This is currently a meditations post. I will reorganize it more logically to make sense at a later date.
I used to get to pick where to eat. That was one of the common events. And every time, I managed to pick wrong. He'd tell me I could pick anywhere I wanted, then, as soon as I did "well except there! What kind of idiot would pick there to eat in the first place?!" The same was true of picking out toys when there were different types, such as electronics. I remember wanting a pink and blue handheld CD player when I was maybe 7, and he called me every name in the book, and my choice a ridiculous waste of money, because there was one that would play better quality and hold up better that was plain grey and black. I should've gotten that one.
But so many of those things, he was right about. It was a bad idea to get a CD player for aesthetics. It's more the way he went about it. The red in the face, vein popping yelling he did about these things. I was a child and I wanted pretty things. And that made him so mad. It's not that he told me mcdonalds wasn't a good meal every night, or that I should get something that works rather than something that's pretty, it's that he yelled at me, implicitly called me stupid and an idiot, and that he made me feel like I wasn't worthwhile.
I was spanked. It was pretty hard, but it wasn't common. It was usually for particularly dangerous things, like the time I crossed a road with only a 7 year old when I was 6. It made me feel pretty miserable, but I generally accepted it as a fact of life.
I don't know. I don't think these things are bad enough to count as abuse. They instilled in me a sense of helplessness, and a reluctance to make choices. They made me second guess my every decision in a relationship, and made me feel like one wrong move can change me from just being Brittany to being some total idiot who can't say anything worth listening to.
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