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Colorful and hopefully optimistic but maybe hateful occasionally

Do you think after all he did to you, that was true?
My instinct is no. But I know it's really complicated. I think he loved me only because when he got depressed I'd be there to help him not feel useless.

But I had a better example with this yesterday.

My dad's dad had a laser surgery so he could stop having to use a catheter. He has been recovering but not as quickly as he wanted to. He sat down, exhausted after taking the trash out, and told my grandma in a sad voice, "I just feel useless."

All that had to be said was, "Now, let's not go THERE. That's a distortion!" And he felt like he should repay the kindness.

I can think of times my dad was really nice to me and treated me really well. But it was probably just honeymoon stage stuff. Some of it, anyway. Not 100% but he was a giant piece of shit so I'm not totally sure what I should take seriously from him.

He has been respecting my new boundary of not talking to him for some reason. Though someone in public who I didn't recognize told me I should give him a chance. Old men "mellow out." I know that's true, but it doesn't mean they stop being psychopaths.

I thought my little bro was his favorite for years. It took my therapist to snap me out of that. My current T was also my little bro's T. She told me I couldn't sugar coat my dad like he did because she already knew about it, lol.

I never really liked him growing up. In a group therapy I admitted that I was still worried about him and that there must be an instinct there, but really, I am just worried he'll be sad that I'm around. His birthday is coming up again and I really hate that day. I'm always relieved on holidays when he doesn't text me to wish me a happy whatever, lol

It's okay though. I think he loved only in a very selfish way and I don't think therapy would help him be less anti-social any more than therapy could make me less gay. It's just how he is.

I should maybe apply those thoughts to my mom? Might be easier to do when I move out! Though I'm going to keep talking to my mom. She actually cares about people, which in my opinion is the best human trait lol
 
Oh hun, you keep trying to justify things in your head.

When I look at your situation with your parents I think they don't deserve the care and affection you have for them, even your dad who you hate.

Imagine I was the one who went through what you went through, and I was the one who had your parents and your sense of obligation, what would you think and tell me here?

Sure, your mom cares about people. But she wasn't and isn't a proper parent to you. She helps you and has helped you sometimes, yes, but does that erase the past?

Like, we both live in this bubble that we desperatly want out. If we can't get out right now, we need to protect ourselves. That means no excuses or justifications for their behavior, also.
 
Oh hun, you keep trying to justify things in your head.

When I look at your situation with your parents I think they don't deserve the care and affection you have for them, even your dad who you hate.

Imagine I was the one who went through what you went through, and I was the one who had your parents and your sense of obligation, what would you think and tell me here?

Sure, your mom cares about people. But she wasn't and isn't a proper parent to you. She helps you and has helped you sometimes, yes, but does that erase the past?

Like, we both live in this bubble that we desperatly want out. If we can't get out right now, we need to protect ourselves. That means no excuses or justifications for their behavior, also.
This! :hug:
 
I'll get back to that later.

Just here to say that I think I would be happier if I were homeless. I can't handle all this shit in this house.

Just did the dishes. No counter space. Nowhere to put the dishes. Tried to put a cup in a cabinet. Avalanche. I don't even know where the stuff came from because the counters are still covered with shit. Just shit everywhere. This is so unfair. I can't believe I have to live here. I'm sick of the negativity and the flashbacks and the helplessness. I hate this place. I would rather live in my car. I might drive to Florida tomorrow. Waiting to make sure I'm not just dysregulated.
 
I always liked cleaning and doing the dishes. But not here. I can't stand the sound of the fishtank. I still can't get to it. My mom and my sister cooperated when Kenny made me neglect them to death. Their bodies are still in there. I can't get over there to clean them or bury them. I hate the sound of the filter trying to work without water in it. It hasn't had water for years. There were eels, turtles, rescued neon tetras, frogs, snails, ghost fish, those side-of-the-tank sucking fish that my dad kept killing who I thought I'd finally be able to protect. I was called selfish for protecting them. I had to watch cats die horrible deaths. And cover it up to prevent it from hurting my sibling.

I can't take it here. Every single room is a flashback. I'm so angry.
 
We would clean the house and Kenny would sit there telling us that we were just useless teenagers and couldn't do shit without him there. And he refused to say anything positive because "then you would all start doing less work because you think you can get away with it." My mom would just nod at him. She wasn't even parenting us at that point anymore. I hadn't been comforted except after Shay died.
 
Maybe instead of impulsively driving to Florida I could impulsively get some work done. I need to clean my toilet. I keep dreaming about my grandpa asking about it.

Write t micro-burst story. It has to be from the perspective of a teenager. All I can pick up on in helplessness. Trying to do the right thing and then getting blamed for it. I don't want to write nonfiction. I can't even shower without fear. Things were supposed to get better after my dad left. I stood up to a psychopath. He got the last laugh. Turns out he was right.
 

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