u/EdDrowned49

TW: Mentions/descriptions of physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of suicide

To preface this, I don't know where else to write about this. It has happened two weeks ago and I still can't really get over it.

This will also contain a lot of necesarry context and a lot of my own perspective. It is a long read, I am sorry, please put up with me.

I am unsure whether the trigger warnings apply at all, but I will eer on the side of caution.

I am also not a native english speaker, so I apologise if I sound weird, non-sensical or am otherwise hard to understand.

For starters, since I was around 7, I had a nut allergy. My parents didn't really believe me in the beginning. I vaguely remember them trying to make me eat nuts a year after I told them nuts make me feel sick - they wanted to see if the allergy is gone. I also remember being made to eat cereal despite my worries about it containing nuts, and I spent that morning lying on the carpet, in my room, because said cereal ended up upsetting my stomach.

One of the "defining" traits of my allergy was my mouth burning upon contact with nuts. It was painful, but over the years I came to joke about it - calling myself a "biological nut detector".

There were some snacks which claimed to contain traces of nuts, yet, they didn't hurt me at all. If something contained nuts though, I knew near instantly. My usual response was to spit out everything and drown myself with water in an attempt to get rid of the burning.

When I was 15, I got broken up with suddenly. I responded like a very dumb teenager - I got piss drunk. Combined unholy amounts of alcohol and drank a lot of it, most heavy liquors. I poisoned myself. I couldn't tell my parents what I did, so my stupid drunk brain made up a lie - that I was, in fact, throwing up my guts out because I ate something that didn't sit right with me.

As much as this was utterly irresponsible and wrong... it also scared both my parents shitless. My mother, especially. She thought I was dying.

And that's how I finally got them to book an appointment with an alergologist.

Nut allergy wasn't my only allergy. I was also allergic to kiwi, cats, pollen, trees and dust mites. I was usually made to suffer through most of it, the only allergy I didn't have to deal with was the one to kiwi (I found out about that one in kindergarden. I was always a picky kid, was told to eat a kiwi anyway, the next activity after lunch, I was apparently worryingly red and puffed. Nobody made me eat kiwi since).

At that appointment, they did the pricking test (no clue what it's really called - you get your forearm prickled, samples of allergens put on and wait). Most of my forearm was red and blotched to varying degrees. The nurse commented that I am "theirs" from now on.

They didn't test nuts during this, because that allergy was, at this point, obvious.

My parents were finally made aware of all my allergies, imcluding the worst one - dust mites (10 on the chart, if that helps). They were told to replace my bed (a bed-couch I inherited from my older brother, it was older than me, alergologist called it a "dust bomb"), get me a specific mattress, I was prescribed treatment to slowly soften the allergy. I was also prescribed antihistamines, nasal spray, mouth drops (for the burning) and prednisone for "worst cases".

My mother told the doctor about my drunk stunt, still believing the allergy lie. The doctor found it weird but worrying, so my blood was taken and sent to the labs.

My mother was called about the results. And the results... were unfortunate.

My alergologist hoped that my nut allergy could be the curable kind - it isn't. It was hereditary. Pernament. And potentially deadly.

He said to my mother that it will get worse with age, that I can die of it, that I'll likely need an epi-pen.

He made her aware of how dangerous it is.

Since then, I still had incidents with my nut allergen.

My mother gave me a task one christmas - peel almonds. She thought that I can't eat them, but touching won't do anything. I don't remember why I agreed to doing it, probably because I thought the same thing and couldn't really say no without it looking like an excuse.

So I peeled. A lot of them. I peeled until my hands got red, hot and ballooned - every spot the almond juice touched was affected.

My older brother brought french snacks home. Macaroons, I think. Oval, colorful and something I really wanted to try. I still asked him whether they contain nuts, I was used to doing this - he said they shouldn't, but he'll look it up just to be sure. I took the "shouldn't" at face value, I was too excited - I stuffed one right into my mouth. By the time found out and came to tell me they contained almond milk, I already threw up.

I was also a big fan of the drink mogu-mogu. I was also always aware that it contained some coconut, but I loved it so much that I was willing to gamble. One time though, I drank too fast. Small bottle, big problem. I felt my throat constrict. I could still breathe fine, but the sensation was horrifying. That's when I took prednisone. I am still unsure whether it did anything, whether I wasn't overreacting, but this genuinly scared me. This was the moment I realised the "deadly" part of my allergy is very real.

I hadn't had the drink since.

All of this should clue you in into multiple important facts: my allergy is documented, severe, deadly in the right circumstances and my mother knew about it and witnessed many moments where the danger was obvious.

Keep this in mind.

I came home from college after a month or so. I had a tight deadline on an incredibly important paper (that I was behind on), yet I came anyway. Because my mother had her birthday few days before and there was a family gathering planned on that weekend to celebrate it. Because I had a gift prepared and while I did text her two minutes after midnight on the day of her birthday and called her the same day to congratulate her again, I wanted to do so in person.

I also promised I'll come many times for this gathering.

