“You got me in trouble.” This comment from Mother left me puzzled, my facial expression betraying my ‘do not respond’ self-pledge. [Any response, positive or negative provides fuel. More about fuel in coming posts.]

As I rapidly searched my memory for any such occurrence, Mother continued, “You told on me and the principal called me. You got me in trouble.”

“Ah,” I thought to myself, “I remember this incident well.” I was 6 years old. Mother was mad at me because I wouldn’t sit still while she brushed and pulled my long, naturally curly hair, so vigorously I was in great pain. With anger in her steel cold eyes, she hit me with the bristled hair brush hard and often, then sent me off to school with my arms bleeding.

The next thing I remember is my teacher sending me to the office. I had said nothing. Sitting with the secretary outside the principal’s office, with a concerned look, she gave me a piece of candy, and I forevermore wanted to follow in her footsteps. I vaguely remember the principal being very kind, but I do not remember what was said.

As I digested Mother completely turning the facts around, I had become pretty good at following my therapist’s advice, “Say nothing.” I simply turned away, went for a long walk, in tears, not understanding how a mother could do that to her daughter. More of my therapist’s insights surfaced, “Why would you expect her to do anything different?”