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- #37
littleoc
VIP Member
I am so frustrated at having to clean this entire house, suddenly. Now that I'm aware of all the stuff I was responsible for as a kid that I shouldn't have been.. I want to rebel, out of nowhere.
I'm still sad and confused at my mom's reactions. How come she never came to protect me? Why am I so afraid of her? Why was she always brought up when someone was trying to make me do something against my will?
I think I can figure out why her being angry terrifies me? Maybe it's because I know how fast that escalates? Maybe it's because it makes me feel like my dad is going to come attack me at any moment?
I don't get why my mom never protected us. Never. Even after my dad was gone -- thanks to me, not her. I'm very thankful that she loves us; I'm very thankful that she chose to try to get rid of Alex instead of put me into foster care.
But when my little brother had his breakdowns, it took him almost dying to get her to actually do something. That haunts me so much. I can still smell blood when I wake up, and see how bright red it was, and see my mom walking way too fast and looking panicked even though she can't actually walk.
But before that? I tried to f*cking warn her. It's not like it wasn't obvious. He was cutting himself, even more than I had been. And while mine was secret, we could see his. He was clearly reaching out for attention. For that reason, my ex told me he should be sent to a boot camp.
My mom just ignored it. She also ignored his violent tendancies even though it was a clear sign of depression. And even know I asked her to do something because I was terrified.
For me? Cutting got me hospitalized. It turned my life around. For my little brother? It got him ignored.
My mom neglected us even after the danger was gone, and it really bothers me because I don't know why.
I called it, too. I did on so many things, and my mom never listened. I was just a stupid teenager. I went to her office upstairs while she was working, which was scary to me. I told her I was worried about my brother and his cutting. I told her that to get the same releases, he was going to have to cut more and deeper, and it was only a matter of time before he accidentally cut too deep and got really hurt.
She dismissed it. She told me I had taught him to cut, so I ended up feeling responsible.
Literally a couple of weeks later, he did it. He also screamed something about wanting to die. My mom didn't go comfort him, and I didn't know how to react. But when he cut himself too deep at 3am, that got her up.
Later, she said something about her epiphanies that something really bad must have happened to him, because SHE had never cut or tried to kill herself.
I don't know why she was telling me that. I had told HER, and also I had a similar history. It made me so angry.
I was supposed to take care of her when my little brother lashed out, too.
She never did anything about his lashing out. Never looked for help, never did anything useful to handle the situation. Just ignored it.
Like she ignored this house, except to yell how she hates it and encourage US to clean it even after trauma. And being told that everything we did was useless. Especially compared to my sister and her husband, who were working us so much that we literally broke.
She never helped us. She just made it our responsibility. I spent my entire teenage life in guilt. Being forced into a fantasy world of my own creation and being unable to escape even at home. Dealing with animals that were dying and my little brother.
My dad pit us against each other often, while my twin brother could only watch helplessly while citing over and over again that we needed to stop because violence was wrong.
And you know what? Even after he was gone, it didn't stop. It got worse, more complicated. I love my little brother and he loves me, but as teenagers we were still pitted against each other. Mostly emotionally. My mom kept it up, never did anything to f*cking change it.
Why did she never do anything?
My former kidnapper and rapist was in our front yard one time. I didn't even think she called the police.
Later, she vomited out that she had, but the police didn't care.
What am I even supposed to think? Was she even supposed to tell me that?
I wonder if she was even doing her best. She was always avoiding everything. I lived no childhood at all because of that. I'm so angry and confused about it.
I'm still sad and confused at my mom's reactions. How come she never came to protect me? Why am I so afraid of her? Why was she always brought up when someone was trying to make me do something against my will?
I think I can figure out why her being angry terrifies me? Maybe it's because I know how fast that escalates? Maybe it's because it makes me feel like my dad is going to come attack me at any moment?
I don't get why my mom never protected us. Never. Even after my dad was gone -- thanks to me, not her. I'm very thankful that she loves us; I'm very thankful that she chose to try to get rid of Alex instead of put me into foster care.
But when my little brother had his breakdowns, it took him almost dying to get her to actually do something. That haunts me so much. I can still smell blood when I wake up, and see how bright red it was, and see my mom walking way too fast and looking panicked even though she can't actually walk.
But before that? I tried to f*cking warn her. It's not like it wasn't obvious. He was cutting himself, even more than I had been. And while mine was secret, we could see his. He was clearly reaching out for attention. For that reason, my ex told me he should be sent to a boot camp.
My mom just ignored it. She also ignored his violent tendancies even though it was a clear sign of depression. And even know I asked her to do something because I was terrified.
For me? Cutting got me hospitalized. It turned my life around. For my little brother? It got him ignored.
My mom neglected us even after the danger was gone, and it really bothers me because I don't know why.
I called it, too. I did on so many things, and my mom never listened. I was just a stupid teenager. I went to her office upstairs while she was working, which was scary to me. I told her I was worried about my brother and his cutting. I told her that to get the same releases, he was going to have to cut more and deeper, and it was only a matter of time before he accidentally cut too deep and got really hurt.
She dismissed it. She told me I had taught him to cut, so I ended up feeling responsible.
Literally a couple of weeks later, he did it. He also screamed something about wanting to die. My mom didn't go comfort him, and I didn't know how to react. But when he cut himself too deep at 3am, that got her up.
Later, she said something about her epiphanies that something really bad must have happened to him, because SHE had never cut or tried to kill herself.
I don't know why she was telling me that. I had told HER, and also I had a similar history. It made me so angry.
I was supposed to take care of her when my little brother lashed out, too.
She never did anything about his lashing out. Never looked for help, never did anything useful to handle the situation. Just ignored it.
Like she ignored this house, except to yell how she hates it and encourage US to clean it even after trauma. And being told that everything we did was useless. Especially compared to my sister and her husband, who were working us so much that we literally broke.
She never helped us. She just made it our responsibility. I spent my entire teenage life in guilt. Being forced into a fantasy world of my own creation and being unable to escape even at home. Dealing with animals that were dying and my little brother.
My dad pit us against each other often, while my twin brother could only watch helplessly while citing over and over again that we needed to stop because violence was wrong.
And you know what? Even after he was gone, it didn't stop. It got worse, more complicated. I love my little brother and he loves me, but as teenagers we were still pitted against each other. Mostly emotionally. My mom kept it up, never did anything to f*cking change it.
Why did she never do anything?
My former kidnapper and rapist was in our front yard one time. I didn't even think she called the police.
Later, she vomited out that she had, but the police didn't care.
What am I even supposed to think? Was she even supposed to tell me that?
I wonder if she was even doing her best. She was always avoiding everything. I lived no childhood at all because of that. I'm so angry and confused about it.