I was abused as a child and NOBODY did a fucking thing. Hell, they all claimed ignorance bc they “didn’t know.” They “didn’t know” only bc they didn’t bother to even talk to me. Nobody even wanted to have anything to do with me back then. And it wasn’t 1 time. Or 2 times. It was over a period of TEN YEARS so no fucking excuse.
I left home and I had nothing to do with them for the last 26 years. Turns out they’re just as shitty if not worse to me now. I told them about the abuse, so they all know now. And they all hate me. 1- there’s a level of guilt they have to contend with bc they did nothing. 2- now it’s turned to hate bc if i turn out “bad” or “angry” due to years of abuse and being mentally fucked up, then it’s on me to be “good” and “happy” bc i’m now an adult.
Like no, it doesn’t work that way. We can’t magically be “fine” the moment we become adults bc we are now in control of our lives. Abused and neglected children grow up to be fucked up. That’s just how it is. Nobody helped us as kids. People are even less likely now to help us now that we’re adults, bc we’re adults now and we “need to take ownership of our lives.”
Everyone rescued my brother but no one rescued ME.
(Other family members, not the above ones)
But he got rescued and after years and years of helping him, he’s now doing fine.
But NO ONE HELPED ME, and is it then not obvious that I’d be fucked up?
People don’t get 2+2.
-If a child is abused or neglected, they are fucked up.
-If a child is abused or neglected but has help, they can turn their lives around and have a shot at a normal good life.
-If a child is abused or neglected and has NO help, they turn out fucked up and angry and bitter. DUH!!!
It’s as obvious as water is wet.
People just EXPECT me to be just fine and dandy bc “I’m now an adult” and “can do whatever I want now.” It just doesn’t work that way. It’s not like I turn 18 or 21 and magically I’m no longer fucked up bc I can now make my own decisions and do whatever I want. And if my life is shit, then it’s obviously MY fault. UGH.
Like what don’t people get? My brother got help so now he’s doing fine. NO ONE EVER HELPED ME so OBVIOUSLY I’m fucked up.
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I’ve wondered about this one, quite a bit. The common narrative would suggest that anyone as screwed up as me probably has family issues, but it’s more complicated than that.
The first ten years of my life I hardly knew my dad, because he was traveling for work. Then when I did start seeing him, it’s because he’d been laid off. He was laid off at least twice because the owners of the company drove it into the ground. They got golden parachutes, my dad didn’t.
So on that score, creating my current view that you can never trust an employer dad is guilty, but it’s a lesson I think is worth learning. I don’t think that is abuse.
The big thing that I hold against my parents is that at age seven they moved me from a major metropolitan area to a terminally bland midwestern “city.” People raised in that city that I knew did better than I did or any of my classmates.
Then it comes down to the foundation of the issue; I had health problems, and those problems were mishandled. Some of that has to go to the doctors, therapists and various specialists that my parent’s insurance paid to send me to one after another, none of them having satisfying answers….
Mostly though, it was my parents being in denial about me being chronicly ill. Neglect might apply too, because while they listened to every specialist with a degree on the wall, I really wish they would have tried to listen to me. I really wish they would have considered that my treatment by the school system was creating in me a chronic anxiety and distrust of authority.
I believe they did the best they could with the information available. That doesn’t perfectly absolve them, it just casts doubt on their guilt.
I was talking to my wife about it earlier today and I said out loud something I never admitted to myself; if my maternal grandparents hadn’t of been as well off as they were, they would have qualified as mentally ill. Same goes for my mother and her siblings, the only reason they aren’t considered mentally ill is because their generation avoids being diagnosed
which brings me back to an accountability problem I also have with myself; how much can I forgive based on health problems?