My Abuse

March 18, 1987: One of the reasons keeping me in Argentina is child abuse. My mother started calling me all sorts of horrible names shortly after my brother was born. I was about 6 years old and I would cringe each time she would come near me. I was a useless little girl, I was no good to anyone. The only quiet moments I'd get were when I had to go to school. She couldn't go there with me and I'd feel safe. I wonder if she was suffering from postnatal depression.
Emotional abuse was an unheard of thing in those days. It must have existed, but nobody talked about it. How many little girls my age and younger got the same type of emotional beating I did? How many hated to go back home when their school day was over? My classmates all seemed happy, well-adjusted little girls with parents who loved each other.
I think that being abused emotionally can be worse (or just as bad) as having somebody beat you up because you did something naughty. It hurts your soul and ruins your self-esteem.