My mother, Vanessa, suffered from severe postpartum depression right after giving birth to me and it lasted for eighteen long years.
Ever since I was a child, Mom would scream so loudly that it could shake the entire house whenever Dad held me.
She, who felt as though the world had abandoned her, would threaten suicide whenever my grandparents came near me.
I couldn't even handle the complaints because they would only lead to accusations rather than comfort.
“If it weren’t for giving birth to you, how could your mom be depressed? You’re the reason she’s like this!”
It wasn’t until the end of my university military training that I finally received the Top Freshman Award.
I came home happy after a month away, excited to share my good news with my family. But instead, all I got were Mom’s cruel words and a storm of punches and kicks.
"Why did you tell your dad all that? Were you trying to take him from me?"
"I knew it! I knew you were a bitch! Why did you even come back? Go to hell! Go to hell!"
My dear mother, this time, I did as you wished. Let’s not see each other again in the next life.
——
I held the certificate of recognition for being an outstanding model soldier and handed it to Dad like it was a treasure.
His face was full of pride. “Our Hazel has really done well.”
In this family, Dad was the only one who ever gave me a little warmth, of course, only when Mom wasn’t around.
He reached out and softly ran his hand over my head. His eyes were filled with pride and joy, but also a bit of guilt he could never hide.
Just then, Mom’s loud voice reached us. “Hazel! What are you doing?”
Before Dad and I could react, Mom had already rushed over and slapped me hard across the face.
“You came back to seduce your dad while I was playing cards, didn’t you?”
“Hazel! Didn’t you go to college? Why did you come back? Did you do this on purpose?”
I quickly stood up and tried to shove the certificate into Mom’s hands. “No, Mom, my military training is over. I won a prize.”
“Look, I’m an outstanding model soldier among this year’s freshmen. I just wanted to tell you that…”
Before I could finish speaking, Mom had already swung the bag in her hand and hit me on the head.
The certificate slipped from Mom’s hand and fell to the ground; no one even noticed, just like me for the past eighteen years.
“Stop making excuses! You’re my child, don’t I know all your little tricks?”
"Are you trying to make me miserable? You won’t be happy until you drive me to death, will you?"
“Get out of here! Get out of my house right now!”
Dad quickly stood up and helped my angry Mom back to her room. "Alright, alright, don’t be upset. The child doesn’t understand. Don’t mind her."
My face felt hot, as if the warmth from Mom's hand was still there.
The certificate of recognition that Mom had just stepped on now lay quietly on the floor.
I stared at it closely, tears running down my face. My heart felt like it was being tightly squeezed by a big hand, the pain so strong I could hardly breathe.
I lived like this for eighteen years, yet each time, I still felt sad.
When I was three, I had just started kindergarten. On my first day, Dad came to pick me up.
Just when I got home that day, my mother was in the kitchen, pressing a knife against her neck.
"Who gave you permission to pick her up?! She’s more important to you than me, isn’t she?"
"Then I should just die and give you and your daughter the space you want!"
That day, Mom scared everyone, even me, a three-year-old child at that time.
