Barry Wood I have a big package for you Christmas ornament

Once she almost hit me over the Barry Wood I have a big package for you Christmas ornament Besides,I will do this head with a ceramic plate. She only stopped cause I called her out on it and brought her back to her senses cause even my ~8 year old self knew that was extreme. I know parents are supposed to “spank” your butt or what not when their kids misbehave but she would hit us for no real reason. One occasion I remember clearly: my sis wanted to weigh these two picture frames that were placed above my mother’s bed so when we placed the frames back my sis left one crooked. I was laying on the floor watching tv when my mother got home and saw what horrible thing we had done. She came at me with a pair of pants telling me my sister ratted me out that I had left the frame crooked (yes, my sis threw me under the bus, but what could you expect from a scared 7 year old. Once she was done using the pants she started punching my arm so that I could snitch on my sister too, and of course I did, to stop her punches. To this day I still can’t believe how absurd she was about the frames. Weight was another issue as I grew up because it has always been important to my mom. Fat=Ugly in my mom’s world. She made us believe we were fat when we def were not. She liked to call me ‘tres barrigas’ which means ‘three bellies’ and just engraved in my brain that I was fat and made me feel horrible about it. Never thought someone could like me for the way I looked if not even my mom liked the way I looked. It really damaged my self-esteem, which I continue to struggle with to this day. I still have no confidence in myself since my social skills are shit. I was never allowed to question her since she made me feel dumb for asking them, which played a huge role in my experience in school and college. I never understood why I disliked raising my hand and felt like asking a question was the end of the world. Why was it so uncomfortable to be put on the spot? My damn mother always snapped at us when we asked questions. It would always turn into a fight and made me scared to ask questions in any situation. Made me believe people were gonna laugh at my question and think I’m stupid. I’m still struggling with asking questions but at least I’m aware and am working on it.

Barry Wood I have a big package for you Christmas ornament, hoodie, tank top, sweater and long sleeve t-shirt

Even her own family. We couldn’t pay attention to others or else we didn’t lover her. My mother couldn’t understand that I had a best friend so she once asked me in an insulting tone if I was a lesbian since we hung out all the Barry Wood I have a big package for you Christmas ornament Besides,I will do this time. She never had that type of friendship so of course her mind leads her to believe I’m gay. So one day, since I had been going to my bffs house after school almost everyday (her neighborhood was across from mine) my mom took away my going out privileges and put strict rules on me— I was in 6th grade. I was now only allowed to go out on the weekends but not really. If I got invited to do something on both weekend days I had to choose what to do cause if I went out Saturday I couldn’t go out Sunday cause l “already went out” and “isn’t that enough?” She also placed unreasonable curfews and we had to be back home on the fucking dot. If we were even 1 minute late she would ground us. Since she was always so restricting it kind of made my sis and I not wanna go out cause sometimes it was such a hassle to get permission. My mother just wanted us to always be home, even if she wasn’t home. Fortunately, she had no problem having my friends over so my house was always the hang out place. That really helped.We had to think like her, dress to her taste, and do things exactly the way she did them. We were not allowed to question her since what she said was absolute. She needed us to depend on her or else she would have nothing. She needed to feel important and be at the center of everything. If you disagreed with her opinions then she felt attacked and would start a huge fight that ended with her saying that we “hate her” and that she should just die yes she’d go super dark. She was always the victim. Nothing was ever her fault. You could not say no to my mom. If she asked you to do her a favor, it wasn’t really a question. Just a formality cause she expected us to say yes and not refuse. We could never win with her.