Grooming as torture?

[Guest guest]

's story of her nada picking and prodding at 's face every time she

saw a blackhead, made me remember something odd which I hadn't thought of in

many years.

When I was in fourth grade, bio-dad (whom I hadn't even seen for years) made

a surprise visit and wanted to take me to a baseball game. I wanted to go,

which made Nada furious. Anything short of expressing total hatred toward my

bio-dad was considered a horrible betrayal. So anyway I went to the ball game.

It was a hot day and I had shorts on. The seats were these old-fashioned

wooden things, with older dark-green flaking paint on them.

Anyway I got home and went to nada's bedroom to " report " everything that

bio-dad had done and said (she was always looking for something to call and

yell at him about, in her perscription-drug haze).

So I'm reporting and suddenly she yells, horrified (cuz as we know,

everything is a catastrophe with our nadas), " OMG WHATS WRONG WITH YOUR LEGS? "

She claimed I had green " splinters " all over the back of my legs, and the

splinters needed to come out RIGHT AWAY!

Now of COURSE, many years later, in hindsight, it OCCURRED to me (duh), that

I would have noticed hundreds of splinters in my legs, and what she was seeing

were probably tiny flecks of the green paint. And it also occurs to me, that

she probably knew that.

However, she made me lie on the bed. She got a thick embroidery needle and

proceeded to " remove splinters " from the backs of my legs, " hundreds of them "

literally for hours. My legs hurt for so long afterward. It was really quite a

unique experience.

Now, those of you who have ever used a needle to remove a splinter from a

child, know how carefully one does this, how shallowly one tries to go, just

enough to free the splinter so it can be plucked out.

She, on the other hand, GOUGED the backs of my legs, for HOURS (didn't she

get tired of it?) with this heavy needle. All the while claiming to do

something I " needed done " . When I complained, she blamed my bio-dad of course,

for failing to take proper care of me (like she was doing now).

She was helping me right? I told her a bunch of times the " splinters " weren't

bothering me but removing them was. And she gouged harder. That'll teach me to

go to the ballgame with the enemy.

Anyone else experience " grooming as torture " ?

Flea

---------------------------------

Yahoo! Photos

Got holiday prints? See all the ways to get quality prints in your hands ASAP.

[Guest guest]

Argggh! This topic makes me cringe even now. When I was young my

nada had my hair cropped short like a boy---it was so embarrassing

especially because I was very self-conscious about my ears. I was

always begging her to have long hair (I envisioned my hair being

long like Blair on the Facts of Life show---for anyone from that

era). Anyway, so she caved and said that she needed to wash it

though so it would come out right, because long hair required alot

of work which I couldn't handle. So my hair grew out and I was

thrilled, but that couldn't last long. Nada started making sure my

hair would tangle terribly when she washed it, and would never use

conditioner. Then she would dry it in that tangled nest-like state,

which only made it worse, and only THEN would she proceed to comb it

through with my fada's fine tooth comb. I was in agony as she

yanked my hair with all her might and it would just come out in

chuncks with these knots on the ends.....finally after many of these

scenes I had to get it short because nada said my hair was " like rat

hair and no good to grow long " , she was always saying my hair was

not of good quality like hers (yeh, she was like a Euro version of

Chaka Khan). My hair was silky, but a little on the thin side and

board straight, no waves. Once I grew up it was the first thing I

did, grow my hair long.

Great thread.

Hugs--

Sofiapeel

>

> 's story of her nada picking and prodding at 's face

every time she saw a blackhead, made me remember something odd

which I hadn't thought of in many years.

>

> When I was in fourth grade, bio-dad (whom I hadn't even seen for

years) made a surprise visit and wanted to take me to a baseball

game. I wanted to go, which made Nada furious. Anything short of

expressing total hatred toward my bio-dad was considered a horrible

betrayal. So anyway I went to the ball game.

>

> It was a hot day and I had shorts on. The seats were these old-

fashioned wooden things, with older dark-green flaking paint on

them.

>

> Anyway I got home and went to nada's bedroom to " report "

everything that bio-dad had done and said (she was always looking

for something to call and yell at him about, in her perscription-

drug haze).

>

> So I'm reporting and suddenly she yells, horrified (cuz as we

know, everything is a catastrophe with our nadas), " OMG WHATS WRONG

WITH YOUR LEGS? "

>

> She claimed I had green " splinters " all over the back of my

legs, and the splinters needed to come out RIGHT AWAY!

