Help Trent Escape an Abusive Home and Family

I was Physically Strangled by my Mother and am without a Car or Safe Home

Hello, my name is Trent. I am 23, and live in Mississippi in The United States. On Wednesday night, July 30th, just after 9pm, I was physically, domestically abused by my own mother. She started to strangle me. I have been stuck in a household with a family that scares me for a majority of my life. I have struggled to move out of my home. I have done odd jobs here and there but have struggled to get a consistently paying job, fingers crossed that will change soon, but I currently need help to escape an abusive household where I cannot be myself and my safety is conditional.

I told other family members I did not feel safe in that house, but I was reassured I had nothing to be afraid of and I was just being paranoid. But lo and behold I was right. I am currently couch hopping between friends and a family member, the one who assured me I was just paranoid, currently and that family member has apologized. I also no longer have a car after that night. Not for the exact same reason but very much connected. It has been a little over a week and a half since the incident first happened, and to be honest, my safety is conditional. I do not want to return to my abusers' home, as I frankly do not trust my family.

TL;DR

My mother has been huffing compressed air for years, mostly unbeknownst to me her son, has mentally scarred me, and has now physically abused me. On July 30th, 2025 she strangled me in front of family, basically pushed her mother over, and kicked me in the head. I no longer have a car, am not safe in that house despite being told so, and am living with people who see me as wrong for being me. I am couch hopping and want to pursue legal action after I gain a stable footing. I don’t know what amount to set, so I just set a high one. To cover rent, food, transport, phone, and legal expenses. My safety there is conditional, and thus not truly safe. It has been a while since the incident, but I believe with how things have gone since the night in question this can still be considered an emergency as I could sink at any point from staying afloat.

Prior Context (The First Incident)

I live in a house with my mother and her parents. The whole house is frankly abusive but what happened the other night was beyond the last straw. Back in December, a couple weeks before Christmas, I got up late one night, I believe 12/14, My grandmother said she heard something in the back, went to check on my mother in her room and had not gotten an answer or was able to open the door. My Nana (grandmother) had told me what she thought she heard my mother huffing compressed air, and it scared me half to death. I had discovered my mother was huffing compressed air. At the time I thought our relationship was improving. It had been strained before but I thought we were well on the mend. I was talking more with her, I drove her a couple places she needed. But that night was the last straw.

I myself am not of the heterosexual orientation and an atheist who was raised in a household with a strict, not religious but nonetheless, bigoted grandfather. My mother and grandmother have known both those facts about me for a long time, but no matter how many times I try to explain why certain actions of theirs hurt me and people like me, it’s like it just can’t break through. But I was still talking with them.

That night in December was the last straw. I pleaded to her to open the door. She wouldn't. I was scared. I have a friend whose mother died from doing the exact same thing a little over four years ago. In fact, not too long after my friend's mother died from that, which I had told my mother about, she had told me that she also had taken a hit of air here and there to perk herself up. I told her at the time how much it scared me and I made her promise me to stop. She said she hadn't done it in a long time. I wonder how true that is thinking back on it. I had honestly forgotten she had told me that and I had forgotten that she had been huffing air for years. She hid it well. My grandmother and cousin had discovered back on Thanksgiving that she was huffing air. My cousin found a can of air under her pillow. I was unaware of this until that night in December.

The first incident on that December night she berated me. Made me feel as if my efforts were worthless. Basically I just took it as me being a disappointment, not being able to hold a job. Before that I had already seen myself as a burden, taking their food, using their water and electricity, and sleeping in a room. But within the past year at that point I had been contributing more to the house, helping my grandmother where she needs it. Making grocery trips for her, taking trash off due to a strange situation, and had been helping feed the 15 cats that are in the house, five of which my mother had brought. I was scared crying because I didn't want my mother to die. I was so scared I started calling her "Momma" which I haven't done since I was like 10. My grandfather almost learned that night what she was doing too, but didn't. I was crying while on the other side of the door my mother was slowly killing herself.

