few words in response, Sometimes I just need the feedback that I'm not being totally irrational and purposefully difficult.

It'll take time to come to grips with this memory and the pain associated with it, but on the other hand it's good that I remembered it at all because I think it explains a lot about why I don't trust my mother and about where all that pain and depression inside of me comes from. I'll try to turn my current pain into something that will teach me how to deal with my life in a better way.


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08 Jun 2012, 3:47 pm

We bleed and we live. And those of us who didn't don't worry about it. ;)
Good to hear you're feeling better. :)


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09 Jun 2012, 1:00 am

I am so sorry for what happened to you. Hugs, and I am glad you are feeling better.

My mother was similarly neglectful, though she didn't mean to be. I have forgiven her, but I know somewhat of what it feels like to not be taken care of.
I was born with AS and expected to be neurotypical, even though my mother didn't know I had AS, she knew something was wrong, but didn't get it checked out. Still don't know if that's good or bad.
I have scoliosis, spina bifuda occulta, possible Ehler's Danlos syndrome (dislocated 5-6 joints) and OCD. Mom never took me to the doctor growing up, and punished me for my OCD.
I dislocated and cracked my kneecap, and my mother didn't believe me. It took her a week to get me to the doctor, which resulted in 3 months of physical therapy.
I had swine flu, and it kept me in bed for days. I was yelled at for being lazy.
When I moved out I had to spend $1000 to get my back rehabilitated. I ended up having 15 pinched nerves, and after the rehab I had grown an inch because my back was straighter.
I was called a hypochondriac as a child. I had to pay the bills and was accidentally stolen from.
The sad thing is, my mother has Bipolar disorder, and G-d bless her, she doesn't realize this stuff affected me this way. She's caught up in her own emotional highs and lows. I'm not mad, I just feel sorry for her.

I'm not trying to negate your problems. I hope it doesn't come across like that. I just am posting this to let you know that I do understand, somewhat, and feel for you. You and I survived, and that's what counts.

It's forgiveness that's the hard part, but it's ultimately the most healing experience.



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09 Jun 2012, 5:29 pm

Sweet Pea hugsImage


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12 Jun 2012, 12:55 am

Aspie-hug.

I'm so, so very sorry to hear that you had to go through this. It really is horrible. You're here though, and this is just fantastic.
Reading this, I identified with my own experience with repressed memories, and it's better than my grasp over words can allow to know that we're not alone.



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13 Jun 2012, 3:52 am

Again, thanks for all your kind and understanding words. It means a lot to me to know that there is people out there who understand how dfficult this kind of thing can be. While I wish nothing bad upon anybody, it still helped to read that some of you have gone through something similar and made it through.


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13 Jun 2012, 6:36 am

Your mother sounded like she had body image issues, and was projecting them on to you, what with you wanting to be slim like her.


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