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Domestic Abuse the Generational Curse that may pass on to Mother and Son

As a foster parent, I not only knew the risk of taking in kids with behavior issues, but I lived it. From my basement being doused with gasoline, bathroom smeared with feces to being told by a teen that they would kill me in my sleep. I was aware, but not emotionally prepared for all that came within the cute, lovable packages, not even my own. My biological children were reasonably easy to raise, spoiled, but I didn’t have any significant issues outside of the norm, such as do your homework or no allowance.
Over the years, I made friends with other women who fostered special needs children who had the same behaviors or worse. I have a close friend and her husband, who fostered one 11-year-old male and called it quits in 90 days. We aren’t given a parenting manual about our own children, so you can only imagine how it can be within a system that needs more of everyone. I went in not fully knowledgable on specific behaviors, didn’t know if it was just the kid’s DNA or the parents. It took for me to get one of the best seasoned social workers before I stopped taking in children to be apart of a support group to get a better understanding, but it’s very complicated with many levels. Oh, let me add take a look at my own childhood as well as my bio children to finally get some “thick skin” as my former social worker told me to stop crying and feeling like a failure as far as being a foster parent. It took for my kids to grow up for me to question where the hell did I go wrong. If you ask my family, especially my sister she would say “Before you went and grabbed all those kids you worked too much, and when you took in those damn kids they took away time from your kids because you were running around trying to get them in therapy or sleeping with one eye open.” All that and then some forced me to get therapy for myself. I also joined a parenting group for all kinds of parents. We need support and now more than ever with this coronavirus madness and lack of services.
I have been hearing, well reading about Parents, be it biological or foster seeking help a child with special needs, but more so on the behavioral and mental health side for preteens to young adults. Parents such as myself venting about their past or current experience with children with behavior and mental health issues. I’m more so trying to stay connected with my older adopted girls who are now over 18 years old, in their own places, and social worker free, so there’s no use for me. But I’m also seeking bonds with other parents with children with brachial plexus, because as yall know my Niyah does her own thing even before all this stay at home stuff. A virtual PT session with her will turn into TicTok vlog..lol.

 

I noticed a common trend with Parents, especially with mothers. Several of them commented about being intimidated and afraid of their male sons. It didn’t matter if they were bio, foster, or adopted or 10 or 21. There’s definitely something going on, and it just didn’t appear because of Corona, but it’s making us seek help if only venting online. I’m in that number too. And its been going on off and on his college years. I grew tired of hearing him say he’s grown via chat, but now that college is canceled, seeing and hearing him and his new ways aren’t Yinging to my Yang anymore. Being that he is my one and only son and my need to play the role of tough and rough Mommy in the past, well, I was “Bro” for many years in high school, but I can’t do that anymore. Our whole banter has changed, and now Im in threads with other parents worried, scared, and stressed about their male children… It got me to thinking and relating to other mothers on the thread be it white, black, brown, purple, rich or poor we all had this issue with our sons that have been chilling in the shade till Corona put us all under one roof with nowhere to go. Another thing I shared in common with my rainbow friends is that we all had been in some form of an abusive relationship.

The extent of physical or emotional violence by teenage son and young adult sons against their mothers has been an issue since the passing of the Domestic Violence Act 1996. A mother may be in a state of shock and confusion, wondering what did she do wrong in her parenting. The relationship and love between a mother and her son are not the same as with an intimate relationship. I personally feel as if I am a Lioness when it comes to my children, my love for them takes over my very being. My sole survival is for them, whereas I can love a man, but his livelihood is not dependent on mine. I can imagine the weight of emotions a mother feels when she feels rejected and abused by a child who lived within her body and loved before laying sight upon him. I would think a mother would suffer a near nervous breakdown from feeling unloved by her son, followed by feeling she is a failure as fear, guilt, and shame flood her mind, heart, and soul.

In 2015, the first major study into adolescent (aged over 16) to parent violence (APV) found that 77% of all parent victims were female and 87% of perpetrators male. “It is a hidden abuse of women,” says the study’s author, Rachel Condry, associate professor of criminology at the University of Oxford. “That is why it has to be taken so seriously.”

