What I have become, She Made Me!

Growing up with a “Gaslighting Mother”.

I am not sure again, whether the whole concept of marriage sits well with me.

My boyfriend is a wonderful man who works hard and has begun making arrangements to move in with me. However, I’m not sure if I’m ready for a permanent relationship or even if I want to be married.

Domestic abuse was a daily occurrence in my childhood home, where I witnessed my parents fight. One of the most common things I witnessed growing up was my mother crying and swearing the day she met my father. My father was a man consumed by his demons, and I never liked him because my mother had instilled a hatred towards him in us.

They did not separate, they stayed together, fighting every day till we grew up and went our respective ways as children, my father left later.

My Senior Sister left home early, she got pregnant and left, she didn’t come back because she said she didn’t want her child growing up around a toxic grandmother, my Mum hated her for that, and when she gave birth, my Mum never visited her, but my Father did.

Well, being independent came in late for me, because my mother was that dictator, she put the fear of men and boys in me, and she told me of how I could easily become like my sister or other girls around whom she believed were promiscuous, and which had led them to giving birth without husbands, she also made sure I joined all the groups in the church, I knew they called me “Busy Body” behind my back, what they didn’t know was that, I was being forced to do all these things, I was being forced to serve the Lord by my mother who was part of the leadership of the Women’s Fellowship, in all that, she could never bring her husband to church, but she was on the committee that prepped ladies who were getting ready to be wedded, the irony!.

For my younger sister, I shielded her from my mother when I went to the university, I got to know who was destroying the family when I reached the university, I was in UDS in Wa, so I was far away from home in Accra, I was sad leaving my sister with my mother, she had already brainwashed her just like she had done to me and my elderly sister, but you know, she had a stubborn spirit I didn’t have growing up, she resisted commands, she refused to join groups in the church, she stole from the sales my mother made from the market and sends me some, she spoke back at her, she was and still a lioness. My younger sister’s resilience woke up a flair in me, so when I came home for vacations, I shielded her, I defended her from everything, whether good or bad, but reprimanded her when we were alone, my Mum saw that as disrespectful, she accused my elderly sister of successfully polluting us, she also said the university was turning me to a worldly person because she thought I was holy, she didn’t understand why I posted certain things on my status, how I dressed, the color of my lipstick was even criticized until I muted her.

She always gave us money for everything, school fees, chop money, everything, we didn’t call our dad for anything, you don’t dare do that, we didn’t even call him, he called to check up on us, at least once a month or twice, he checked our academic performance, but I always had some hatred for him, I always wanted to yell at him for pushing my mother and for making her cry and curse. For my Mother, apart from us calling her to negotiate for chop money and other expenses, she didn’t care how much I fared academically, she’ll normally end the call by saying, “If you want don’t study hard and concentrate on unnecessary things” and that statement was always like a knife through the heart.

My sister was doing well in her business, kept in touch with my father, and bought him gifts. Later, when I reached Level 300, my sister told me that all the money my mother had sent me came from my father and not from our mother. She explained everything to me and made me feel ashamed for detesting the man. My elderly sister had advised me to stop listening to my mother because she was a bad influence.

By the time I reached Level 200, I had already begun to explore. when I entered my first real relationship, it was working well till I realized I exhibited my mother’s character to my boyfriend, I started fights, insulted him and stayed all night crying and cursing, the very first time I allowed him to touch my private parts was the first time I made any other guy do so, and that was the very day I broke my virginity, I was in for everything, it wasn’t his first time having sex, so he did a real good job on me, I wanted it, I wanted to have sex too, and I did, but guess who made herself a victim of “You broke my virginity”, I reminded him of that every time we had any issue, even though sex became our daily bread, I always reminded him that he broke my virginity as if he forced himself on, I abused him mentally without knowing until one day, he left and never came back, I cried for weeks and swore to stay off men.

Shortly after, I entered into another relationship with a nice guy. This time, however, I treated him badly at every chance, used sex as a form of blackmail to make him feel guilty, and when he finally had enough, he ended things too. At that point, I made the decision to never get into another relationship again because I believed that all men were the same. Sure, all men are the same, but guess who was hoeing and fucking guys who smiled at her? Me!

My mother had left my life for me after school, and I didn’t care about her. My younger sister had moved out to live with my older sister, and my father was still his silent man, saying very little. I soon realized that this was not him fighting demons; rather, he was a man of few words, always at home when not at work. However, my father was accused of every possible cardinal sin a man could be accused of by a wife without any evidence, which made him feel less of a man. I was sad because I didn’t know how to make up for him. Instead of moving out, I stayed in the house to try to mend our relationship, and it worked until one day, he left. He picked up some things and returned to his father’s village, where he started commercial farming. We visit him as his children to be with him occasionally, and it was his proudest and happiest moment and still is.

But me? I don’t know how to keep a man without using phrases and adjectives my mother used to describe my father, The words come out willingly and effortlessly and I don’t know how or when to control them. Immediately, I rile up, I move into attack position, and I tear him to pieces, then forget all that I had said, and when they remind me of what I had said, I only say “I didn’t say that," knowing very well that I did. I have been with different people in different relationships and arrangements, and they always leave. I have never left a relationship because all the men I have been with are good; I can count about four of whom were potential husbands, but I identify the little mistakes and exaggerate them, and I destroy the relationship with hurtful words and adjectives.

As I stand now, I don’t know what to do. I need men just as I need sex. I don’t know how to keep men because of what I am: a destroyer. I don’t even trust mothers again; I am scared of destroying this current relationship. I have already disrespected him in various ways, and I don’t want to imprison him in a marriage he’ll regret, I feel like speaking up, talking to someone, making my situation known, and making outbursts, but then I still have to speak up. And Yes, I’m speaking to a Therapist.

Writer’s Commentary

The story presented depicts a profoundly intimate and affective journey, characterized by the enduring consequences of a turbulent upbringing and strained familial relationships. Growing up in a home where domestic violence was commonplace has had a big influence on how you see marriage and relationships. It makes sense that your interactions and expectations in romantic relationships have been affected by seeing your mother’s troubles and internalizing her unfavorable opinions of men.

The narrative emphasizes how trauma is cyclical and how it frequently shows up subtly in behavior. Even though you are aware of the harmful habits you received from your mother, it is proving to be quite difficult to break free from them. It’s admirable that you are going to therapy to work through these problems; this is a critical first step on the road to recovery and ending the pattern.

People struggle to be trustworthy and maintain positive relationships. They’re plagued by the worry of returning to the way things were and maybe hurting their current partner. Your mixed emotions toward your parents, particularly the realization of your mother’s and father’s roles, have recently exacerbated this worry.

To the Readers

What are some practical ways for people who grew up in toxic families and witnessed domestic abuse to escape the cycle and build wholesome, trustworthy relationships as adults? What actions may be taken to break through deeply rooted behavioral patterns and lay the groundwork for a committed and loving relationship?

Narrated by: Equa

Written by: Danny Biitka