My mother was abusive. She hit me when I had a stuttering problem because she convinced herself that I did it on purpose. She would lock me in a dark room until I stopped crying, and now I can't help but flinch at a sudden raised hand, and I'm scared of the dark. She was a heavy alcoholic, and now she has moved on with another family, getting to live out the rest of her life in a stable home whilst I'm left picking up the pieces of myself that she left behind. She told me that I'd be raped if I wore Z, Y, and Z, and she destroyed my confidence to the point where it's still difficult to make friends.
My father is emotionally absent. He went as far to tell me that "It's normal" when I mentioned wanting therapy for my suicidal thoughts, denying me any outside help. He has told me to "stop sulking and acting sad around the house" because it brings everyone else down. Now, I suppress any negative emotions so no one else can see vulnerability.
So, I thought that my step mum was my second chance, a mother who may love me the way I want to be loved. But she has punched walls just because someone ate her food in the fridge, left dents in the fridge from her knuckles, smashed plates to the floor when they weren't cleaned properly. Her temper is something that I've never seen from anyone else, but it can be "justified" because--as she says it--she's never laid a hand on any of us, so she can't be that bad, right? She can be very nasty, and her double standards are insane... If we do something small like turning the dishwasher on when it is only half full, she will shout across the house for easily up to an hour about the waste of water, but God forbid if anyone points out any mistake she makes. I'm in a constant state of fawn or freeze, and it's absolutely exhausting.
When I realized that they can only agree with "hurt people hurt people" when they are the victim, I also realized that they'll never understand my feelings, no matter how much I plead for them to. I resent them, but I love them so, so much. The only reason why I'm still here is because of the excitement on my father's face when I agree to watch a movie with him, the fear in his eyes and his shaky hands when he did almost lose me, the thought of him growing old without a daughter.
A parent should never have to bury a child... but being a parent doesn't give you the right to make me feel like that's an option.
I want to feel like I'm not alone.