The evening I arrived was eventful emotionally, but that would require another novel of context and isn't really that important for the main course (pun unintended).

I worked on the paper until 6AM. I laid down exhausted and passed out despite the redbull still in my system.

I was woken up at around 10:30 by ruckus. I should also mention that another of my brothers was home at that time, too, along with his wife and three small children. Ruckus, therefore, wasn't a cause of concern, even if it should have been. I fell asleep minutes after.

The second time I opened my eyes to my mother coming inside my room. Bowl of freshly made pasta in hand. Nothing unusal - this setup was quite routine. I tested my mother's cooking half-conscious many times, especially if my mother was unsure of it (messed up recipe). No cause for alarm.

Pasta has never hurt me. Pasta was always safe. No cause for alarm.

She asked me whether it burns.

"Does it burn? Does it burn?"

I was so exhausted and out of it that I assumed she somehow made the pasta spicy on accident and wanted me to see if she can give it to the kids. I have no spice tolerance, she has plenty - I am a better reference point.

She put a spoonful of the pasta in my mouth, I swallowed.

Only after I swallowed did she inform me the pasta had nut oil in it.

I freaked out. I went from half-dead to awake, aware and very alarmed in moments.

My first response was if she was kidding, second was about the fact that I don't have my meds with me.

I didn't take anything with me except my antihistamines. My drops and prednisone stayed in the apartment I stay in for college, different city. I was only coming home for three days. I was also under the impression that I won't be dealing with nuts, since everyone in my family is aware of my allergy and I am cautious. I always ask. I gambled once and never again, always cautious, always rejecting dubious food rather than playing russian roulette.

She was confused, asking me again whether it burned and saying that I am a "biological nut detector".

When I still wasn't happy, she just said "I don't know what to do." and left.

I was distraught and grew progressively angry. The part of the mouth that interacted with the pasta felt tingly. Itching started not long after. Hives popped up on my forearm.

At that point, I still gave her a weird benefit-of-the doubt. I assumed she was unsure whether she put the wrong oil in (we always used olive oil for pasta) and wanted to test it. I somehow made the connection that she was maybe testing it for the kids, which didn't really make sense since nobody was allergic to nuts in this family, only me.

I was still livid, regardless. It seemed like she was treating me like a machine that you can put a thing in and get a nut/no nut verdict. I also don't react to every nut, dose and kind of food the same way.

What also enraged me was the fact that she had no qualms with causing me pain.

Burning HURTS. It fucking does. It isn't pleasant. It just isn't.

Later, through my brother's wife I found out that she was certain she put the wrong oil in. She said it multiple times.

I also found out from her that my mother woke up in a "mood" that morning. The day before, she was, reportedly, sunshines and love, nice and patient with the kids. Went on a long cycle trip with my six year old nephew, came at 9PM and I still talked to her at midnight (I was asking her whether she wanted to receive her gift now or on the family gathering. She didn't choose, but she looked ready to drop so I told her I'll give it to her during the party).

This morning, she was chaos. She decided, as soon as she woke up, that she's late on everything and made everyone deal with it while I slept, unaware. She was also not accepting help, too.

She was stressed and that caused a big rush.

During that rush, she was "thinking of me", because there was nothing in the fridge for me to eat. So she made pasta. She also made a mistake - put in the wrong oil. She was aware of the mistake. She was apparently "late" and "didn't know what to do sooner" in the kitchen (she was preparing other stuff, too).

And yet that didn't stop her from taking herself from that kitchen with the bowl of nut laced pasta and putting it in my mouth without informing me.

I am not saying that she is a sociopath. I am not saying that this was attempted murder (which was a thought virtually everyone had after hearing what she had done). I had a very mild reaction, luckily.

What I am saying is that she had a lapse in judgement where she didn't think twice about her actions, was fully aware of what she was doing and what it would and could cause and went through with it anyway.

Unchecked curiosity and utter lack of judgement.

I yelled at her later. After... I checked with other people who witnesses the events (my brother's wife, especially) and realised I probably wasn't overreacting and that this absolutely crossed a line.

I was mad, I was afraid (I didn't know what would happen to me because I spent years not interacting with nuts in any way, so who knows what my reaction could have been) and most of all, I felt betrayed and blindsided.

I just didn't expect my mother to do this to me. Even after everything she has done to me in the past, I never anticipated anything like this. She is my mother. She should have an incentive to keep me alive, even if I am a legal adult (19).

Everybody took it seriously, except my mother and her husband, my darling father.

My brother's wife (when we were alone) said that she wouldn't do this to her children and that this was absolutely fucked up. My brother had no words, he couldn't say anything but telling me to take my antihistamines.

My mother, after returning (she was briefly gone between the events) - like nothing happened.

I raised my voice, I said that I felt bad. My father, as per tradition just said "calm down, calm down" (your wife did this to your child and I should calm down?? I am itching everywhere) and then "and we shouldn't feel bad?". Like a kid. But that's expected. I long since made peace with the fact my father is an emotionally immature little boy on retirement.

