Maternal Maltreatment Facialabuse [better] -

She was the artist now. If this topic resonates with you personally, please know that support is available. You are not what was done to you.

Elara shrugged. “I don’t know what I look like.” maternal maltreatment facialabuse

That night, she tried. She sat on her bedroom floor, mirror in her lap, and forced herself to look. The face that stared back was not ugly—she knew that logically. But it felt illegal , like a stolen object. She saw her mother’s fingerprints ghosting over every contour. She saw the places that had been criticized, corrected, condemned. She was the artist now

By fourteen, Elara had perfected the art of being forgettable. She walked with a slouch, her hair a curtain. She spoke in a whisper. But the strangest symptom was her inability to look at her own reflection. Mirrors in her room were turned to face the wall. She brushed her teeth by touch. Elara shrugged

Her art teacher, Mr. Dhawan, noticed.