Corporal punishment continued throughout my childhood, and it didn’t stop until I lived in high school.
At that time, my mother beat me every three days and hit me every five days, from being sued by the teacher to coming home late, regardless of the reason, the way and the place.
The most fun time was a women’s singles in junior high school.
Forgive me for using the word “fun”, I still can’t walk into that night peacefully, so much so that I can only isolate my feelings and occasionally dream back to that night from a third-person perspective to look at the young and helpless me.
That night, the little girl who was not very obedient was called by the teacher because she whispered to her table mate in class, so that the mother had a cold face and did not say a word on the way home.
When she got home, the mother found a steel needle to knit a sweater and pressed the little girl to the single sofa and stabbed it hard, first on the arms, then on the thighs and, of course, on the buttocks.
The little girl cried and shouted, oh yes, and kept apologizing, but it was all useless, and no one came to save her.
I have to say that this lady’s spirit seems to be a little problematic, and when she saw the blood spots on the little girl’s body that were stabbed by her, she suddenly hugged the little girl tightly as if she was a different person, crying and apologizing to her.
She begged the little girl to forgive her, and asked the little girl to write a letter of guarantee that she would not make mistakes in the future, and the little girl remembered her words clearly, “As long as you don’t make mistakes, I won’t beat you, so don’t force me.” ”
Yes, my mother has always been like this, loving me, but the way of love is torture.
When I was in elementary school, my mother gave up her career and returned to the family.
After finding out that my father was cheating, my mother often vented her resentment and resentment to me, and she often said to me, “If it weren’t for you, I would have divorced a long time ago.”
As a daughter, I can understand her situation to some extent.
Understand her division, understand her incompetence, understand that she has no way to take my dad, so she can only pour all the anger that can’t be vented on my head.
So I learned to forgive her, in fact, I have a good relationship with her now, since I was a child, I have forgiven her countless times, but at the price, I can never learn to forgive myself again.
I forgot why I was beaten and scolded again, but I remember standing in the bedroom door and being hit in the nose with a tin can for badminton that my mother threw from the living room. I didn’t notice the bright red nosebleeds, my mother frowned and handed me a tissue and asked me why I didn’t hide, well, it was my fault again.
When I was eleven years old, a little girl came to me when I squatted down to tie my shoes and whispered in my ear, “xxx, you’re a big stupid pig”, I cried and ran home to cry to my mother, and she looked disdainful, “She said you are you, right?” Can you not be so vulnerable? Yes? ”
Well, or my fault.
In the end, I learned an unforgettable truth, that is, everything is my fault, scold me and endure it, beat me next to me, and then keep silent.
After I went to college, my boyfriend saw that I couldn’t unscrew the bottle cap and wanted to take it over to help me open it, but I refused; Because my dormitory was far away from the express station, he said he could help me get it, but I refused; Going out on a date he said he helped me with the backpack, but I refused; He said he wanted to accompany me when he went to compete in other provinces, but I refused. After refusing many times, he couldn’t help but speak:
“You can try to rely on me, and there are some things that don’t always take care of yourself, because it will make me feel useless and feel like I’ll never fit into your life. What exactly can I do for you? ”
I remember looking him in the eye and saying to him for no reason, “Scold me, hit me.” ”
I don’t know why I have such thoughts, it stands to reason that I have been educated by my mother for so long, and finally left for college in another country, I should get rid of the nightmare and live independently, but, for some reason, the wound in my heart never seems to heal.
My boyfriend was frightened and thought I had a serious illness, and I really didn’t feel dependent, so it didn’t take long for him to break up with me.
I thought about it for a long time on the night of the breakup, and it seemed that I figured it out a little.
Growing up, my mother loved me and tore me apart, and this way of love has been carved into my flesh and blood, whether I like it or not.
So the love I am familiar with, the love I have been exposed to, the love I deserve to have, is not to help me twist the cap of the bottle and help me carry my school bag, but – scold me, beat me, ravage me, and break me.
I started looking for dom on the web.
At first, I thought that Dom’s femdom would help me heal, and if someone told me that in his eyes I was not that useless broken rose, but the cutest and dearest little guy, maybe my wounds would be healed.
But whenever the DOM and I practice, my heart is not happy, but always ignites a flame, and the name of that flame is – resistance.
As an intj, my behavior is often understood as brat, and even for a while I thought so.
Until one time, the dom at that time didn’t like my lip studs, felt that it was very unsuitable for his aesthetics, and asked me to remove it, but I refused, which was my beloved thing at that time.
So he was going to punish me for breaking the rules and give me a sp.
For some reason, maybe he didn’t hit hard enough, and my mind was pulled back to when I was a child.
When I was a child, my mother wouldn’t let me eat snacks or toys, and after seeing an aunt’s sister with a talking doll, I wanted it, and my mother said that a perfect score on the final exam would satisfy me. Fortunately, I studied well at that time, and I got two perfect marks in three exams, and I got a talking doll.
The doll is called Doris and it was my favorite toy when I was a child.
But I haven’t played with her much since I bought it, because my mom refused to install the battery in order to let me play with her less, and kept it in a big box, so I could only poke her face through the transparent plastic film of the package and touch her hand, so that she was still brand new after buying it for a long time.
Later, because I always talked to the doll, my mother was angry and wanted to give it away. At that time, I had a big temper with my mother, it was obviously my doll, and I worked hard to learn Zhengda Guangming to get it back! I haven’t played with her a few times! She’s going to send her away!!
Of course, my protest was invalid, and my mother’s words were a rule that could not be violated.
I remember very well that night when I secretly pulled out Doris and said to her, “Let’s run away from home together!” Otherwise, you’ll be sent away tomorrow! ”
Naturally, Doris didn’t respond, and I clutched a bag stuffed with a few clothes, hesitated back and forth, and finally cowardly returned to bed, and then watched Doris being sent away the next day.
But the moment I was dom sp, I remembered what I was going to say at that time! I remembered it all word for word—
“Fuck the rules. Give me back my stuff. ”
I didn’t shout, I didn’t cry or cry, I just spoke very calmly.
Then I stood up on my own and picked up the lip studs, leaving Dom with a confused expression.
I touched my butt and asked him for a cigarette.
Fifteen years ago, I couldn’t have mustered up the courage to say “Give Doris back” anyway, but 15 years later, in the same situation, I was amazed that I could say it as I wanted this time and walk away in style.
When I was a child, I watched Kezhou begging for a sword, and I thought this person was so stupid. How could he not know that the sword had fallen into the water in the middle of the river, and when it reached the shore, it could not be found by following the scale? But he still jumped into the water from the scale, so stupid, so stupid.
When I grew up, I realized that in the long river of time, countless people jumped down over and over again according to a certain node that had been carved, trying to find what they had lost, and I was just one of them.
I finally understood that the reason I wanted to find the DOM was not for enjoyment, but for rebellion.
In order to relive the scene of being tortured as a child again and again, and then say to the countless doms transformed into “mothers” – my life is up to me, not you.
The Doms say I’m “wild”, but only I know – I’m standing on a time boat, plunging into the water again and again, hoping to find the sword of Damocles that can cut through the past and confusion.
Please wish me good luck, guys.