After my mother was back home from the hospital I became her helper. I was more helpful than my older brother and my mother started relaying more on me. After some time I started understanding that I was the one doing all the work, my brother was out playing. I began rebelling.
Few months thereafter the nice people started butting in. The nice people consist of our neighbours (who never saw what went on inside the flat) and my mothers friends.
The nice people told me that I had to help my mother more, that I was this old (13, 14, 15…) and could surely help my mother more. I have no idea where they got the idea of me being difficult from. Possibly my mother told them when she went visiting or they just thought it was their duty to tell me. Each of these "sessions" went on under my mother´s nose. She never said a word in my defence.
Every time I would argue these people. I tried very hard to make them understand that I wasn't an only child, that I did have a brother who was three years older than I. None listened
I remember this one time when I had followed my mother to her neighbour (I trotted behind her everywhere she went). The neighbour started telling me to help my mom more. She wouldn't listen when I spoke my usual argument of not being an only child and told me that when she was a kid she had to take over the house when her mother fell ill. She had had an older brother aswell but still the responsibility fell on her. That woman is 36 years older than me. I tried to argue that things ought to change, equality of the sexes and all that. It was ignored. Because her childhood was stolen it was ok that mine was aswell.
Another time I remember. I was at home, don't remember what I was doing. Suddenly the door phone rings and when I answer it it´s a neighbour. He said something about my mother coming home. I said ok and didn't do a thing. Few minutes afterwards he was at the door really angry that I hadnt gone downstairs to help my mother. In his mind I was supposed to be waiting for her. At his urging (since I was a polite child) I went to her and walked with her.
That man had no idea what he was on about. I knew my mother´s capabilities better than anyone. I knew she could walk into the house without my help.
Once I even got an angry lecture from my brother for not helping my mother inside the house. We had gone somewhere shopping and I went ahead to bring the bags. He obiviously didn't know what she was able to do on her own.
My mother couldn't take a bath on her own. When it happened she couldn't get a help to do it (which was few times) it was expected I do it. I always did but I dreaded it. At age 20 I finally broke up when it was expected I take care of bathing her for few weeks. I was so ashaimed for doing it. I felt I was telling my mother I couldn't stand her body.
The very idea of bathing her felt to me like sexual abuse. I did not want to see her that way but I had no way of refusing.
In my 13th year I had my first bout of anorexia. It lasted only half a day but the seed had found a fertile ground. I remember not wanting to be a burden to anyone. I desided what I would eat each day, I had no idea of calories at that time.
I went into the kitchen, made two slices of bread and ate them. I washed everything after I had used it and returned to my room. It felt right. This time however greed won. I was thinking about my favorite chips and finally went out and got some.
It was only few months ago I started thinking. All the times I was told I wasn't doing enough to help my mother. How difficult I was for her when I was refusing to do what I was asked. When I was 14 she was threatening to have me removed from my home. These threats continued untill the day I told her I would never talk to her again if she did. Sometimes I wish she would have acted on that, maybe then some of my childhood would´ve been spared.
Sometimes I want to talk to my "tormentors". Tell them: "Thank you for telling me I was bad. I assure you that even if I´m grown now the punishment is still going on. I think I´m so bad and so filthy. I have an eating disorder, it´s may way of punishing myself. I have also self injured and tried to kill myself so that I would no longer be here to trouble you. Thank you all"
Problem is, I don't know which one treated me bad and which one didn't. I cant bear the thought of accusing one of those who did in fact treat me well. Often I´ve imagined making my story public somehow. If I don't tell them they´ll never know. As far as they´re conserned I´m a well adjusted person, have a good job and a good life.
I do not blaim them, they were doing what they thought was right, the nice people. I can forgive them that, but I want them to know, I want them to know what it is I´m forgiving them.
