Is it normal that i hate her?

She beat me with a piece of garden hose... she heated it on top of a stove so it was pliable. She said she could beat me with it forever and no one would know. She said it wouldn't leave a mark. But it did. Permanent marks. But the marks didn't stop her... She beat me with it daily until my father said it was too much. She started beating me with that hose when I was 15. All my life as far back as I can remember there wasn't a day passing when she hadn't shoved me, slapped me, called me names, hit me with her fists (or coat hangers, belts, sticks...), screamed obscenities at me, pulled my arms out of their sockets, rediculed me, threatened me with knives. As I grew up her abuse worsened. Though some have faded with time my body still has many deep scars.. my face, my legs, my back are scarred. My first scar is a deep one ...my forehead. I was 2 years old. My mother shoved me into the corner of a dresser because I was crying. I remember it because my grandmother picked me up and ran to a hospital emergency room with me in her arms. My grandmother then kept me in her care for three years. My mother stole me back when I was 5 and the abuse never stopped. My mother wouldn't let my grandmother see me for nearly 10 years. In that time my mother went so far as to take nude photos of me and sell them to pediphiles. My aunt discovered this and stopped her. When I was 12 she began a new abuse... she would just suddenly grab a pair of scissors and begin roughly chopping my hair off and slapping me (bruising my face... pinching my nose)... then she would force me to pin my hair in pin curls with bobby pins to hide what she'd done. As I began developing into a young woman my mother made fun of me... deliberately humiliating me in public when I asked for Kotex. Instead of Kotex she bought me baby diapers and I had to wash them each month as I used them. She forced me to go to school dressed in the most rediculous clothes. I had to wear bright yellow and black striped knee socks, black and white oxford shoes, bras that were three sizes too big... mismatched skirts and blouses. She forbid me to shave my legs or underarms when I was 16-17 years old. She used the belt to beat me on my legs to make sure I'd have to hide them with socks. I joined the Army a month after I turned 18. I had to get out... I feared I would not live much longer... her hatred and abuse was so terrible I feared going to sleep in the same house. The day I left on a bus she climbed onto the bus and loudly poked fun at me to all the other passengers. The driver had to ask her to leave the bus. I didn't see her again for a year or so but I did write home. At 20 I got married, then at 22 I had a child. She told lies about me and to me. Horrible lies... I avoided contact until finally I stopped having any contact with her at all over 20 years ago. In these years my oldest brother died of a massive heart attack 7 years ago. He was charged with and found guilty of child rape of two of his daughters 14 years ago. My youngest brother was convicted of child abuse of his only son who took his own life when he was only 18 yrs old. My other brother is addicted to drugs... amphetamines, heroin. My father's part in all this: He tried to rape me when I was 13 and then again when I was 16. He would just sit and watch my mother abuse me. He claimed I wasn't his kid so it was okay to screw me. He walked around the house saying "old enough to bleed old enough to breed". He was a truck driver and was hardly ever home until my brothers and I finally moved out. He died of heart failure three years ago. My mother... She is 78 now. She lives alone and in a wheelchair. I don't know if anyone takes care of her or if she's got any care at all. I have no desire at all to ever see or speak to her in my life ever again. I am 62 now. I am a grandmother and my wonderful husband and I are celebrating our 32nd anniversary next month. I've recently retired and I'm living very well and very happily. The violence and abuse and horrors are all long gone. I hardly ever think of it now. As I lived my life as a mother and wife I came to truly realize the ugliness and hate my mother and father brought into my life. I cannot understand why they chose to do this. I cannot imagine the evil that they have in their hearts. I made a decision to never allow this in my life again. Strange... I do not hate my parents... I fear their evil and I pity them so deeply... I feel a great sorrow for them but I never want to see them or speak to them ever again. I have nothing to say or tell them. I don't want to tell them about my grandchildren.. I don't want them to know they exist. Is this normal?