In the case of a mother being abused by a younger son, or as we say a child with behavioral issues is often referred to Family Social Services, aka Foster Care. Hopefully, with therapy, the behaviors can be resolved. But what about the now-adult son who may be mimicking his abusive father’s behavior? He may be striking out because he has lost respect for his mother having seen her used as a punchbag for years, or venting his own personal frustrations and failures through hurting his mother. As well as shouting, cursing, refusing to pull their weight in the house, not paying money for household bills, or stealing. Who can she call to help her with her son? I believe her only option is to call the police, but will she? I would then I would cancel it unless it was horrible. That doesn’t sound like a good plan of action, but I’m being truthful. I have called the police to remove my ex-husband because he threatened me and pulled the phone out of the wall. He went to jail, got a lawyer who told me he was about to ask me a question only because my ex-husband, his client, asked him to do so. But he said after pulling the calls and pulling my background, he hoped and prayed I would say no. The question was, “Are you willing to drop the charges?” I responded No, and he was sentenced to five years, but dud three. He went through an excellent program for family, parenting, and drugs. He was released from prison and went back three months later, this revolving door continued to this day.

 

People who are victims of domestic violence are advised to seek help. But when the abuse comes from your own child, some parents say there’s a lack of support, understanding, and effective interventions to keep the entire family safe.
While research is limited, a 2017 review of the literature found child-on-parent violence is likely a significant problem that’s underreported.

I think about the women who pulled herself out of a dark bottomless pit of domestic abuse, hiding and lying to protect her abuser. She survived the hands of violence and finally found the strength and courage to leave an abusive man only to turn around to have her baby boy who loved every faucet of his Mommy to grow up to be that evil man she escapes has to be one of the worst feelings in life. Of all the generational curses, domestic abuse will embed itself in your beautiful baby boy, your son, who loves his mother until the reality of the unloving world of you and a man. I’m sure she believes death would be better than to live being abused by the child she birthed. I couldn’t imagine how it would feel about terminating, emancipating, or divorcing a child you gave birth to and raised until they made it to adulthood… I couldn’t imagine that pain, but maybe letting go and let God work on your child. At the same time, find ways to promote healing from all the feelings that torment your soul.
To this day, I worry that staying in an abusive marriage would affect my only son in manners as theses as well as becoming a domestic abuser himself. Back then, I told myself that the abuse I endured was more emotional, verbal, and financial and that my kids didn’t witness any physical fighting but fussing. But I would learn that abuse is abuse no matter the lack of physical scars.

 

A 2008 study by the U.S. Justice Department found that while most domestic assault offenders are adults, about 1 in 12 who come to the attention of law enforcement are minors. In half of those cases, the victim was a parent, most often the mother.
While most children who are abused or witness domestic violence do not go on to become violent themselves, and while most people with mental illness are not violent, those life experiences have been identified as risk factors for children who abuse their parents.

Yes, I feel guilty for staying married to an abusive man. He told me early on that he witnessed his Mom begin severally abused. He shared stories of his father breaking a plate of meatball and spaghetti on his Mom’s head because it was cold and how she pretended to be happy around relatives and church members. He would promise he would never be father, swore to never lift a finger to me nor any woman or daughters, but that was a lie. My ex-husband would start the continuation of the cycle of the generational curse of being an abuser/wife-beater on our honeymoon.
I believe my ignorance of Domestic Voilence contributed to the fact that I thought one needed to be beaten and bruised physically to be a victim of abuse. If if my stinking thinking would factor in my son continuing the abusive  cycle of my ex-husband even though there’s no DNA, but the fact that he witnessed it… I wouldn’t know how to live with that guilt. It’s likly I passed on a deadly cycke by allowing him to witness my abusive and not gettijg out of the relationship the monent I saw signs… But I pray we all can and will break the cycle of domestic abuse.

The insidious nature of domestic abuse also plays its part. “It can build up gradually,” says Bonnick, who runs the campaigning and resource website Holes in the wall. “It takes a while to acknowledge that you are being abused … because it’s become so normal,” she says.

