When I got to be older, like around 13 or 14, I can't remember my mom hitting me anymore. But she did something that was damaging to the psyche, if not to the body.
I could tell when it was about to happen, her classic venting technique. Her voice would begin to sound brittle and her jawline would harden. I could tell that whatever rage was simmering inside her was about to come out somehow and that any infraction on my part, real or imagined, would trigger the eruption of this rage.
I would try very hard to be particularly attentive to her when I saw her in this state of mind, asking if she needed any help, making sure that I made eye contact and talked in the proper respectful tone of voice. Never did it occur to me that it was impossible to please her when she was like this, or maybe it did occur to me at some level.
Nevertheless, I tenaciously plodded along the path of trying to appease and please.

Then, when I did do something that triggered her, when I managed to slip up some way, she would calmly tell me to sit down.
Her demeanor was so frightening to me, her eerie calm and her dreamy, detached tone of voice. It was as if my mom had disappeared and something sinister had taken her place.
After I sat down she would start in on the lecture, and the theme would depend on the infraction, not cleaning up after myself, not treating her respectfully, etc. Then as the lecture picked up speed her voice would grow in volume until it seemed to fill the room and bounce around inside my brain. She would stand over me like an enraged evangalist, shouting how I would amount to nothing, how lazy I was, how stupid, how weak. She would lean over me as she did this and I'd hunker down on the chair until finally I would start to cry. Then the rage in her would grow stronger, she would shout until I couldn't even hear the words, but her rage felt nearly palpable, wearing me down until I was emotionally beaten, sobbing, begging her to forgive me.

Then finally, she'd stop and when I'd look up at her I would see that her face looked peaceful and relieved. She'd given me her pain to carry for awhile and she was grateful that her burden was lightend.
In a sense I was relieved too, for her sake. I thought, in my mixed up way, that I was being a good daughter and helping out my mom; I thought that this was required of me.
But at the same time there was a part of me that was enraged and I buried this rage down deep inside, denying its presence until eventually it would erupt in me and that would usually be when I would self-harm or spiral downward into a deep depression. 

Mom never did understand that this was not a healthy way to deal with her rage, it only stopped happening to me because eventually I moved out. But her rage began to erupt in hateful phone calls from time to time and I dealt with that too, as best I could. I tried to be a good daughter. The times when I would urge her to get some help would end up with my words turned around on me, and I would be told that she had no problems, it was all me...just me. That hurt a lot and I would also begin to doubt myself even more, wondering if it was just all in my head or if I was creating the situation.

 Mom was an expert at this kind of dance and I couldn't keep up with her. I never could.

Oh my gosh I have a relative like that and honestly I wish I knew what to do; this a person close enough I can't just write off, not a parent, but somebody for sanity's sake I can't be there all the time. Sigh. My heart goes out to you on that, I have no answser.

Im so sorry you have been through soo much. I wish you well in healing the broken peices of your past. I am on the same journey. Of course our stories arent a whole lot alike, but we share a common bond, picking up the pieces of a painful and broken past. You will be in my thoughts and prayers.

Your post touched me so deeply, it was as if this was a page from my past. We are in another chapter of this saga in my own life's drama, looking for hope and emotional healing, but to afraid to be to hopeful. It is such a hard dance to continue....my thoughts and prayers are with you, for we are kindred spirits...

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