After that I had for a majority stopped talking with her. As she had hurt me and I did not know how to deal with the mental scars and did not want to force myself to talk with someone I was not ready to talk with, no matter how much my Nana tried to push me to. I did not want to hurt my mother by not talking to her. But I did not want to deal with the pain anymore. Having conversations with her in prior years would usually result in an argument or me feeling worse about myself. As if she couldn't see my efforts through my then depression I was trying to navigate and figure out why I was having.

Buildup to THE Incident (The Past Week)

I heard her huffing air in the garage when she got home Wednesday, July 23rd. My room is right next to the garage and has thin walls, so I heard it. It made me freeze up and my heart rate increase. I wanted to go out into the garage and yank it out of her hands then and there. But I froze because I knew that that would've probably set up something worse instead of us crying together promising to help each other. If only I knew what was to come.

I ignored it, but told my grandmother in the morning. My mother's a grown woman. She can make her own decisions. I could have stopped her that night, but for all I know it could have sealed her death. She could have driven off under the influence and gotten herself killed. Back during December I was scared when she went outside at one point because I thought she was going to drive off. When I went out to check on her to make sure she wasn't going to leave she yelled at me to get back inside. I was only wearing a robe and it had just rained. When I said I was scared and came to make sure she didn't drive off like I feared he might, she threatened to drive off unless I went back inside. In my haste I locked myself outside so I knocked on the door. She yelled at me again to get inside and when I cried to her that I locked myself out, she called me a dumbass. But that was December.

This is Wednesday, July 23rd. A couple days later she had not returned home. She had been acting strange for a long time besides being unable to fulfill promises she's made like redoing and uncluttering two rooms in the house for over a decade, she is a hoarder. She had been sleeping outside in the driveway in her car. Whenever Nana went to check on her and knock on her window, my mother would yell at her to leave her alone. And then she was gone for a couple days. I didn't know what to think, but my Nana was worried sick and crying hoping she wasn't dead. Of course I hoped she wasn't dead too, but I assumed that she was just off with some new guy she was trying to date.

This wasn't the first time she had been gone days at a time. Something did feel a bit different though, because she wasn't answering my Nana's texts. Or was barely, she sent one reply. My Nana still worried was imagining worst case scenarios. What if she had been kidnapped? A realistic possibility. Nana and Poppy went around town. Poppy called the police department and asked around. We had found her. My mother was in jail. The charges were improper/out of date car tag, evading the law, running a stop sign, and running a red light. She then crashed her car. I don't know if it's totaled or not, but I know she plans to get a new one. At the same time, my Nana's sister and her husband are on their way to visit. My mother spent a day in jail before we knew where she was. She was booked at 1:51am on Friday morning, missing a whole day of work. Thankfully she didn't lose her job. She would have to spend the weekend in jail and have a court date on Monday. She would have, but Poppy went and bailed her out. I believe she still has a fine to deal with. But she was out a car and had to get to work.

First my grandfather drove her. And then I was pressured into handing over the key fob for my car. For the first day, I didn't. I was so mad. I understood why, and it made the most sense for her to take my car. After all it wasn't my car. It was legally her car that she bought in her name and gave to me after I graduated high school and had to drive to community college before I dropped out. I understood it entirely, but I was still mad. As if I didn't have places to go around town, people to see, interviews to do. Why does she have to use my (her) car when we have four other vehicles? Poppy's trucks and old van may be cluttered but can still drive. Well she's not insured on any of those so it is entirely reasonable. Poppy said she couldn't use the main van that we consider Nana's in the garage, because my mother kept using it to bring furniture and now pallets home. You know you've reached a new low of hoarding when you're the person bringing home pallets now. She complains about my grandfather being a hoarder when she is the reason one bedroom can't be used, and the other is a narrow path to a bed you can barely sleep on because it's covered in so much stuff. And half the time if she sleeps in the house, it's on the couch so she probably has the bed that used to be mine entirely covered with her belongings. Poppy is bad about it too, but his stuff is mostly out of the way as embarrassing my family finds it. But I digress. I understood why she had to take my car. It made the most logical sense.