>

> Now of COURSE, many years later, in hindsight, it OCCURRED to me

(duh), that I would have noticed hundreds of splinters in my legs,

and what she was seeing were probably tiny flecks of the green

paint. And it also occurs to me, that she probably knew that.

>

> However, she made me lie on the bed. She got a thick embroidery

needle and proceeded to " remove splinters " from the backs of my

legs, " hundreds of them " literally for hours. My legs hurt for so

long afterward. It was really quite a unique experience.

>

> Now, those of you who have ever used a needle to remove a

splinter from a child, know how carefully one does this, how

shallowly one tries to go, just enough to free the splinter so it

can be plucked out.

>

> She, on the other hand, GOUGED the backs of my legs, for HOURS

(didn't she get tired of it?) with this heavy needle. All the while

claiming to do something I " needed done " . When I complained, she

blamed my bio-dad of course, for failing to take proper care of me

(like she was doing now).

>

> She was helping me right? I told her a bunch of times

the " splinters " weren't bothering me but removing them was. And she

gouged harder. That'll teach me to go to the ballgame with the

enemy.

>

> Anyone else experience " grooming as torture " ?

>

> Flea

>

>

> ---------------------------------

> Yahoo! Photos

> Got holiday prints? See all the ways to get quality prints in

your hands ASAP.

>

>

[Guest guest]

Flea,

As I stated before, my nada took particular pride in giving my brother and I

hideous haircuts. Now, I see it as something of a control tactic.

As a junior in high school, I was elated to get to go to my first prom. I

didn't have a date(I was the new girl in a school in a very small town, and had

such low self esteem that I thought nobody was interested in me) so I was going

stag. I did, however, have a ride with two couples. My nada took me dress

shopping the week prior, but restricted the budget so much that only a clearance

dress was affordable. It was a black cocktail dress that came to the knees, and

was covered in beads and sequins...much too adult for a prom. But I went ahead

and got it. I also looked in the prom issues of teen magazines, searching for a

way to do my hair that would be easy and pretty. The big night came, and my nada

INSISTED on doing my hair, even though I had already practiced and knew exactly

how to do it on my own. I allowed her to roll, and tease, and spray, and pull,

and style and restyle for over two hours. My ride showed up, and I was nearly in

tears. She was complaining that my hair was

too hard to work with and she couldn't do it. My ride had already left by the

time I was allowed to go ahead and do my own hair. I had it up in less than 10

minutes. The look on her face as i emerged from my room, ready to go, was one of

shock(I imagine at my own abilities to do my own hair) and strangely,I remember

thinking, of disgust. She had my stepfada drive me to the prom. There were

photos taken of me before I left, but they were never developed.

I now wonder if the " hair torture " was just a way to try to keep me from

going to my prom. As though she thought I would somehow do something immoral at

this dance, or that I would betray her rules in some way, shape, or form.

Thanks for bringing the question up. It begged for me to look further into

it.

---------------------------------

Yahoo! Photos

Got holiday prints? See all the ways to get quality prints in your hands ASAP.

[Guest guest]

Yep, that's my story exactly Sofia. Always the hair pulling w/my nada

and I have always remembered it and when you scream or cry she'd slap

me w/the brush. Ouch. Monsters I suppose- always thinking of their

own angst and anger from their childhood and never the option of

making a better life for themselves- taking responsiblity for their

own happiness. God forbid they should go nc w/their parents. Its long

overdue for me.

Kerrie

> >

> > 's story of her nada picking and prodding at 's face

> every time she saw a blackhead, made me remember something odd

> which I hadn't thought of in many years.

> >

> > When I was in fourth grade, bio-dad (whom I hadn't even seen

for

> years) made a surprise visit and wanted to take me to a baseball

> game. I wanted to go, which made Nada furious. Anything short of

> expressing total hatred toward my bio-dad was considered a

horrible

> betrayal. So anyway I went to the ball game.

> >

> > It was a hot day and I had shorts on. The seats were these old-

> fashioned wooden things, with older dark-green flaking paint on

> them.

> >

> > Anyway I got home and went to nada's bedroom to " report "

> everything that bio-dad had done and said (she was always looking

> for something to call and yell at him about, in her perscription-

> drug haze).

> >

> > So I'm reporting and suddenly she yells, horrified (cuz as we

> know, everything is a catastrophe with our nadas), " OMG WHATS

WRONG

> WITH YOUR LEGS? "

> >

> > She claimed I had green " splinters " all over the back of my

> legs, and the splinters needed to come out RIGHT AWAY!

