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Tiffany Loudermilk's avatar

I don't have very many memories of my childhood, but my mom likes to tell a story about how we were loading the car to go somewhere and she slammed her hand in the door. It hurt, obviously, but I was standing on the porch, and had no idea what to do. I could see Mom was hurt and angry and I didn't go to help her. She tells it like a cautionary tale - that's when she knew I was truly defiant, with a hard heart. I remember feeling confused and scared. When mom was mad, it was usually at me, and meant a spanking. I was a kid and knew I wouldn't be able to help her, so I stayed where I wouldn't be in the way or get the raw end of her anger. How was I to know that I was supposed to go offer sympathy and condolences to a grown-up in pain? I grew up believing I didn't have any compassion thanks to that story. I literally spent years of my young adult life "learning" how to be compassionate (aka giving myself permission to feel emotions about hard things and recognizing my inmate empathetic instinct.)

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Shelley Ross's avatar

I found a letter my mother wrote to her mother. She wrote it like I was the one speaking. I was under 2 at the time because my brother hadn’t been born yet. She talked about how I kept touching the magazines that were on a table and that I knew I shouldn’t do it or I would get a “spanking”. It was written like a funny story of her life as a mother. It made me sick to my stomach. I think a lot of us were being physically disciplined before the age of 2. I can’t imagine what my body had been thru and how much it has affected my mental and physical health. I thought it was normal.

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