I Hate My Mother

By Amethyst Jones

"I Hate My Mother" is an emotionally charged autobiography of trauma. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amethyst Jones
• Release date: Jul 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201568764

Amethyst Jones

Amethyst Jones holds a bachelors in film production, is a Youtuber, and loves to be creative. She enjoys writing in various forms spanning from scripts, songs, prose and poetry, and is now a self published author with her first book "I Hate My Mother", an autobiography of trauma.

Book preview

Early Childhood:

Hayward, CA

Chapter 1 

Church Lockdown

Ever since I can remember, we weren’t allowed to go out freely. We were stuck in the house unless we were at school, the babysitter’s, or church. Church was mandatory, unless you were lucky enough to get sick or get away with acting sick. Between Sunday services that ran from morning to dinner time, choir rehearsals, praise dance rehearsals, bible studies, revivals, and what not, I never understood the hoopla. I would see the people crying and screaming and just wanted to play with my friends. Services with lessons that had no connection to me and the restlessness of being an energetic kid left me bored. With all the God this, God that, sin this, sin that being stuffed down my throat I became suffocated.

My mother would read the bible on her own but not to us, neither would she explain it. I remember on one or two occasions she read a couple of scriptures in place of a bedtime story. It was my request since it was something that dictated our lives but was never focused on. I wanted to know what the inside said. Children’s church touched on the same superficial stories. However, never did my mother introduce principles or explain and encourage us to think.

Read the bible. To a child without guidance and proper comprehension skills, the bible was but a prop, church wear a costume, the church a stage, and me, an extra who wanted out of this tedious performance.

Being forced to be places I was sick of being with no understanding, no time to digest things for myself turned it into a chore I could live without. It was another tedious thing forced upon us by our mother whose contradictions made it impossible to take seriously. God was the reason for everything, fear Him and do right. But if that was so, then why was everything so messed up? That’s what I never understood as a child.  Like a monkey at a circus, I dressed up and clapped along and smiled with no understanding of what it was all about. Put on display so others can comment on how good our family looked.

I remember one incident where she was at choir rehearsal, me and the other kids were playing. There was a plastic bag and I thought it’d be fun to put it on my head, I was fine and could breathe as the ends weren’t secured to anything. So fast was the bag removed and my head was met with a forceful hand. My mother rushed all the way from the choir stands to the pews we were at to take off the bag and hit me hard. I didn’t know why I was being hit; I was playing. We put paper bags on our heads, how was plastic any different? She called me stupid and told me to sit down, I had no clue why. The older female sibling said I could’ve suffocated and asked me if I wanted to die.

I said no but, on the inside, I thought it wouldn’t be so bad. If she just worried or scared, shouldn’t she have hugged me? Shouldn’t she have looked sad? I was a kid who didn’t know anything, why wouldn’t she carefully explain to me the dangers of a plastic bag? The dangers of dying? Instead, I was called out my name and hit, it was times like these I was convinced she didn’t love me. That she would just do things to look well in front of others.

The one thing I got excited for was when they would talk about Him coming back for us and leaving this world, even as a child I didn’t want to be here, I was ready to go. Take me away from here. But it never happened. Everything was a lie. That was a constant theme in my life.

I feel like this isn’t being properly conveyed, but because of my suffocation and the hypocrisy of church life I later rejected it growing up. Especially when, as an abused teenager I would be ambushed into going and then threatened for not ‘acting properly’. Fuck you.

Even now I have issues with God and the ‘kingdom’. The Bible says crap about getting children while they’re young, so it’ll be a foundation or whatever. That’s conditioning. I equate God with my mother, the way she would use Him to justify her load of bullshit, abuse, and neglect but there was no God to call her out on her shit...Yeah. Why? It’s something I haven’t gotten an answer yet, but if His goal was to turn me against Him and demand justification, He got what He fucking wanted.

The more I think about God the more it seems like an abusive relationship. Pain and suffering but gotta blindly follow for the promise of a better day and eternal life? A giant ass over hyped sour patch kid? This is me. These are my thoughts. Where I stand. You can judge and say ‘that’s not right/there’s a bigger plan’ but I’m telling the truth. If I keep hiding my truth the thorns will thicken. How is it that I can face things head on, but He cannot see the courage and nobility in it and honestly face and answer me?

I don’t want to hear shit about Him being all powerful, you can’t question because you don’t see the big picture bullshit. They are just words to brush off the hard-hitting inquiries. If my own salvation is at risk, it’s because He was such a crappy God.

To God

I don’t want paradise. I don’t want hell. Ever since I was a child who hated her birthday, all I wanted was nothingness. You let me grow up the way I did, you put me through hell yet always sent someone to catch me just in the nick of time. What kind of sadistic shit—? You sided with her, You didn’t police her like You should’ve yet people preach to me how I’m not allowed to feel this way? How I should just accept