"When I see my nephews get scolded by my mom and hit by a broom, it feels like I get scolded and hit by her," Nabi said about her mother, who baby sits her brother’s children.

"My mother is such a mean and demanding person." Nabi finally started to talk about her mother. "Everything has to be just the way she wants, even with her grandchildren. Otherwise, she will keep complaining about it until we all become so tense and tired that we have to give in."

Nabi is a well-groomed, polite, and bright young Korean American woman who was hospitalized after a serious argument with her brother. "I don’t remember what I did to end up in the hospital," Nabi said. "One problem that I knew at the time was that I had no one to talk to or listen to me."

Nabi was anxious, restless and well-guarded initially, but after a month of therapy, she began to talk about what troubled her. However, when she feels uncomfortable, she disrupts the flow of her storytelling, with "I don’t remember." At times, she appears momentarily dissociated or appears "spaced out."

"While I was growing up, I was often locked in my room, and sometimes I didn’t have dinner until late at night," said Nabi with tearful voice.

"What happened? Who locked you in?" I asked.

"Many times, my mother locked me in my room until I finished my piano practice. I was not allowed to go out after I came back from my school. She used to even hold my dinner until I completed the practice," Nabi answered.

Nabi described her mother as outspoken, dominant, and in her own words, a "prima donna". Her mother has a strong sense of superiority, and claimed that she deserved better treatment because of her beauty and intelligence.

"Once, my mother tied my hands to the door knob while she was out shopping. I was about six or seven years old," Nabi appeared indifferent as if she was telling someone else’s story.

"I still remember begging my brother to untie my hands," Nabi said. "He did it, but with a condition of ‘listening to him.’ That meant that if he told me to stop talking or anything, I had to stop it immediately or else he would beat me up. He was cruel to me; he physically abused me until I became 20 years old."

Nabi suffered from severe confusion, feeling resentment toward her aggressive mother and anger toward her abusive brother. It was a constant struggle for Nabi to survive her mother, a compulsive disciplinarian, who used psychological abuse as a means of maintaining control over her daughter. On the other hand, her brother was jealous of Nabi’s success in school, and used physical abuse as a means of maintaining power over her. Unfortunately, it seemed the environment in which Nabi lived was a fertile ground for her to lose her mind.

"When I played the piano well, my mother was very happy," Nabi said. "But now, she can hardly stand me. I have failed her. I am a loser." Nabi has never felt anything she has done was her own accomplishment, but a result of her mother’s effort and success. Nabi was indulged for her "mother’s glorification."

The effect of this abuse is devastating in Nabi’s present life, resulting in a lack of motivation, a lack of interests and goals, and feelings of suffocation. This child in Nabi’s young beautiful body has been craving for freedom for a long time.

In numerous traumatic experiences during her mother’s psychological abuse and her brother’s physical abuse, Nabi repressed her anger and aggression towards them. She said that "shutting her mouth and emotions off" was the only safe way to defend her vulnerable self from future harm and abuse.

As she grew older, Nabi ceased to employ this defense, and adapted a new way of defending herself. She daydreamed in delusional thoughts. This seems only logical for her as a means of controlling her brutal environment and escaping her painful reality. However, she feels guilty and shameful for having "craziness" and causing family disruption.

"Because I am considered ‘crazy,’ I can come to you to tell how crazy the rest of my family is," Nabi states whenever she feels less guilty. "You remember, Dr. Choi, that I don’t have anyone to talk about this stuff." So, she is encouraged to unload her "stuff" in the therapy room.

"Nabi, you are doing well. Go ahead, Nabi. Spit it out. DonÕt take it in any more. It is a toxin that will kill you," I whispered to myself.

It is sad to think about how many mothers out there pushing their children to achieve goals. But, whose goal is it?

I wonder how many children suffer from emotional imprisonment.



Dr. Beatrice Sool Choi is a clinical psychologist at the Richmond Area Multi Services (RAMS) in San Francisco. She can be reached at (415) 668-5955 ex. 39
or RAMS
3626 Balboa Street, San Francisco, CA 94121.