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When terrible, abusive parents come crawling back, what do their grown children owe them? By Emily Yoffe

I’ve been avoiding this page after posting the last link. In fact I’m thinking of deleting it.

This article though really caught my attention, enough for me to read the whole thing even though I have limited time online. My nose whistling, my head aching, I read and posted it else where so that my siblings could view it. Will it come back to haunt me? Will they get angry and claim that I should delete it because it’s untrue?

I am not sure if it’s entirely untrue. I mean thanks to my parents I’d been molested more than once by adults who were neighbors and caregivers. Their neglect has altered the course of my life and encouraged my horrid self esteem. I’ve been through the blame game, victim claiming and know that that is just a step that someone who has never been protected and then also bullied into not being believed has to go through in order to realize that they themselves have to take command of their own protection in a healthy way. The balance between isolating oneself in a wall of anger, massive boundaries of protection because there was no teaching of realistic parameters has to be overcome. It takes a great amount of effort and only after there is help with understanding what healthy divisions are between self and outsiders. That is a step I have never taken. After years of childhood ego shattering neglect and then more years of carefully navigating a system that is set up to denigrate poor people and their family systems I have not encountered any social service system that helps builds a person who needs that definition in their life. This includes non-profit groups as well as government organizations. 

I have a hard time seeing my parents as ogres when I step back and look at them without my childhood bias coloring my vision. As parents though, they disgust me. Both are educated and in society’s eyes are forgivable. Like mental illness, intelligence has nothing to do with abuse and neglect. There is no forgiveness. I have a hard time trying to communicate with them about the past although I desperately want to unburden myself. I long to tell my Mother that her “funny” story about my former babysitter (a 40 year old white trash horror who whipped my sister with a leather belt,) biting me as a discipline measure was not only abusive, unsophisticated and disturbing but also left me unable to protect myself when for the rest of my childhood I was bullied interminably and with nightmares of being gagged. 

I never should have come back here. I am dysfunctional and becoming unhinged. My paranoia has become so pronounced that I am isolating myself in the house, not only from my friends but from everyone who lives here. I have no energy to do what I need to do: get out of here. 

My Mother told me two days ago while walking around Little Comfort, “Your brother is going to take care of me in his home when it comes my time.” I was saddened, then angry. Why didn’t she want me? She thinks I’ll hurt her! She thinks I am stupid and ineffective. She sees me as a bad person. Then that side of me, the one I can’t decide if it’s sick or if it’s practical: “Good you f^ck!ng b!tch. You are probably right because deep inside me I know you never gave a sh!t about me. I was a mistake. And you wouldn’t get an abortion. Thanks for ruining my life. I hate you.” These are not assumptions. She’s told me that we all were “whoops!” children. Ha ha.

And that is why I only have 2 kids now. I would have had 6. I knew I couldn’t handle 6. “Why didn’t you get birth control?” you ask. Because until 3 years ago I couldn’t take pills regularly. I was too unbalanced. Whether or not you judge me is a reflection of yourself and not me. Until I took a good look at myself I couldn’t work out what was so wrong in my life that it kept spinning like a maelstrom. There are times my life still feels like a black vortex of pain but they don’t last as long they used to. It doesn’t feel like I’m going to die and land in a purgatory where judgment is constant and torment is waiting in the wings. 

By the way, read this book if you are inclined to think about, discuss or believe in Hell: http://www.amazon.com/The-History-Hell-Alice-Turner/dp/0156001373

I find that the things many people believe in that are totally fabricated are scarier than the truth. Having a Mother who is a scientist but also believes in God yet had little empathy for a suffering child and calling that severely depressed child lazy and considering her stupid gives me pause to think that if there is a God this world is actually a petri dish with mold cultures that thinks it is a moral analysis on living beings. 

I watched Naked Lunch the other day at a friend’s house. 

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