I yelled at my mother anyway, saying that she crossed a line and the whole lot.

Guess what, she minimised it. Said that it was "just a little" (dose often didn't matter, I had painful reactions even to small doses in the past, and, again, allergies like mine are not predictable) and that I'll "deal with this in restaurants" so I should expect this (this is untrue, from my experience. Any normal foodplace, after being informed of an allergy checks for cross contamination and DOESN'T SERVE ME MY ALLERGEN WITHOUT MY KNOWLEDGE).

Of course she didn't apologise. Of course she didn't.

I was distraught for hours. Had to swallow it down to write my goddamn paper (which I was now even more behind on, because guess what I dealt with for hours).

I still had to come to that fucking family gathering. Give her the gift and congratulate her like she didn't practically try to poison me the same morning. I hated it. I hated that I had to do this, but I couldn't afford drama, I had to finish that paper and send it by midnight.

So I went, much later.

I came to my mother loudly retelling the events of the morning. As it it were a funny story.

Besides her sat my incredibly unimpressed cousin. I was alarmed at the fact she was doing this. Airing her dirty laundry. She just wasn't comprehending what she was admitting to, at all.

I tried to act normal as I asked her why was she "bragging" (it's a lighter term in my language, hard to really translate).

My cousin responded for her, saying "It's not every day you nearly kill your own child."

Yeah. Great.

Even more "estranged" family, less involved with ours thought this was a fuckup. And my mother wasn't comprehending it.

Later, chocolates were being passed around. I rejected them while writing my paper, murmuring that I had "enough for today". Because I wasn't taking the risk.

That brought the incident back a little. And it also brought my mother to admit -

"I don't know why I did it."

My mother was always emotionally unstable. She had... rages which were often violent. Animalistic rages.

She proved my whole life that she is unsafe. I was beaten, I was bit, I was slapped, the stories are numerous and I slowly grew to understand that what she has done to me over the years is close to or could be called abuse. I still struggle with that word for a myriad of reasons, but sharing some stories nearly got multiple people to call CPS, so do with that what you will.

She was also cruel verbally or otherwise, cold, manipulative.

I thought she was dangerous. I never thought she would be... this dangerous.

One lapse in judgement because of emotional dysregulation made her knowingly feed her own child his personal poison. Fully aware. Without telling me before I swallowed.

I would have rejected it. I would have, if I could have. I was half-asleep, I was dumb, I was vulnerable, I was too comfortable in the wrong moment.

I don't know what I should do with this. I don't know how to process this. How do you live with this. How am I supposed to not be traumatised by this.

Everyone around me keeps responding to it as if it were serious. I thought I was overreacting. I still wonder a little if I was overreacting. I don't know how to parse this. My girlfriend was mad the second I told her (I texted her near instantly). My friends were mad. Everyone reacted by "attempted murder??" and no matter how much context I add, nobody is excusing her.

I have no excuses. There are no mitigating circumstances, there are no "I made her mad", "I deserved it", "It was my fault", "I wasn't perfect, either", "Both sides...". Even the usual excuses that make me doubt everything, every bit of progress I made with accepting what my childhood was - unapplicable. No script applies. Nothing comes up.

I hate this. I hate that she did it, I didn't want this to happen. I hate that it's serious and everyone says that it's that serious.

I hate absolutely everything about this. I already have a load of mental issues, many caused by hers, truly.

Insomnia, anxiety, stress, hypervigilance, nightmares, depression, past suicidality (still impacts me to this day), self-hatred, low self-esteem.

She stopped beating me when I was 15. Only bit me once like a year or so after. Since then, nothing - only verbal cruelty and the rest of her behaviours. I thought - well, she's too old to be dangerous now.

I thought I could call myself oversensitive for being affected and traumatised by what she had done with me. Because it still haunts me to this day.

No, she proves, yet again, that she's dangerous. And she's not getting any younger.

She's not a narcissist, but she is likely mentally ill in some way. My grandfather was similar to her too, the guy ended up hanging himself in the basement surrounded with vodka bottles.

But she will never be self-aware enough nor care enough to seek help and she'll only get worse.

I don't know what to do with this. I don't know what to do about this.

I likely don't even make a lot of sense. This is a jumbled mess, really. I hadn't slept for unrelated reasons (my life is like Australian forests in summer. Fire everywhere, all the time. And I have to put them out, all the time). I am sorry this is so long. If you're reading this, thank you so much for hearing me out.

I would like to ask for more perspectives on this whole incident. I don't know where else to ask. I still omitted many details (lenght + I just want to get this out), but I hope this is enough.

I am still unsure whether I am overreacting about this whole thing. I appreciate any input.

If you have any advice, I would appreciate that, too.

Even if you don't feel like doing any of that, I am still glad you read until the end. I needed to vent to other humans. I needed to say it somewhere because I currently have no therapist nor anything like that, although I have a wonderful girlfriend and good friends. Still. Thank you for listening.

I hope this belongs in this sub. If it doesn't, I am sorry.