And then tragedy struck again. Now this part is my fault entirely. I will take blame for it. I got home late and put my keys on the top of the shelf. I needed to go get it serviced. My headlights had just went out and I needed to replace them. What I didn't know was just how little oil I had left. And when my mother had taken it to work, it had died on her. Poppy and Nana's brother-in-law drove out to get her. Nana's brother in law is or was a mechanic, I can't remember which. He said if it hadn't happened to her, it was going to happen to me the next time I went driving. Fate is very weird. If only I had gotten it serviced. I do not know cars. I only drive the thing, I don't know proper maintenance without researching and YouTube tutorials. If I had either taken it a day earlier, or stood my ground for one more day, I would have gotten it serviced, my engine wouldn't be wrecked. and this entire situation would have been avoided. Or at the very least delayed by a long while. I wonder if she would have strangled me eventually or it was just this incident specifically. But we'll never know will we? Because we ended up facing the incident that night

The Incident Itself

My mother is out of jail. Nana's family is visiting. She has told her sister about my mother's problem with compressed air, something I am unaware of at the moment and I don't know if mom knew of either. My grandfather is not yet aware that she is huffing air. My mother's threat of taking stuff away is still in effect. They are all spending a day out of the house, so I have the place all to myself. The only time I feel genuinely safe to come out of my room. My house is not the issue, the fact I'm a fish out of water in my own home amongst my family is. I spent some alone time there until they all got back. Nana and her sister got back first, and I talked with them a tiny bit. Then later when I was in my room, Poppy, Nana's brother-in-law, and mom got home. They talked for a moment, and the visiting family were about to leave. My mother told Nana that she was going to go tell me about my car. Nana said she should wait and knows how I am. If she had waited 30 seconds more, family would be gone and not have witnessed such a horrible, embarrassing event.

My mother came to knock on my door. I debated to answer it because I did not know who it was. Everyone has knocking patterns, but also knocks randomly. I could not discern the knocks this time. I had thought it was Poppy. I knew it could possibly be my mother, but even if it were I was not expecting what would come next. I barely cracked the door to show my face. She began to speak to me, Hearing the car was dead I was naturally drained because neither of us could get around on our own now. I still did not want to talk with her any, but it was happening whether I wanted it or not. We started to get into it about our relationship, standing at my bedroom/office door. Quiet and whispering but very tense, tearful and emotional. She said she loved me. I told her it didn't feel like it. When I tried to explain why the faces she made of disgust and the denial she was showing. I just wanted to end it. So I tried to close the door. As I was she started pushing back. I did not want to hurt her hands or feet and thankfully I didn't. If I had I would have immediately opened the door and hated myself even more for causing physical pain to her. But the only way I could get the door closed was to slam it. I did and locked the deadbolt.

She then yelled at me from beyond the door that if I wanted my car towed back I could pay for it myself. This was it for me. From all I have heard, me slamming the door is what triggered her to do what she did next. I DID NOT WANT TO BE IN THIS SITUATION. SHE FORCED IT WHEN I WAS NOT READY TO TALK WITH HER. When I heard her say that about my car, I was done. I did not care. Mad and tearful, I opened the door, stepped out, and started calling her out on all her issues. I called her out for huffing air and slowly killing herself, I called her out for hurting me and not being there for me how I needed her to emotionally and developmentally. And then it happened. I DID NOT RAISE MY HANDS. That was too much for her to deal with.

