I feel like I'm about to have diarrhea of the mouth.
I'm old. I was raised somewhere in the middle of a large irish family. I make excuses for my mothers behavior now but when she was in charge of my life she made it a living hell. She was always pregnant. Like 8 kids in 10 years always. It was obvious she had favorites but I was not one of them. I spent most of my childhood punished to my room. If I try to recall why all I can think of is I would not or could not finish the food I was served. She was quick with a wooden spoon, hand, or would send a sibling out for a switch. When dad got home punishment #2 for same crime came in the form of a belt on a naked bottom. It was the day she beat me black and blue with the metal extention to the vacuum that is burned in my memory forever. She was on the phone with a friend and I was tickling my younger sister and I guess she couldn't hear what her friend was saying. I heard, I'll call you back and then the woman I called mother began to hit and hit and hit and hit with that fucking pipe. Over and over. I crawled under these strikes to my room as fast as I could. My sister tried to comfort me and my broken body. I knew the punishment wasn't over, dad wasn't home yet. Yes he did give me punishment # 2 for the same crime. He asked me to strip and had me lay on the bed and proceeded to whip my broken body again. I hated them both for such a long time.