I feel like writing this is asking for pity or something, but I just want to express this feeling I have.

I had a family who took my childhood from me and had me in service to their needs instead. I wasn’t allowed to be innocent - I had to look after my siblings and be a therapist for my parents.

I wasn’t allowed to say no or to feel. I was ignored and overlooked because I met their needs and somehow found the energy to meet mine enough to go to college. I was threatened with homelessness if I didn’t go to college and I was promised my education would be paid for. Instead, I got into a school and had to take out loans.

I took care of myself as an adult, but my conditioning was such that I jumped to my family’s rescue whenever their lives imploded. Family was supposed to look out for each other, and I had the assumption that they would do the same for me in a similar situation.

I never let myself get into that situation. I walked to Coin Star with my change jar to pay for gas money, refusing to need them. I doubted they would come to my rescue, but I didn’t want to spend my one rescue on something I could take care of myself.

I struggled independently and found the resources to help my family every time for over a decade of my adult life. I worked and saved and carved out a life for myself.

And then the pandemic started. I got another degree and I was on top of the world for two days before a family emergency called me back to reality. I put my career on hold and suffered a terrible financial loss that same year. But I know my (relative) would be dead right now if it weren’t for me.

But then when I asked for time to recover from my own hardships, I was met with the same shaming they always gave me. They asked why I couldn’t be financially established not two weeks after getting out of the hospital. Like I wasn’t the one taking them to physical therapy. Making office calls. Acting as an unpaid caseworker, nurse, driver, cook, and housekeeper.

I thought this time would be different - I did so much that I thought it was incontrovertible how much I contributed. That I would be allowed the space to breathe for a little bit without the fault-finding coming back in full.

I thought they would see me for the work I did for them. I thought they would treat me with love and acceptance. I thought I would finally be seen.

I’m struggling now to get back to a semblance of where I once was. I’m not living up to my potential. I know that’s bullshit phrasing and oversimplifying my situation. But it’s hard. I finally went no contact, but it feels like something broke in me.

I tried so hard to be treated with decency by the people who were supposed to love me and I failed. I know they failed me, but I see the effort and energy I put into caring about others at cost to myself and I just can’t justify wanting to do anything anymore.

I don’t want to try. I can just keep my mask on and work as the world passes me by. I don’t see trying as getting me anything I wanted or needed because I can’t remember a time where it has.

I know this isn’t true, but the feeling is so hard to shake.

I’m getting therapy and I’m finally seeing the extent of the damage done to me before I was old enough to understand, but it’s so much. It’s just digging and digging and digging until I’m so tired that I forget why I’m even doing it in the first place.

I’m trying so hard to keep going and I only do so because I don’t want to make good people sad or bad people happy.

I still try even though the deepest part of me feels like it’s pointless. I know it’s not pointless, but I just feel pain every time I start to think things could get better.

I just needed to get this out there because I don’t have anywhere else to put this, but if this resonates with anyone, how did you get out of this mindset?

  • Amerikan Pharaoh@lemmygrad.ml
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    7 months ago

    Your situation sounds familiar to mine. Never got to be a child, always was expected to fill the role of emotional deadbeats that only spent the time they were around using me as as something to beat, to twist, and to contort. Cutting them off, and keeping them that way-- because like mine, these sound like the kinds of ticks and leeches that will never pay back what they’ve drawn from you, will never even be cognizant of it-- is difficult. I won’t bullshit. I still see their faces in dreams, even despite all the acrimony that’s been traded over the years. I still have days where I’ll wake up absolutely fuckin useless for mourning. I still have days where I almost punch their numbers into the phone.

    But every day that you don’t is another day that you get to keep for yourself, to actually make into something that isn’t forged of necessity or obligation. Days become months, months become years, and things eventually start to abstract. And in the abstraction, you can build your own family. Do things right, or at least, more equitably than they were done for you.

    • Magician [he/him, they/them]@hexbear.netOP
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      7 months ago

      I’m glad I’m at the point where I’m free of them, it just feels like such an endeavor to get started when the world is on fire. I know I will get to where I want to be, it just hurts, you know? Like things didn’t have to be this way.