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Rb to give the person you rbed from a warm blanket and their preferred warm drink

For 22 years my parents have hammered away at me, taking big and little pieces alike. I’m cracked now, and broken. Missing chunks here and there. And yet, now that I’m not their legal obligation anymore it falls to me to fix it. Don’t just fix it—find my broken pieces and put them back. Fill the cracks. Why is it my responsibility to fix what others broke? Why does the general consensus change once you turn 18. If I was writing this at age 17 I would have people in my DMs ready to call CPS and telling me to get far far away from my home life. But I’m 22, and so instead people tell me to get my shit together and deal with it. That I can’t blame them anymore because I’m an adult. Am I really an adult? If I never learned how to care for myself? If I was never taught coping skills? If I was raised to hate myself and never feel adequate, how is it my fault that I exist broken. Why do I have to take responsibility for someone else’s mess.

People will say that I’ll waste my life staying bitter. Forgive and forget, move on, better yourself. No. I don’t want to. I want to suffer. I want them to see me suffer. I want them to see what THEY did to me. If I better myself they’ll think it’s ok to treat people this way. Why do we have to do the work to get better? I want them to do it. I want them to take responsibility for terrible parenting and apologize to me. And then I can heal. But I can’t heal now, not like this. Not while these people are still in my ear telling me that I’ve brought this all on myself and that I should know better. People don’t just grow up with life skills. They are supposed to be taught by your parents and the people around you. Where are my fucking life skills that I’m apparently supposed to be so good at by now?

My mom does the same thing. Sometimes I wonder if she has emotions. She often tells me “put a little makeup on, you’ll look better” or even asks “are you really out without makeup on?” As if it’s a crime to exist as a barefaced woman. I used to have an anxiety attack if I left the house without makeup on. I thought everyone would think I was ugly beging belief if I wasn’t wearing makeup in public. It’s no wonder I have such deep self esteem issues. And yet, when I confronted my mother on her behavior as it continued into adulthood, her response was “I’m doing you a favor”. I’m too sensitive, apparently. I’m twisting her words, apparently. Of course I get the same comments about my clothes. “Why don’t you ever wear something nice?” “Why are you always in sweats?”. I gained 80 pounds mom. My clothes don’t fit anymore. This is what makes me feel comfortable. Well apparently I have “a closet full of clothes” and then not fitting in the slightest is no excuse to not wear them. But then when I fo wear things that actually fit, “it looks skin tight. You shouldn’t be wearing that kind of clothing”. What is it, then? What is the answer? I feel like every single thing I do is just deemed WRONG. I am wrong. My choices are wrong. My thoughts are wrong. But then when I ask for advice the answer I get is what I was doing in the first place

And you know what’s even more tragic about this. Sometimes parents will realize what they’ve done. The underlying message of their parenting. The unspoken messages that are sent through repeated actions. My mom doesn’t. He can’t grasp the idea of an underlying message in words. She believes that only the words spoken have impact. So when she says to me “you should put on a little mascara before you leave the house” she doesn’t understand why that sends the message that I’m not valuable without makeup. I tried once to express to her that her opinions were hurtful and she genuinely couldn’t grasp why. To her it’s just a fact, that women look better with makeup. I tried to explain that it sends the message that she views me as not pretty and she asked me “when did I say that? I NEVER said you’re not pretty. You’re my daughter of course I think you’re beautiful. But you could put a little makeup on before leaving the house so you’re more presentable”. She genuinely can’t grasp why saying that is hurtful. What do I even have to work with, in my situation? An abusive mother who has no emotional intelligence at all? Is she a sociopath?

I keep reading these back to myself as I post them. And I continually feel the need to justify and defend myself and my opinions even though I know no one on this site beside myself will ever read this. I feel the need to add exhaustive context so all you imaginary people reading this don’t think yourselves “wow, this girl sucks”. I need to feel valid. Writing these out makes me feel valid. And then I read it back and realize a lack of context pokes holes in my validation. When I say *going out* or *leaving the house*, and in the context of the quotes from my mom you might think I’m hitting a fancy restaurant or bar, maybe going to work or an interview. No. I was going to get ice cream on a summer night with my childhood friends. I’m not why that warrants being “presentable”. I am presentable as is. I am presentable in a hoodie and shorts with my hair in a bun and no makeup on. Because we are getting fucking ice cream. Im going to hop into a pickup truck that smells like weed and buy a $4 sundae with my friends of 15+ years. Im aware of the social expectations and unspoken social dress codes of my society and my area. And I don’t break them. I abide. And so it was so uncalled for in that moment and all others.