She placed her hands around my neck, pushed me against my closed bedroom door, and tightened her grip. I waited a solid 10 seconds at least and until my grandmother started heading over to pry her off of me before I took my first swing at her. I have a large disdain for domestic violence. Which is why it took me as long as it did before I started to defend myself. Poppy is yelling at us all to stop. I believe he doesn't know what's going on and is just yelling at everyone of us. Nana's family get escorted out real quick through the garage. The last thing they hear before leaving the house is me yelling and crying how sorry I was they had to witness it. Nana had come over to pry her off. I had opened my bedroom door to a get cane I had stashed in the corner of my room for self defense should the need arise. I did not use the can that night. I honestly expected to have to use it on my grandfather if I found him doing something to my Nana again. My door was open, but just before I had gotten in there, as Nana was trying to get mother off of me, my mother basically pushed my Nana who is in her mid 70s off and down to the floor. Thankfully she wasn't too hurt, but it could have gone very differently.

Seeing her fall, I screamed "Nana!", out of worry for her safety and life. When falling my Nana hit the wooden arm of a rocking chair. Thankfully, or at least I believe, she didn't hit her head. My grandmother could have realistically died that night.

The fight moved to my room she had wrestled me to the floor. We got turned around and she had the door closed behind her. She was standing behind me against the door and had her arms around my arms and neck trying to restrain me. She wouldn't let go, and my fight almost died out there. But I thought "No!" to myself and refused to put up with it. I bit her arm almost as hard as I could. I did not break the skin. But I royally messed up her arm. I was later told it puffed up and turned deep purple, showing every tooth mark. She said I bit down and wouldn't let go. Well yeah, neither would she. Was I just supposed to sit there and take more of the abuse? I got her onto the floor and briefly stood up. This is where I called her out for not having me tested.

I tried to get away but she got me to fall on the floor. I barely had the door open, I had to use all my strength to keep it barely clawed open. She was using her feet to try and keep it closed. She was actually closer to slamming my fingers in the door than I was to slamming hers in earlier. I was lying on the floor facing the door holding it open screaming for help and for the cops to be called. They were not. Nana had come over and helped get the door open. Mom got a kick in near my temple and left a small mark on the side of my head. I had gotten to stand up, but she would not let go.

She grabbed me by the pants and underwear to keep he held in place. Nana screams at her to let go of me. And my mother leaves another mental scar on me. She says she's not holding onto me and starts laughing like she's The Joker. Because technically she isn't holding onto me, she's holding onto my pants. Psychotic. She stretched out my best pair of pants I had worn that day and one of my favorite shirts.I was somehow able to get away from her. I grabbed onto my cane, and stepped out of my room. I got some distance and she was back in the living room too. She went and sat on the couch, her and Nana yelling at each other. Nana would later tell me she never told one of her kids she hated them until that night. After everything that she had put us through. Saying that she did everything for us because she loved us, yet forcing us to keep a secret from Poppy, and forcing me to deal with the trauma of knowing the person that I was supposed to rely on to take good care of me growing up was slowly killing herself the same way someone else I knew did. Poppy was yelling at everyone.

They all wanted me to go back in my room but I was not having it. I had put up with enough abuse. Poppy threatened at me to go get his gun, he was mad at everyone. That's when I almost swung my cane. I didn't but the moment he mentioned a gun I almost made sure he'd be unable to get it. I was confused at the moment at whose side he was on, and he would later apologize to me, and I to him. He's been the source of a lot of issues for my Nana and mother but we never had much a relationship. He is abusive as well. I just tried to make do and not raise hell in the house lest I get kicked out. Me and him could have killed each other that night, but it did not happen thankfully.

I believe poppy was about to call the cops, but then Nana said if he did that she would tell them things that would have them take him away as well. That's why the police never showed. More threats and secrecy from this family. THIS IS ANOTHER REASON I DO NOT FEEL SAFE THERE. When I screamed for the cops to be called, as an actual emergency situation was happening, a threat was held over another family member's head preventing them. While I was still being abused.

