- Jun 26, 2014
- Avenue Q in the US
I figured out all that time I was terrified of making the woman who helped raise me and take care of me, I didn’t really have to be and should have stood up to her knowing she’d be way too afraid to seriously hurt me. I wasted hours cleaning her entire house and it never being good enough for her just for one hour of tv? And I poured all those glasses of wine that she bought with my money? Why? What is the point of it all? The last time I spent any time with her and she attacked me, her left foot was still healing from being broken. I could have escaped from her earlier because she couldn’t go too far or fast chasing me with that boot on. If I locked myself in the bathroom, it’s not like she could kick the door down because she’d either have to use her right foot to do it thus putting all her body weight on the injured foot or use the injured one only to hurt herself again. I could have flushed any bottle of wine down the toilet and yeah she could start beating me for it but then she’d have to explain to my dad and everyone else how I got all those bruises and possibly a black eye when I’m not known to be clumsy and running into things. She’d have to make an excuse that seems plausible at making me look bad and her look like the victim. Me being covered in bruises would never work with her scheme to keep me under her control and manipulate people into thinking I am doing all these things that make it look like she’s the victim. And if she stabbed me, she’d have a hard time explaining how I got stabbed and died because she didn’t call for help after the attack or if she did call for help, she’d have problems explaining to the police and paramedics how and why I got stabbed while still looking like the real victim and her defending herself especially if there are no bruises on her or any indication that I fought back and hit her. Her game was always making sure she had total control over me and use me as a scapegoat so she could look innocent and very much the victim in other people’s eyes. If she ever seriously hurt me, she could never talk her way out of it. There was no real reason for me to fear her because she was too afraid to ever physically hurt me so much that she left bruises. She’d just slap me and keep pushing me back. I should have used her broken foot injury to my advantage and make her stop using me to fuel her alcoholism and personal scapegoat. I should have called her out on her bluffs more. I should have shown her that I had no reason to be afraid of her and for me to have to call her before I went to get the mail and when I got back was a stupid thing and that me burning some popcorn in the microwave was just a mistake and that no real harm came from it and that her punishing me for it was idiotic.