> >

> > Now of COURSE, many years later, in hindsight, it OCCURRED to

me

> (duh), that I would have noticed hundreds of splinters in my legs,

> and what she was seeing were probably tiny flecks of the green

> paint. And it also occurs to me, that she probably knew that.

> >

> > However, she made me lie on the bed. She got a thick embroidery

> needle and proceeded to " remove splinters " from the backs of my

> legs, " hundreds of them " literally for hours. My legs hurt for so

> long afterward. It was really quite a unique experience.

> >

> > Now, those of you who have ever used a needle to remove a

> splinter from a child, know how carefully one does this, how

> shallowly one tries to go, just enough to free the splinter so it

> can be plucked out.

> >

> > She, on the other hand, GOUGED the backs of my legs, for HOURS

> (didn't she get tired of it?) with this heavy needle. All the

while

> claiming to do something I " needed done " . When I complained, she

> blamed my bio-dad of course, for failing to take proper care of me

> (like she was doing now).

> >

> > She was helping me right? I told her a bunch of times

> the " splinters " weren't bothering me but removing them was. And

she

> gouged harder. That'll teach me to go to the ballgame with the

> enemy.

> >

> > Anyone else experience " grooming as torture " ?

> >

> > Flea

> >

> >

> > ---------------------------------

> > Yahoo! Photos

> > Got holiday prints? See all the ways to get quality prints in

> your hands ASAP.

> >

> >

[Guest guest]

Kerrie,

You said, “I don't often think she's ever looked at me as a real live

human being.” Uh huh. I’m a projection, an appendage, doormat, bother,

problem, ungrateful, bad, . . .

You “hated putting on the polyester that itched.” I can’t talk much about

this; it’s too restimulating. My nada LOVED putting wool clothing

directly on my skin. Too afraid to say anything, I suffered . . . When

it was cold, OMG, the itching . . . excruciatingly uncomfortable. It’s no

wonder I couldn’t concentrate in class or enjoy being with my FOO, even on

the rare occasions when they behaved healthfully. I’m sure there must’ve

been some such occasions. I just don’t remember any . . .

All these posts about the physical discomforts we’ve experienced at the

hands of our BP parents reminds me of some very unpleasant ideas about it.

It is sadistic behavior. It is evil. It’s projecting their anger about

the similar or same discomforts THEY experienced onto us. The victim

becomes the perpetrator in an ego-satisfying power reversal.

To this day, I am much more aware of my surroundings and comfort level

than most people. Some of the survival-technique hypervigilance is still

in me. PTSS qualities. Sometimes, I can put it to good use. More often,

it’s a problem on which I’m still working. I’m trying to avoid those and

other kinds of discomforts. Would you believe that, fortunately, I notice

a lot LESS of such things than I used to?

One Non-BP Recovering Man

--- Kerrie wrote:

> I remember a joke in elementary school where you take your hands on

> both uppersides of your face and pull your skin back towards your

> ears and your eyes start squinting and you say 'mommy tied my

> pigtails too tight'. I could actually relate to it sometimes.

>

> Speaking of nadas and hair, do you remember those first blowdryers,

> the pre-handheld types? Those were so funky and they've still got

> them in some salons- the big half egg shaped ones that would come

> down over your head and you'd sit inside it waiting for your hair to

> dry? I totally remember those w/nada shoving me up in there to dry my

> hair whilest sitting on a stack of phonebooks. No complaints really

> and I suppose that's what should be done in the middle of winter to

> dry a kid's hair and make sure they don't get sick, but often times I

> thought nada was also showing off the coolest technology or like she

> thought at those moments like I was a little princess or something-

> not her daughter or a person, but like a little doll. In fact I don't

> often think she's ever looked at me as a real live human being. I

> always had the prettiest clothes from childhood and yet I definitely

> remember some of the pictures from childhood where I looked so pretty

> and yet was sucking up the tears b/c another proverbial brush beating

> in the photography studio's ready room b/c I hated wearing dresses

> and hated putting on the polyster that itched. Of course she knew on

> those days to make sure to slap me on my legs above the trim line of

> the dress so that it wouldn't show in the picture. Must look perfect.

> So many of those perfect pictures from childhood though. If only as

> much energy was put into real life as was put into the preparation of

> a photo shoot (both of my parents were photographers by the way- my

> dad was professional and my nada was a hobby and really not that good

> at it the older she got) then I'm thinking she really could've been a

> more sane and happy woman.