It was mostly over at this point. I had called her and everyone out for selling out me, my friends, themselves, their fellow Americans, and just their fellow human beings. I struggled to get the words out without going raspy and coughing. That's what happens after all the screaming and being strangled on top of already having a problem with my esophagus occasionally. Me and Nana went out in the driveway. I immediately started texting my main group chat that a domestic incident had happened, I was not okay, and pinged everyone ringing with the alarm bell at 9:25pm "@everyone my mother started to strangle me". Nana suggested we go to my cousin's. I called her and put her on speaker. I went back in the house briefly to get a couple things, and my cousin heard my mother yelling some stuff over the phone as well. I forget what, but she remembers. We started going over to my cousin and her husband's apartment.

Out of all my family they are the most trustworthy to me. And even then, I still don't know if I can entirely to keep me safe. I hate to say that but my family is encouraging me to go back there, but I just can't trust it. I wish I could, but my mind refuses. Nana was worried that mom would say the black eye from her car crash was actually something I gave her, so you can see the patterns of behavior in my family. We took pictures of the marks my mother left on Nana and I. And I don't know whether this will go to court or not. Honestly I want it to, not for money though. I just want to press charges and make sure that actions have consequences. She chose to put hands on me, she will now have to deal with the full ramifications of what she has done. You put hands on your offspring, you face the music.

Aftermath

After the whole thing was over and I was at my cousin's for the night, we took pictures of the marks my mother left on me as evidence. My shoulders and top of my back hurt to move at all, my right hip hurts when pressure is applied, and it hurts to yawn. I have been hopping couches trying to figure out how to best tackle my situation. With the added setback of no longer having a car, that means I have to bum rides until I get another, and of out of an optional compact mobile home. I'd rather live out of my car on the road than live in that house anymore. I'm treating that house with office hours until I get a place and everything moved out. She left marks on my arms, chest, side of my neck, some barely visible on the top of my back, shoulders and near the bottom of my spine. There were some on my right hip too, but the bruising healed before I got pictures.

Where to go from here?

I am currently out of a car. I will need to buy another one and have it in my name and not my mother's. I am also needing to find a place to stay. If I go back to that house it will only be when I know my mother is out and I can help my grandmother with whatever she needs. I also want to pursue legal action. I said it before, and I'll say it again. I don't want her money or anything else from her ever again and hate that I'm still on her phone plan which I will change soon. I don't know exactly how much I'm going to need. But until I get through some job interviews and hear whether or not I'm hired, I'm gonna need monetary support. I really don't know how much. So I just set a high number.

Anything is appreciated no matter how small. A $2 steak burrito and a 2L of soda keep me fed for a good day or two. (I am a very light eater). To be honest I want to sue and press charges. This was too far for me and there have to be consequences. I don't want her money, I want justice. But priority is my living situation. Followed by job and transportation. I'll have to look for used cars to get. I'll even pass word along to my mother that if she wants she can fix that car's engine and sell it to a friend of mine, but I don't want anything from her again after the threats she held over our heads and the hands she held around my neck. I am done with her in my life. I only want to ever have to deal with her through court. Maybe get a restraining order put in place.

My Feelings about my Mother

My father is not in my life. I cut him out back when I dropped out of community college back in 2021. I had only seen him a few times since regarding the death of my granny (his mother) and my great-grandmother, Mawmaw. He does not accept me as someone who is not straight. He was abusive. He had anger issues. I had always lived in fear of him growing up. I did not love him, I feared him. He had smacked me in the back of the head once when I was 12. They divorced when I was 3. I always loved my mother growing up as much a son raised by a family like this could. I had a genuine love for her. But as I grew more into my own person and lived around her and saw who she continued to be on a personal level, not just with me but with everyone, it faded.

