Disclaimer: I am not a mother. This is solely my opinion. This is coming from the perspective of being parented, not the perspective of parenting.
Content Warning: Domestic Abuse.
A little while ago my friend and I were comparing war stories on growing up. I was explaining that since I was a child, I knew my parents didn’t love each other. I knew there were a lot of issues. And that my mother had shared with me about a man she’d met well before my father whom she did love greatly.
My friend thought this odd. I rebuffed that I grew up seeing my mom abused by the hands of my father so if she were to feed me lies about how great he was, it would have confused me and probably have done more damage than being honest with me did.
I know a mother who has two grade school children. I know a mother who is abused by the hands of her husband in front of her two grade school children. I know a mother who blames herself and excuses her husband’s behavior and abuse for her children so they will still love daddy.
Not even after the first time I saw my father hit my mother, did she ever blame herself for his actions of abuse. And though my mother stayed in an unhealthy marriage for reasons unto her own; I saw her strength, I saw her honesty, and I respect who she was as well as who she is now.
Because of her, I haven’t continued the cycle.