Been masking my whole life to make others feel comfortable. my parents feelings always superseded everyone else’s. they were never truly able to handle anything slightly emotionally taxing…the burden to always protect their egos while their response to any unplanned thing was met with violence and yelling and hitting.

Add a mountain sized portion of religion. Constant. Endless. Our only relationship is through the lense of a religion they can’t prove is real, helpful, or good but they’ve sacrificed the entirety of our relationship over the possibility that a god might exist and save them. The same god that…well. We all have eyes. There’s been no saving of anyone.

My parents stayed married. They both worked. Money wasn’t terrible. But they fucking hated being parents. They hated having to do anything. They couldn’t handle having sons that wanted to grow up, even less a daughter. When we didn’t learn fast enough, they beat us in to performance. No discussions. No thoughts of our own. Just obey and behave. The very essence of me being a child was offensive to them, and there wasn’t room for curiosity for things that didn’t immediately benefit my future adult self.

So now life has reached a fever pitch and the mask is slipping. I can’t stay happy. I can’t keep up appearances. Taking care of myself is getting really hard. I think about toaster baths and feel filled with guilt. But what can I say…My neurodivergent, likely autistic brain heard “treat others the way you want to be treated” and its stuck to bones. Despite being misunderstood and gaslit by people who seemed to never understand me I deeply feel this need to get it right and to be kind even when no one is looking.

Having to carry my families untamed and often explosive reactions and stay the way they wanted, while carrying the unbearable burden of pleasing a demanding omnipotent got who might disappear my family at any moment and leave me behind because I was awful and bad and dirty inside? Also I was like 7.

I’m just not sure what kind of trajectory I’m supposed to have when my nerves feel fraught with anxiety. I feel over prepared for things that don’t matter and too scared to do anything that does.

I need an “I survived a cult” (technically 2) support group or something. Or “I survived thinking my parents were never going to come home despite them beating the fuck out of us and being very scared of them”. Still working on a name.

Still can’t get over my mom saying it’s a miracle us kids didn’t pull a Menéndez brothers on them. Never thought she’d acknowledge just how fucked up it was. I let out a guffaw. I hate that word but honestly. At least it’s a form of validation that it wasn’t all just in my head.

I just can’t get over your use of mental health language. you used this language to convince me you were safe, knowing everything I’ve already been through.

I joked about not being able to handle more trauma but you don’t understand. There’s a ceiling and I’ve hit it. And the walls just keep closing in on me.

Begging at the alter for peace and safety. For something stable.

Even if I were to talk there’s nothing to be said and no one to say it too. I’m their favorite cheerleader.

When I’m dead they’ll say they miss me, but I’m right here.