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I feel like my whole life is a lie.
1 month ago · · mental health, · Explicit
Just realised talking to a phone counselor that my mum and I were psychologically abused by my dad (and step-mum) over the course of my entire childhood and that every single adult I trusted gaslit me into believing it was fine and normal up until now. I was severely anxious, clinically depressed, and suicidal at ten years old. My dad has changed significantly for the better since then but is still in denial of his mistakes even now. I am sixteen now. I am so furious and I feel so, so betrayed.
They let me blame myself for the trauma I endured for years and would have let me do so for the rest of my life if I hadn’t said anything. Now all I get is a fucking, wow, you’re so mature for figuring it out.
I hated myself so much. I cannot overstate this. I have blamed myself for my entire life and I was so embarrassed and ashamed of not being good enough for him for my entire child and teenhood.
I feel so stupid for not piecing it together earlier and so furious that nobody told me. I am in so much pain. I have suffered so much and I always thought it was my own fault because I didn’t realise I couldn’t trust any of these fucking people to tell me the goddamn truth just because they thought it would ruin my perception of my dad. Every adult I have trusted in my life has severe mental health issues and generational trauma. And no one told me that their continuous actions passing that trauma down to me were anything but normal parenting.
I don’t understand how they all cared more about how I saw my dad than they cared about my own well-being. I desperately needed someone to validate my feelings for years and no one did it. I understand that they all love me and are doing their best but I feel like I just realised I was in the goddamn matrix.
I feel like my whole life is a slowly unraveling lie that I just get to pick at the threads of as I get older. A sad attempt at normalcy plastered over decades of unresolved generational trauma and strung together by a group of sad, traumatised people who didn’t know any better but, shit, maybe just weren’t fit to be parents when they became them either.
And then there’s me. What the fuck do I do with this? I want to find better than this for myself. I don’t think it’s ungrateful to want not to be constantly fighting exhaustion and misery and sadness all of the time, day after day, just working harder and taking more personal responsibility because then maybe that will fix me. Maybe then my mum and I will start being okay like she always says we are, even though we both know it’s not true. Like she wasn’t so mentally unhealthy for the past decade she’s made herself chronically sick.
My heart aches for her. But I don’t feel like I can trust her anymore.
I love my mum so much and I know she loves me very much too, but she keeps giving me bad advice. Keeps asking me to take on more adult responsibilities than I can handle, keeps asking me to forgive people who haven’t even stopped hurting us.
I do have a family who deeply loves me and who I love, but I feel like they’ve let me down regardless. I just wish they could acknowledge the past. Acknowledge my pain so that I can move past it rather than denying to themselves and to me that it’s even there. That there might just be a reason why I am so sad now.
I’m so glad I know now, but I just feel so lied to. Like I could have been hoping for better all of this time if anyone had stopped to tell me what I am going through isn’t normal or fine. Like I could have forgiven myself, let myself rest, rather than desperately trying to repent for failing adults who in reality, failed me.
I wish I had some experience of a childhood. I wish I wasn’t forced to be so responsible all of the time. I wish I didn’t spend so many years giving my family and friends therapy and mediating just to keep the peace. That I could have been happy. Carefree. That I could have had fun without being shamed for it. That I could remember a time as a kid when I ever felt good enough, when my life was stable, when I felt okay. Even genuinely happy in a way that was more than momentary. I felt so much dread. I felt so much pain, and my dad and step-mum both make fun of me occasionally for my “melodramatic” response to it to this day. (Crying, trying to save suicidal people online, hiding in my room, running away.)
I am grieving the child I never had the chance to be. I feel freer, but I don’t know the kind of adult I want to become. I wish I didn’t have to figure it out yet.
None of my family are bad people, and they have all fought so hard through their own pain and trauma to do right by me. Have all loved me deeply and unconditionally and have wished me no ill will, have all grown tremendously as people and as parents over the years. Have all come to grips with parts of their own trauma and are still coming to grips with others.
I just wish things weren’t so complicated for them and for me. I wish that happiness could come a little easier to all of us.