I have very good reason to believe I am somewhere on the Autism Spectrum. I was never tested growing up, not that I remember. I also have an aversion to sorts of medication in a fear spurred on by the opioid epidemic and seeing people I know become slaves to pills even if they are not opioids. I do know my mother had been diagnosed with ADHD and had been getting an Adderall prescription. I wasn't tested, but "peer reviewed" as I have friends diagnosed on the spectrum and heard from the mother of a local Autistic child that I "gave off the vibes". My family does not understand Autism. This may be paraphrasing, but my cousin told me when she was talking to my mother about me, my mother said "He's not autistic, he can drive a car." I have had to live a life masking myself from a certain point onward lest my safety be at more risk than it already was.

I also have reason to believe my family has bipolar disorder. I believe my mother, Poppy, and I have it. I believe I have Bipolar 2, the less severe form. I will need to get tested to confirm or deny my suspicions, but when I read the symptoms I check most of them off and see the me that I have to suppress and learn to deal with. Like it fits me to the T's at the beginning and end of my name. When you see the thing that matches the feeling of your brain rapid-fire ping-ponging back and forth between all kinds of emotions.

My mother provided me with all the material things I ever needed growing up. But material things can only do so much. How I needed her to care for me, and to go to bat for me on the issues that really mattered to my life as her son, she wouldn't. I feel terrible for her and what she had to endure growing up. I can only imagine how hard it must be growing up a woman in Mississippi during the 70s, or how hard it is to be a woman in Mississippi today. But her time is not up and it is not out. I may have dropped out of community college, but I still tackled getting an education, as I am learning and working on side projects hopefully people will get to play someday. I will not deny that I have my failings as a person too. Everyone does and my main issue is with my inability to get a job and getting into a better work ethic. I know I'm not incapable, but for some reasons I still struggle. None of this would have been possible without the support from my mother, and I am grateful for everything that she gave me material-wise.

I feel I was spoiled and lucky growing up, I have had what I feel is a relatively easy ride throughout life. And I have tried to ever avoid acting like a brat. I have also tried to educate myself in deciding what I want to put into this world by the time I'm gone since I have had such a relatively easy ride. But you cannot pay away trauma. She put $50 in my bank account, I'm passing word for her to take it out and either keep it or give it to my grandmother.

I don't want anything from her ever again. I'd rather take my chances here with you internet. She had her chances, and she failed me where I needed her and how I needed her. I had always been worried about being a terrible son in my later teen years and earliest 20s in asking too much of her. Specifically a $1300 graphics card that I could use for work. Yes work, not playing video games. At some points I sent her links and she never got it for me, but I did not care. I genuinely felt that was asking too much of her. I am currently paying back someone else who helped me get a $1600 one but they are generous enough to let me wait given what has happened and the new hole I find myself in. I will also mention that my mother does not make the best financial decisions. For instance, when she had an accident that totaled her other car a couple years ago, she bought a brand new 2024 Toyota RAV4, when she could've gotten something from 2018 or 2019 that would've had everything she needed to keep her safe and make sense in her then budget. She has almost had to declare bankruptcy at one point.

I've had an easier time getting odd jobs and helping with chores here and there than finding a place that will hire me that pays well, but fingers crossed that will change or I will soon be able to support myself without anyone's help at all. The way I have been raised has made me want to. To be honest I planned to try and earn enough money buy my mother a house one day and that be the end of our relationship as that is how much she had hurt me. I had planned to buy her a house and pay her back for raising me in exchange for cutting her out of my life entirely, or at least until she learned how to have a relationship with her son. But that time has passed. She has lost the privilege of getting to be in her son's life. Growing up I had always lived in fear of what my father may have done to me if I were to be my true, genuine self, so I hid it. I never dreamed my mother would strangle me until I felt her hands tighten around my neck and push me into my bedroom door.

Closing

I've set a high amount just guessing as to what I would need. A car along with insurance. A place to stay with water, heat, and electricity. Legal expenses. A phone and internet plan so I can keep in contact with family that needs help. Food. Anything is very much appreciated, no matter how small. Hopefully I could be able to pay back those who donate to me with something down the line. That's just me. I would also appreciate if you would share this around. Thank you for your time.