Man, my poor daughter.
This was her life. When her mom died she dealt with the guilt that followed her relief.
Having known her mom all of my life and seen everything she went through as a child, I wish some kind of ghost of Christmas past could take my daughter and show her so she can see that her mom wasn’t always like that. That at one time she was a little girl waiting on the day she could escape her own mom. At one point she was young and a lot like her.
I always figured they’d get it right when she grew up, but she never got that chance.
FUCK CANCER. Seriously.
Replace mom with dad, and this is my childhood.
You don’t know trauma unless you’ve been raised by a bipolar narcissist with anxiety and anger issues. My dad was a master at sucking all the energy out of a room and ruining the vibe with his selfish, fear-mongering bullshit.
Same here and it all starts with them opening a door and walking in. I hate that I still think about that feeling in my 30’s.
Know how you feel. I’m almost 40, and even though my dad has been dead for 5 years now, the feeling still won’t go away. The PTSD is so bad that loud voices startle me, and I can’t use a computer if someone is looking over my shoulder.
My dad taught me how to lie and obsess over privacy so I wouldn’t feel his wrath. I should be in therapy.
Nothing teaches you to sneak around better than an angry/violent parent. I learned how to walk around the creaky house at night silently and without a light on. Stay strong fellow lemmy 💪
Had to have the landlord come and fix a relatively minor issue with our shower. About lost my mind making sure the place looked presentable for him to fix something he’s responsible for. Trauma sucks
Can relate.
some of my earliest memories are lying in bed in terror waiting for the sound of my abusive fathers work truck to pull into the driveway. I got to where like a dog i could identify his specific truck as soon as it was in audible range. Sometimes I could pretend to be asleep and I might get left alone a while.
It’s many decades later, I live in a very safe place and the patriarch who rules the roost here doesn’t even raise his voice much less hit me. All the same i get a sharp spike of fear every time he pulls up in the driveway. It took me a few years of work and therapy to be able to stay downstairs and not have to flee upstairs when he got home.
It’s shameful how many people’s first bullies are the people they need to look to for safety. It really breaks you.
I had a similar reaction when I heard our garage door open when my father got home.
I guess this is only funny if you were not abused as a kid.
I had a roommate that asked me if I was funny or had a happy childhood.
Ehm, I think the abuse is the joke. But the coming home part is just a stereotype (apart from drinking). The abusers I experienced become violent if slightly provoked or just randomly.
I feel like the majority of people’s default response to abuse is fear and/or submission. My much older brother was like that too.
I on the other hand always had anger and survival instinct instead, and remember even as a kid planning on how to use a knife in case it was needed, and going for the neck, or how to maybe escape a machete. Even being beaten nearly to death didn’t stop me from doing what I wanted, and if anything only make my anger stronger then.
I wonder what determines how one will be? At least in my anecdotal data, it seems to be genetic. But then, why is most people’s reaction to abuse fear and/or submission? Could it be thousands of years of human history, where conquering, enslavement, and pillaging led to an increased survival rate of the quiet ones passing down this trait? I’d imagine in much more ancient times, aggression against aggressors would have been more likely to have led to death after all than complacency.
And is this why we see less and less revolutions now as well, in part? Why society has become more tolerable against oppressors and injustices?
Idk. Just random thoughts had while sleepy on a really late night.
This is how I knew I didn’t live in a happy home. My brother and I got along well when our father was not around. (I wouldn’t say he was an abusive father. Just not a person anyone enjoys being around for extended time. He’s an ex military man who’s life was too rough for anyone to come out happy. And emotionally cold.)
Pretty much same here, but dad was a cop. And not emotionally cold, which made it probably a different kind of fucked up. (Got both the I-love-yous and the getting-taken-care-of and the familial-physical-proximity, but then also got the “I’mma teach you <x> by screaming at you”, “insulting and shaking you when you fail”, and the “SHUT UP I’M TRYING TO WATCH THE NEWS” during dinners.)
I’m pretty sure this is one of the reasons why today, as a grown ass adult, I just wish to stay at home by my wholesome / with the SO and never call my friends and family. I’m just content… nay, I’m hanging to my calm and peace with my life, to the point of it being a problem.
This. And my family is like, why do you never come around???
Spend 20 minutes with them, “you still dating her?! We think dating outside the race and a trans women… We just don’t agree.”
Me “whelp, This has been fun. I’ll see yall never.”
Funny story, this is one of the major reasons I filed for divorce.
Have you ever told a funny family story and everyone around you recoils in horror?
you learn not to after a while.
We all have our own contexts for what is “normal.”
That… wasn’t funny at all!
No, it sure wasn’t!
It is now!
Yes! That’s what I was hoping for!
Why were you married to your mom?
Insert “deliverance” banjo music here.
Got you
What would life be like if you could file for other people’s divorces?
When it comes to parents, it’s just called disowning.
Yeah same. Filed two weeks ago.
Good for you. Hang in there, it’s worth it.
😂
Can’t believe you were with my ex you ol stud 😏
every time I hear a old shitty truck engine rattle up near where I’m at, and hear the doors open and slam shut. fucking panic attack city.
We had a long driveway. I quickly learned how to position myself to be able to see out the window and prepare before being seen.
That was also around the same time I learned how to quickly make a bug-out bag, a bit of cryptography(My dad and I had a code language, just in case), and just how far I can be pushed before physical response is my only response.
There isn’t enough therapy in the world.
Oof. Hope things are better for you and your dad
Mostly, yeah. He’s practically getting to live his dream these days, after going through a pretty long rough patch.
I’m still untangling things, in my own way, but I can also recognize the strides I’ve been able to make with it. It’s taken many a long year to get to the point where even talking about it didn’t leave me shaking in anger or fear, and I consider that a major improvement. Shaking off the last shadows from the monster.
:/
Those kids are literally me whenever anyone in the building makes a noise.
The key enter the front door, and shit’s about to get real.
