I know I’ve been gone for a while and I’ve been dealing with some high pain levels, having to get Peaches surgery to remove a tumour and having to put Splinter to sleep because she developed a Pituitary Tumour and there’s no surgery to fix that. It’s been a rough couple of months and the past few days really haven’t helped. This is going to be a long post about my parents and the way they’ve treated me. It might be a trigger for those of you going through, or been through, something similar.
I know there are lots of people who struggle with parental issues and while my teenage years were at best tolerable and at worst torturous I thought that now I was a grown ass adult, I’m 31 in a few short weeks, that my parents would at least pretend to have a level of respect for me that they would show another adult.
This is apparently not the case. I’m not even sure where to start with this because I spent most of yesterday bouncing between upset, angry and offended and while I’m not sitting around bawling my eyes out like I was yesterday the feelings definitely have not gone away.
So let’s start with some back story. My father is a bully and my mother is an enabler.
She allows him to treat me, specifically, with a level of what I can only describe as hatred that I normally would reserve for my biggest enemies. The worst part is he bounces in and out of it with such dramatic swings that I feel like I could get whiplash just watching him. He does things that make me think… ‘wow, my Dad is actually being a Dad. I guess he really does like me.’… only for him to turn around mere moments later and say or do something so horrific that I start wondering if he’s actually two people. Baring in mind that I have TWO siblings who are both younger than me and I’ve never seen either of my parents display the level of contempt they appear to have for me towards either of them.
I haven’t lived with them for about 10 years. I moved an hour away from where they live to go to university. They think it’s because the university course I wanted to do wasn’t available in the university that would have allowed me to live at home. It was because I wanted out. I wanted to be away from the torment that is my father and mother. I don’t remember being hugged, I don’t remember being encouraged, I don’t remember being told I did a good job. If these things did happen the level of resentment I hold for them has wiped it from my memory.
You may think I’m overreacting and sometimes I think it myself. I’ve always wanted my family to like me and try to understand me but no matter how hard I try it’s never seemed to happen. I was bullied a lot growing up and while most people would consider their home a safe haven mine was just another place where I was bullied. He picked on me constantly about my weight. Every time I put any form of food near my lips he’d comment on it. He’d say I looked like the side of a house, like a beached whale, like a tank and other loving comments every teenage girl wants to hear. He’d comment on my hair, my clothes, my make-up. Nothing was how he wanted it look and that meant he had to speak the ‘truth’ and tell me how terrible it was. He thinks spouting his opinion left and right is the truth and that if you can’t handle his ‘truth’ then it’s your problem and not his.
When it wasn’t him personally it was him and my enabling mother allowing my siblings to pick, pick, pick at me like vultures until I reached my limit and snapped. Once I snapped I was punished for being mean to my siblings yet they were allowed to continue picking at me.
So moving for me was the break I needed from a home that was anything but a safe, loving environment. They weren’t happy about this and I foolishly though it was because they would miss me but I’m beginning to think the reality of it is that they were losing their emotional punching bag. I think they took a level of joy in emotionally torturing me until I broke and then making me feel worse by calling me over emotional and too sensitive when it happened.
It’s continued through the years. My siblings still pick at me every time they can, my father still shares his ‘truths’ until I want to curl up in a corner and die. I’ve considered suicide more times that I care to admit because of how they make me feel. Because of how much of an outcast I feel within my own family and yet something inside me still wants them to love me. They won’t. They never did. They never will.
It all started coming to a head about two weeks ago. My father received a Christmas Gift that was a ride on some zip line in North Wales. At Christmas time we’d all talked about going and my Dad had made a point of saying we’d all go as a family. He repeatedly talking about making a night of it, even if I couldn’t ride the zip line. He made a fuss about making sure to remind my fiancé to book time off work and it would be a big family adventure. Everyone was excited and for the first time in as long as I could remember I felt included. They’d done so many other ‘family’ things without me and I’d find the ‘family pictures’ on Facebook and I wasn’t in them. I thought things were changing for the better. I was wrong.
I found the pictures of them all in North Wales while I was sat in the bus station waiting for my bus. I’d been to see my doctor and my bus was a good 45 minute wait so I decided to flip through Facebook to pass the time. They popped up right away. Pictures of them all together having fun on the zip line, pictures of them out at the pub afterwards having family meals and drinks with not only my siblings but their respective partners. Where was my invite? Wasn’t I supposed to be going to?
I sent my mother a text message asking where my invite was. She responded telling me that I wouldn’t have liked it because those not on the zip line had, had to wait around in the cold for a while. I responded to tell her that I never got the opportunity to find out because I hadn’t been invited. She didn’t respond. No apology for not inviting me. Not even a fake ‘oh we forgot’. Nothing. I spent the 45 minutes sat in the bus station desperately trying not to break down in public. The last thing I needed was people trying to ask me if I was okay.
Once I got home I cried for a while and then I posted a status on Facebook saying that ‘We’ll all go’ means everyone except me. This was the first time I’ve never dared to voice my feelings over being left out. I’ve never once told them how what they say and do makes me feel but having had to put Splinter to sleep earlier in the week I had way too many emotions to contain and this one had to come out. I found out yesterday that this comment enraged my mother but more on that later.
So we’ve finally hit what happened yesterday. My father is a racist, homophobic, sexist man and loves to share posts from a vile, disgusting excuse of a Facebook group called Britain First. They’re a lesser known political party in the UK and their motto way as well be ‘if you aren’t white, fuck off’ because that’s exactly what their vile pushing of anything not white or ‘British’ is. I hate everything they stand for and I’d pretty much hit my limit of seeing him repost this filth.
