foreveralone2099
Bronze Member
my mom is a bipolar sadist whose bad moods were always my fault. my dad made excuses for her temper and watched silently and she, and later my brother, punched, bit, kicked and insulted me.
i entered adulthood, shy, terribly insecure, and with a fear of anyone touching me. i let people take advantage of me again and again, because i felt i deserved it. when i got sick and had to leave school they cut me off financially for a while so as to punish me and then stopped paying my doctors bills. when i confront them about this behavior it's still all my fault.
i begged the police for help, but my parents say i am the bad, crazy one and they believe me. everyone who knew my parents thought they were good. they were smart, successful, goodlooking. i was the bad kid who never quite made it. but really i was the lightning rod for their dysfunction, a role i continue to play throughout my life. at work, at school, i am the bad, lazy one, the slut who angered the nice young man into hitting her, the drudge who can't get the glasses clean just so.
there's a certain degree of wisdom that comes with suffering, and it bothers me sometimes that my cynicism is seen as dangerous. i've been victimized sexually on middle-aged men and now i know how to flip the tables. the same to unethical employers and abusive managers; i play their game much better than they do now.
this knowledge of dysfunction leaves one cold, bitter and callous and many days i wake up in the morning finding that i don't like myself much anymore; i don't like the person who i have become.
i entered adulthood, shy, terribly insecure, and with a fear of anyone touching me. i let people take advantage of me again and again, because i felt i deserved it. when i got sick and had to leave school they cut me off financially for a while so as to punish me and then stopped paying my doctors bills. when i confront them about this behavior it's still all my fault.
i begged the police for help, but my parents say i am the bad, crazy one and they believe me. everyone who knew my parents thought they were good. they were smart, successful, goodlooking. i was the bad kid who never quite made it. but really i was the lightning rod for their dysfunction, a role i continue to play throughout my life. at work, at school, i am the bad, lazy one, the slut who angered the nice young man into hitting her, the drudge who can't get the glasses clean just so.
there's a certain degree of wisdom that comes with suffering, and it bothers me sometimes that my cynicism is seen as dangerous. i've been victimized sexually on middle-aged men and now i know how to flip the tables. the same to unethical employers and abusive managers; i play their game much better than they do now.
this knowledge of dysfunction leaves one cold, bitter and callous and many days i wake up in the morning finding that i don't like myself much anymore; i don't like the person who i have become.