My mom does the same thing. Sometimes I wonder if she has emotions. She often tells me “put a little makeup on, you’ll look better” or even asks “are you really out without makeup on?” As if it’s a crime to exist as a barefaced woman. I used to have an anxiety attack if I left the house without makeup on. I thought everyone would think I was ugly beging belief if I wasn’t wearing makeup in public. It’s no wonder I have such deep self esteem issues. And yet, when I confronted my mother on her behavior as it continued into adulthood, her response was “I’m doing you a favor”. I’m too sensitive, apparently. I’m twisting her words, apparently. Of course I get the same comments about my clothes. “Why don’t you ever wear something nice?” “Why are you always in sweats?”. I gained 80 pounds mom. My clothes don’t fit anymore. This is what makes me feel comfortable. Well apparently I have “a closet full of clothes” and then not fitting in the slightest is no excuse to not wear them. But then when I fo wear things that actually fit, “it looks skin tight. You shouldn’t be wearing that kind of clothing”. What is it, then? What is the answer? I feel like every single thing I do is just deemed WRONG. I am wrong. My choices are wrong. My thoughts are wrong. But then when I ask for advice the answer I get is what I was doing in the first place

And you know what’s even more tragic about this. Sometimes parents will realize what they’ve done. The underlying message of their parenting. The unspoken messages that are sent through repeated actions. My mom doesn’t. He can’t grasp the idea of an underlying message in words. She believes that only the words spoken have impact. So when she says to me “you should put on a little mascara before you leave the house” she doesn’t understand why that sends the message that I’m not valuable without makeup. I tried once to express to her that her opinions were hurtful and she genuinely couldn’t grasp why. To her it’s just a fact, that women look better with makeup. I tried to explain that it sends the message that she views me as not pretty and she asked me “when did I say that? I NEVER said you’re not pretty. You’re my daughter of course I think you’re beautiful. But you could put a little makeup on before leaving the house so you’re more presentable”. She genuinely can’t grasp why saying that is hurtful. What do I even have to work with, in my situation? An abusive mother who has no emotional intelligence at all? Is she a sociopath?

Do I deserve it? Did I bring all this onto myself? My mom and my therapist are telling me so. I made the mistake of thinking my therapist was my friend, someone who understood me. Instead, she took 1 phone call from my manipulative mother and decided that I must be lying. There’s no way the woman she spoke to on the phone could be responsible for the things I tell her. The same woman who told me that I am the worst thing to ever happen to her. The woman who punched a hole in my childhood bedroom wall. The woman who told me countless times that the money she spent on me was my fault. The woman who will venmo me $40 out of the blue and then consider it an IOU. The woman who punished me for everything while my sibling could lie, steal, curse, and get physical and only got sympathy. Because my mom made a polite phone call I must be lying to her and to myself. I feel like the whole world is gaslighting me. I feel utterly lost and misplaced. Is it me? I wish someone would just tell me. I wish someone could watch my life as a movie and tell me if I’m the villain or not.

My first relationship and my first love taught me what gaslighting was. My ex used to tell me that I played the “victim” all the time and that I was just too sensitive and taking things the wrong way. He isolated me from my friends. Whenever I made plans that didn’t involve him he conveniently had a “big surprise” planned for me that day at that time and I just had to cancel my plans with friends otherwise he would be so depressed he might commit. That’s what he told me. And so I felt I had no choice. I wasn’t depressed at the time and didn’t understand that he wasn’t either—he was manipulating me. But I thought he was a risk to himself so I made him my priority. He isolated me from my family too. I do have good family, despite the terrible parenting. My grandparents and aunts and uncles are pure and positive people. He would belittle me, tell me to go on a diet, that eating more than 900 calories a day was way too much. And so I ate 900 calories a day with him monitoring my every meal. And when I finally went home at night I ravaged the freezer for food. He told me I was stupid. I was in Highschool at the time, taking Advanced Placement classes mostly. And he wasn’t. He couldn’t qualify for those classes. But according to him my AP classes meant nothing bc I went to public school and he went to private school. So I should’ve known his classes would be more difficult and that actually I was just dumb and my classes were dumbed down. And when I expressed that this was offensive to me, he told me to stop playing the victim. He did say sorry though. “I’m sorry you twisted my words to hurt your own feelings”.

From the day I was born, everything had been my fault. Parents can’t afford to have a kid? My fault for existing and requiring food, shelter, clothing, etc. i wanted to try a sport? My fault when the bill came to my mom for team fees. When I needed food, and clothes, and shampoo for my hair. My fault, for needing so much of those things. When I wanted to go to college but my parents didn’t save any money for me. My fault, for not saving myself, as a child and minor who can’t open a bank account. Now, when I’m so severely mentally ill that I can barely hold a job or attend school. My fault, for existing this way. It’s almost like I’ve been told that I’m a burden since the day I was born. People talk about me like I’m dead now. They talk about “little OP” as if they were reminiscing on someone else. “You were so sweet, kind, and good natured. What happened? Haha”. “You used to love being the center of attention and now you spend so much time alone”. “You used to have such high aspirations”. I can’t anymore. My biggest challenge of the day is waking up. And staying awake. Sleep is such a respite from the intense self loathing I feel. How can I possibly be good enough, when my best is waking up.

And you might be thinking, after reading all this, that I grew up in poverty. I didn’t. My parents drive luxury cars. BMW and Audi. I have a car too; a 20 year old used car that’s rusting and breaks down once a year. There’s no money to help me pay my health insurance in my most desperate time of need, but hey OP, what color should we paint the newly renovated bathroom? Does your childhood bedroom need a brand new ceiling fan for no reason? My family can afford a private vacation in the Bahamas but when I needed $25 for my credit card bill because I ended up in the emergency room and couldn’t work for 4 weeks, that’s asking way too much. I’m irresponsible. I’m lazy. I’m not the victim. I’m a leech. I’m delusional. I must be delusional. It’s the only explanation for all this. There’s no way that I can possibly be treated this poorly for no reason, right? I must deserve it.