>

> Alas, fun childhood memories. Tongue in cheek.

> K

>

> > >

> > > Oh yes ladies--the unnecessarily painful " hair management " and

> hair

> > > sabotage. Mine did the the no-conditioner-then-painful-combing,

> all

> > > the while bitterly complaining about my " bad hair. " The braids

> > were so

> > > tight my scalp would hurt--maybe one reason I hated them so. And

> ah

> > > yes, the brush-slap.

> > >

> > > Flea

> > >

> >

>

>

>

>

>

__________________________________________________

[Guest guest]

Non,

Yes, I can believe you are noticing a lot less of these things as

that seems a product of you becoming healthy and moving on w/your

life dispite a bad childhood. By the way, I know you responded to my

other post about Dr.'s book, 'Bad Childhood, Good Life'. I just

finished reading it and it was SOOOOO unbelievably awesome. Turns out

she is definitely a KO and speaks w/much experience and depth and

feeling in this book. She said of all the seven books she's ever

written, this is the first one where she literally got choked up when

she wrote the last line in the book. She then went on to explain how

she could speak so much of this topic b/c she's living proof of how

to survive a bad childhood. She didn't get too deep into the details

but apparently when she was younger in her career her nada helped her

out at the office as a receptionist and drove everyone crazy though

Dr. kept her mother employeed b/c of an 'obligation' she felt

towards her. She then asked her mother/nada to take a class in typing

on her dime and her nada stormed out of her life for good and never

talked to her again. Next time she ever heard from her nada was when

the police called to tell her she'd been dead for a few months. Ouch.

Of course the media attacked Dr. for 'abandoning' her mother the

same way as many people attacked Crawford for

writing 'Mommy Dearest', but Dr. just kind of chaulked it up

to 'well she made my life hell when she was alive. Why would I expect

her not to screw w/me in the after life.' Her approach is remarkable

and she does look at the picture of her life and the abuse she

survived in positive ways such as she may not have been such a go

getter had she had a more normal set of parents (sounds like her dad

was very much an NPD also when she describes him and his family is

DEFINITELY bp w/disowning him and Dr.'s mom and family). Like a

lot of people she poured all her efforts into recovering from her

dysfunctional childhood and FOO into her studies and career. Luckily

it was a career in counseling and psychotherapy and she took what she

learned to her core to make a new path for her marriage and her

children. She does attack pop psychology for going so much into

feeling and not enough into accountability for actions and as a

fellow KO I can definitely appreciate that one. Anyway, just wanted

to share that tidbit w/you. Its definitely an awesome book for a KO

to have on their shelves. In fact I think I'm going to email Randi

about it b/c it does touch on so many 'gettting over a borderline'

issues.

By the way, the torture part really hit home w/one pp's response

about picking out so called splinters w/a needle. Man, that's just so

messed up and yet I'm sure I had several things like that in my

childhood. Sometimes when I feel that sicko sadism from the way I was

raised coming out towards my helpless children I just go on the crazy

mom binge meaning that particular day we get to do whatever we want.

For example instead of me acting like a borderline from the urge I

feel b/c of crap blueprint, I just decide today is a good day for

scream therapy (not screaming at them, but w/them and then laughing).

Or maybe its a good time to throw them on the bed and jump up and

down. It gets the aggression out as well as makes them laugh and me

laugh and that's the only thing I can think to do when that sadistic

side rears its ugly head. I just prefer to quit being the adult and

act like a juvenille kid or 'crazy' mom. At least I know I'm crazy at

that point and I want my kids to remember mom's a little crazy vs me

being a barbarian towards them like my nada was. That's the only

coping mechanism I've got right now though perhaps I'll develop

another one some day. I actually think it works really well though

for pent up energy and frustration- a divergence away from the evil

and more into a controlled insanity. My brother and I use to have fun

doing that growing up- just being freaks. I don't mind being known as

a freak, KWIM? I do mind being known as a nada. In fact I kind of

hope my kids don't think I'm normal, but really rather weird and

unique and fun that way they can have fun too and maybe from seeing

me go freaky when I'm built up they'll also learn to get that way

too. Actually my oldest one is already a bit of a clown so I wouldn't

be surprised if he's like a stand-up comedian some day or something.

I admit though that it does scare me when those 'emotions' come up

and the urges. Its so much a part of my past and rarely comes up

anymore (was big time in high school and early twenties. I was a bit

of a bp if you ask me- or at least heavily flea infested). Its like I

think 'well this is still here. It seems it will never go away fully.