I’ll  do more research on this topic to hopefully find a cure for our son’s who witnessed their Mommy’s being abused, but for women who continue to attract abusive men. Imagine if our sons are in relationships that mirror the so-called loving relationships we stayed in as they grew into men…

My heart does out to my Sista Friends & Mommy’s, who are going through this very, very difficult time with our children as we cope and survive through the Coronavirus. pandemic. I wish I had some advice that would make this time bearable, but we will get through all of the trials and tribulations set before us. Don’t give up, keep the faith.

Sources: https://www.theguardian.com/society/2018/dec/09/what-happens-when-your-child-becomes-violent-with-you
https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2019/11/29/777295848/when-teens-abuse-parents-shame-and-secrecy-make-it-hard-to-seek-help
Mothers breaking the silence on violence against them by sons

A native of New Orleans, who left her beloved New Orleans to spend twenty years of living in the land of Minnesota Not So Nice. Minnesota was full of opportunities but would learn that the soul of the state and the people who made it was just as icy cold as the temperatures. After the years and my 40th birthday flew by, I decided it was time to pack up my youngest child and come back to my roots, my birthplace the city that not only birthed me but gave me life. I would not be who I am without my New Orleans beginnings. I am all things that would challenge the belief of growing up in New Orleans. I was a 16yr old teen mother of a premature baby born with a severe medical disability. And only With the help of my mother, was it possible for me to BE! I was able to endure and survive the obstacles laid before my child and me. In a city that was built by my family, but did not allow for us to reap the benefits I overcame. Charity Hospital was my second home — a building filled with miracle workers who made it possible for my daughter to have life. I have lived a life of rainy days with peeks of sunshine, that are my children, including those not of my womb. I'm the proud mother of three and a grandmother of three. My dream was to live the life of the nursery rhyme of ”The Old Lady Who lived in a shoe,” and for the most part, I did. I cared for several children over the years as a special needs foster parent. I would learn that my love was not enough for some children, but I loved them through their pain. I'm not sure if I ever had a case of true love or came close to what love looks like on television, but I had my share of men and the mirage of love. I survived two abusive marriages. Though I longed to return to New Orleans on a daily bases, I must admit my move was one of the best decisions made for me. I am a college graduate; I was a successful entrepreneur. I coowned a soul food restaurant and catering company in Minnesota for 12 years. I developed the talent of creating custom cakes after the murder of my beloved cousin Melvin Paul. He survived Katrina only to go to Minneapolis six months later to be murdered over a parking spot dispute. But with the challenge of creating a simple wedding cake, I was able to find healing. I created the House of Cakes in honor of him. Minnesota life had me pretty materialistic. I worked to the point I do not remember much, but work and handing my children love money. I thought by having the big house on the hill, a husband, having a family, the ultimate provider and being involved in all things that matter, plus having the funds to match would cure me of what I was told was a generational curse of lack of everything from money, love to even self-love. But for the most part, that life poisoned my heart and soul. I was blinded by visions fed to me by the media. I was told I wasn't anything unless I was better than the Jones's. I lived being ok with a broken, bleeding heart. Life like this did not exist in my family while living in New Orleans from what I viewed with my eyes and soul. We may not have had all the things I acquired over the years, but we were happy, we were together. Family outside of New Orleans wasn't family anymore. We lived separate lives and had awkward moments when we bumped into each other in public. I hated living in Minnesota even though life their helped me in so many ways. I felt deep down the only way to repair it was to get back to my roots, my soul, my home, myself, my New Orleans. I'm here, and I love it. Even being in the so-called Blighted Area of New Orleans and not having all the financial and material security, I'm happy. I am determined that She, yes, New Orleans is a woman is just like me; together, we will overcome and will rise from all that tried to kill our spirit. Nothing like starting from the bottom and making your way back up!. I just know in my heart that New Orleans will provide for me. There's a bank account with funds in it owed to me by way of back pay for my ancestors. And I will receive my inheritance, and I will continue the traditions and customs of the old to keep the heartbeat of New Orleans beating. I'm down in the boot, living the life that feels right to me awaiting my destiny...

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