I remember my mother series: 2. My very first traumatic experience.

I was watching a segment on Bebe GandangHari (formerly Rustom Padilla) on a TV show recently. There he gave details on his very first traumatic experience as a child, and how that experience stuck to his head and affected the way he is while growing up. He told the interviewer that he was only 3 years old at that time and he suffered physical violence at the hands of his father. His mother then just allowed his father to beat him. He was so young and yet he still remembers it vividly.

OMG. I can totally relate to this. I also had my very first traumatic experience with my mother while I was around that age like BB. This experience I still so remember vividly.

I remember I was being scolded by my mother because I could not write the letter X properly in my name. (pauses to hold back the tears...). I tried my best, but I still cannot get my writing to be correct.
Then she started to shout and yell at me. She was holding my hands while I was writing. She started writhing and squeezing my hand. I was in pain. She started cursing me, like (p*t*ng ina mo... and other obscenities.) I was just 3 years old.

I remember I cried. But this only made her more furious. (pauses to hold back the tears...). She took a leather belt, and then she started whipping me with it. She said that if I cry, she will whip me more. Tears just flow from my eyes. I could not help it. She started whipping me harder. It was painful. I had rashes in my legs and back after that. I was only 3 years old. I remember my father being there behind us all that time. He was just observing what was happening. While being whipped by my mother, I looked at him and my eyes pleaded for help. My mother got angrier. She whipped me harder. My father just nodded at me as if he was silently approving of my mother's violence. I did not even get help from him. He just sat there and did nothing. I was traumatized. (pauses to let the tears fall). I was still trying my best to write the letter X on paper. At every mistake, I get a whip lash from the leather belt. I hear more curses. Tears get to fall from my eyes uncontrollably. And then, the whip lash gets harder. I mustered all my strength there to hold back the tears. No one was there to help me. No one was there to feel for me.

After what seemed like forever, I finally got to write my name correctly on paper. The cursing stopped. The whipping stopped. But I did not get any congratulations or any sort of affection for my effort. I never felt my mother regretted hurting me. I was still crying at that time. But I was crying from the inside. From then onwards, I had a very different view of my mother and my father. I became scared to cry even when I have to. Things will never be the same for me again.