I'll just do what I did w/my brother when we were built up w/meaness

and didn't want to hurt each other.' Does this make sense? I never

have thoughts of actually huring my kids- its more like this ugly

thing I've been wired to be like rearing its head from my past and I

have to be conscious that its not me today and that I need to protect

my kids while still engaging them and so we just go nuts that day. I

thought of that today though when my two year old and I got into a

scream hysteria. He was screaming at me for something he wanted and

it was getting on my very last nerve and I was about to snap at him

and spank him (which I never do and am highly averse to doing- I hate

spankings) and then I thought 'hey, I'm the parent now. I make the

rules now. I'm the adult and what I say goes just like nada always

said and what goes now is more screaming.' And so I screamed back and

laughed and he just starts cracking up as its so NOT the adult thing

to do- to mimic the child in screaming and yet it destresses him by

putting his own emotions in proper perspective and it destresses me

b/c I really do want to scream at him and well its just fun to scream

sometimes. Its not fun, however, to scream AT people or hit people

and our son is really good about when he wants to scream at people

he'll go to the corner and just scream and cry for like thirty

seconds or more. Its so awesome as he knows its okay to be mad and

its okay if he needs to scream. Its just not okay to scream at others

in the house and we're really good about following that rule too.

Anyway, I do think the further you grow away from the FOO and the

healthier you get, the less you dwell on these things and the less

they interfere w/your daily life. The fact Dr. went nc w/her

nada really helps me also say 'hey its okay' and I also see you w/the

rare contact and you're very healthy from what I've seen you post. I

just have realized lately I can't change the past. I can't change a

nada. I can only change myself and I've been doing that for a long

time and lately in getting really healthy I see just how crazy she is

and that its okay to let go. No FOG anymore.

Kerrie

> > > >

> > > > Oh yes ladies--the unnecessarily painful " hair management "

and

> > hair

> > > > sabotage. Mine did the the no-conditioner-then-painful-

combing,

> > all

> > > > the while bitterly complaining about my " bad hair. " The

braids

> > > were so

> > > > tight my scalp would hurt--maybe one reason I hated them so.

And

> > ah

> > > > yes, the brush-slap.

> > > >

> > > > Flea

> > > >

> > >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

>

>

> __________________________________________________

>

[Guest guest]

Wow...hi all. I'm new so bear w/me. I haven't quite caught on to all

the abbreviations yet.

Anyway...several stories:

1. I had pretty pervasive acne from the time I was nine. My nada

picked my face constantly and then took me to a dermatologist who

put me on amoxicillin (which I stayed on for years -- now only a Z-

pak will cure any infections I get) and gave me a bunch of super

drying creams. My skin got a little better, but my mom still picked

at me constantly. Her justification was that her mother did it to

her and my uncle. Then she would make me pop the zits on her back.

Later on in young adulthood, I would pick my boyfriends' zits. I now

can't believe I thought that was a " normal " thing to do. Finally I

took Accutane, while I was living with my bio-dad and stepmom.

Accutane makes you extremely dry and thus causes you to break out a

lot at first. My nada, of course, was convinced that I was breaking

out because I was using too much moisturizer and convinced my bio-

dad to take away all my moisturizers. I bought some in secret and

kept them in my room. It wasn't until I was about 20 that I told my

mom she couldn't pick my face anymore. She got kind of huffy about

it, but she still asks me to pop the zits on her back sometimes. Ew.

2. Hair, oh Lord, Hair. My hair is naturally curly. When I was about

2-3, my hair would get very tangled and my nada would savagely comb

it w/o using detangler or anything. It was so painful that I would

throw fits every time she would come near me with a comb. Of course

her response to this was that I was a horrible child. One day she

got so enraged that I wouldn't let her comb it that she said, " If

you don't let me comb your hair, I'm going to take you to the barber

and have your hair cut off like a boy's. " I looked up at her and

said, " When do we go? " Of course we just got it cut a few inches

shorter. Later on when I was in elementary school my hair went

straight and then in middle school it turned into this weird kink.

My mom insisted on blowing my hair straight every few days, but we

didn't have round brushes or flat irons then, so it would be very

painful and hot and it would come out looking like a huge 'fro. I

was always embarrassed, but she insisted that it be straight.

Finally when I was a teenager it turned back into a proper curl and

she left me alone.

I could go on and on about clothes... Maybe I'll save that for

another post.

Liz