I decided that I would ask him to stop. I left a comment on his latest racist, hate filled repost telling him that he should probably stop reposting things from the Britain First FB group. He almost immediately sent me a FB message telling me that if I had a problem with what he posted that I should inbox him because he ‘doesn’t share his live [sic] on this site’. I explained that everything he shares from Britain First says a lot about his life. I got the following response:
From my Dad. The man who is supposed to be loving, supportive and a role model for me had that as a response to me. It took me a while to digest it so I called my mother. She answered the phone with a huff and a ‘hello’ to which I said ‘He doesn’t get to say fuck you to me’. She hung up immediately. I called back, I was crying by this point, and was desperately trying to get her to understand that what he’d said to me was unacceptable. Not in her eyes.
She screamed and lectured me that he could post whatever he wanted on Facebook and I had no right to say otherwise. She screamed at me about the status update about them leaving me out of the North Wales trip. Every time I tried to speak she’d hang up on me like a petulant teenager. She eventually turned off her phone and I had to resort to calling the home number. They would refuse to answer and when they did they wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say. Eventually I managed to convince her to just stop and listen to what I had to say. I explained they’d hurt my feelings about the trip and she told me to grow up, despite her being the one throwing a temper tantrum right now, and proceeded to give me a list of reasons why I couldn’t go them. Most of them seemed to revolve around my disability and I think it’s the first time they’ve ever used it against me and that hurt more than anything. An apology would have fixed that entire ‘family trip’ issue but I won’t be getting one. She hung up mid sentence again.
My father finally answered the phone and told me that none of my siblings or family had the audacity to comment on his Facebook posts and that I had no right. I tried explaining that people on Facebook can see what he reposts and if he posts it he gives people the opportunity and right to comment. He told me I was laughing-stock of the family and that they all think I’m pathetic and hung up.
I kept trying to call to have them keep ignoring it and sending it to the voice mail. When my mother did answer it was to screech at me how she ‘wasn’t getting involved’ and when I asked if she thought it was acceptable he spoke to me that way she said it was. She’d started swearing at me and telling me it was my fault she was now swearing. My Dad was yelling things across the room in the meantime about how I should fuck off. I asked to talk to him so that I could apologise for commenting on his Facebook post, even though I had nothing to apologise for, and he could apologise for what he’d said to me. He refused and said he was done with me. My mother told me to ‘let it drop’ and hung up.
They made it so I couldn’t call them back by answering the phone, muting it and leaving it in the base with my call still connected. As you can imagine I was devastated. Despite the way they treat me I kept wanting them to see me as a family member and not the black sheep or failed first attempt they see me as.
At first I was upset but the more I thought about the more angry I grew. I didn’t resort to personal attacks about being a laughing-stock of the family or how I’d pathetic. I didn’t swear or screech like a banshee. I simply asked him to stop reposting racist posts and suddenly I’m disowned?
I think now it’s too late for an apology. I think the reason they turned on me so harshly is because I dared to show my hurt feelings about the family trip. I’m guessing feeling guilty for leaving me out has made them try to justify it by being angry at me for having feelings. I guess it makes it easier for them to cope with their guilt by making it my fault. How dare she have hurt feelings!
My mother made sure to throw in a few choice phrases while she was screeching at me. Most of them about me being ungrateful for all the things they do for me. How I receive so much more from them than my brother and sister (on what fucking planet??!?!) and that they bought me a washing machine. Which is true, they did. I offered, more than once, to give them the money for it to which my mother brushed it off and said it was a gift. Gifts apparently only count when they’re not holding them against you, once it becomes something to scream about it’s no longer a gift. Now it’s a reason why I’m an ungrateful little bitch.
I’d be lying if I said my parents never did anything for me because they did. They helped me move, they got carpet for my house and they’ve bought me things I needed. I didn’t ask for any of these things, these are thing they’ve offered to me as gifts and I’ve always been completely grateful. But that’s where their love ends, at the end of their credit card. I’m not sure whether they think they can fix the years of emotional abuse with money or that they don’t even realise they were abusive parents and just think money is how you show love. Just because someone doesn’t hit doesn’t mean they aren’t abusive. However money doesn’t justify being bullied by my own father, it doesn’t justify being made to feel so small that I wanted to die, it doesn’t justify talking to me like I’m something you scraped off the bottom of my shoe.
A friend of mine has a similar issue and we went through some of the main points that people with Narcissistic Personality Disorder display. My father has ever last one of them except physical abuse. The more I think about how they treated me as a child, as a teenager and even now as an adult the more I realise that he is a Narc Parent. I am the scapegoat, my siblings are the golden children, he is the narc parent and my mother is the enabler.
I’m not sure right now if I’m able to forgive him for the things he said to me yesterday. I offered an apology, like an adult, but he refused it. I’ve had time to sit and think and while he never deserved the apology it is now no longer on offer. He doesn’t deserve to be forgiven. I may calm down enough to ‘let it drop’ and we can go back to pretending that I’m okay with how they treat me but I will never forgive him or her for yesterday. I won’t ever be going home for Christmas again (I only used to do this to help out my mother because during Christmas they all become rowdy, drunk twats and my mother ends up feeling very frustrated, angry and unsupported – wow what a drag huh?). I won’t be calling them. I won’t be asking for help or offering my help either. I’m going low or no contact to keep my mental health in check.
That is if they decide that the disowning thing was just them overreacting. They may not and I don’t necessarily think that it’s a bad thing any more. I might just be better off.