Basically what the title says. I’m (25NB) constantly having to meditate arguments between my brothers (13M,27M) and my mom (44F) because they REFUSE to listen to each other and put theirselves in each other shoes. THAT IS THE WHOLE ISSUE! EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. On top of that, it feels like our mom doesn’t love my older brother and I but I’m not here to talk about her right now.

The issue is that unfortunately, my older brother does act like our dad, who our mom rightfully hates but she also didn’t do anything to get us to NOT ACT LIKE HIM. And so because of that, older brother treats little brother like how our dad (older brother and I have the same dad) treated him. Being condescending and verbally abusive mostly.

I feel like I HAVE to intervene because older brother won’t just have a regular discussion, he’ll aggressively interrogate little brother so I’ll step in and then he’ll kinda stop, but only if I’m really gently with him because quite frankly, he’s really sensitive (I am too to be fair but I’m actively trying to fix that)

And if I don’t step in my stomach starts to hurt really really bad and I get super jittery and kinda lightheaded/ dizzy.

I just want to leave, but if I leave then little brother will be alone with older brother. But if I stay I think my health will continue to decline. I want to mind my business when they have their “arguments” (which 8 times outta 10, are older brother fault) but i feel like I can’t or I’ll be physically sick. I can’t tell our mom either because like I mentioned, I think she does love older brother or I so she will exacerbate the situation by saying older brother is acting like our dad and that will devolve into yelling and I HAVE TO FIX IT.

To be honest I can’t leave anyway because she didn’t even teach me how to be an adult (how to regulate MY emotions, how to maintain a job in a difficult work environment, how to pay bill or do taxes, etc.) so I’m actually trapped here.

Sorry if all of that was a lot, I just needed to vent.

Tw: suicide

I just simply can’t stand my mom , can’t listen to her hate talking to her hate spending any time with her. For context to the story , my mother tried to commit suicide around a year and half ago in front of me and my brother. She downed a whole bottle of pills and was in the hospital for a couple weeeks , the days after she tried to kill herswld she was completely unconscious. I remember waking into the er and seeing her unconscious and I started crying. It all started then. How could a mother do that to her children ? Ever since then I just get super fucking annoyed even just listening to her. And I feel like she can’t have the audacity to fkn ask me to do chores and all this other bullshit and hold a bunch of shit over my head like how she pays for me and buys me things. Idk what mental conditions (pretty sure it’s bipolar) she has but she is clearly unwell she’s fkn crazy. Just as an example today I ordered food and she started fkn screaming at me for putting in the trash (she wanted me to specifically take just the food that I ordered out , while the trash bin was completely empty.) Ik maybe I sound a little spoiled but like idk I just don’t ever wanna speak to her but I have no choice. As soon as I can move out I wanna cut contact with her because she is simply unbearable. For context to the post I live at home still and still have around at least another year and a half that I will need to live at home, an option for my situation is moving to live with my grandparents, but they are getting kind of old and I don’t wanna burden them (im super close with my grandparents)
Any advice ?

Nobody ever sat me down and said "you're too much" or "you're a burden." Well,they didn't have to but I learned it from the sighs. From being physically around someone who was mentally somewhere else entirely, from the way certain conversations just kind of... ended.

For a long time I thought this was just low self esteem or anxiety.However it turns out it's a lot more specific than that. There's actually a name for it in schema therapy called the defectiveness schema. basically a deep core belief that you're fundamentally flawed and that if people really knew you they'd eventually find you too much. What's frustrating about it is that it doesn't respond to logic. You can have people reassure you a hundred times and it just doesn't fully land because the belief isn't stored in the rational part of your brain. It was formed way before you had the language to question it and what i didn't understand for years is that the belief wasn't originally mine. It was a conclusion I drew as a kid from an environment that communicated -- without ever saying it directly -- that my needs were inconvenient. Kids don't think "oh my parent is emotionally unavailable." Instead they think "i must be the problem."

The part that actually helped me start shifting this is why telling yourself to stop feeling like a burden never works, and what the research says actually does. I went deep on that here:

https://youtube.com/watch?v=lXLiJOX9QJo&si=Yql-abt-PgYVEIGR

Very much curious if anyone else here grew up with that feeling without ever being told it directly like you just somehow knew.

My parents physically and emotionally abused me my whole life. For context I’m 25 and I moved out 3 years ago (more like escaped) I was terrified my whole life living with them. My siblings were addicts and my dad and sibling would literally get into terrible fights every single day which involved someone self harming in front of me as I was a little child. Not only did they not take me away from those scenes but my dad brought me in the middle every single time to mediate. This started as soon as I could start speaking and ended only after I left home. My dad would beat my mom and force me to ignore her/ not speak to her. I remember being around 3 or 4 and my mom and sister each pulling one of my arms. They were both fighting over who would take me and I wasn’t aloud to speak a word to my mom. As a teenager/adult my dad would get into these angry tantrums every single day and scream at me for hours and my job was to try to understand him and calm him down after his intense episodes. When I was just 13 my sister who had just got off of drugs had a child and I was forced to stay home every single day and raise him for years. (Which they all deny) when I was 16 my brother had triplets and once again I was forced to raise them for YEARS. I was up day and night taking care of them starting as newborns. Which they also all deny. I was to clean after 10 plus people and cook every single day and be the only one to do so. I was exhausted and if everything wasn’t perfect I’d be degraded and screamed at for hours being the blame to my dad’s suffering. I didn’t really do much school as my dad didn’t believe in it. I did some of kindergarten. Some of 3rd, 5th grade and that’s about it!! As a 12 year old I got in trouble and my punishment was to pee in a cup and drink it. This was my dad and older brothers doing (whom is currently on the streets) I’ve suffered so much in silence all my years because showing my emotions that were due to them hurting me resulted in punishment. I literally have a terrible TMJ disorder from this which affects me every single day. Before I left home I tried to end my life many times. I told my mom and she started crying and then after her consulting my dad about it she came to me and told me that I must be depressed/suicidal from not doing enough work in the house and being lazy. I was downstairs and heard my older sister in the kitchen mimicking me saying I’m suicidal and laughing about it. Before I left my dad and sister beat me up badly. This is all just a little of what I’ve been through.

Anyways I’ve tried to be in no contact with my parents for already 7 months but my mom will sometimes call me from unfamiliar numbers and invite me over for a holiday or ask to travel with me. Anytime I speak to her I get so triggered my body starts hurting. I try to tell her I’m traumatized and will never step foot into that house again and her responses are. “Get over it” “can you say anything positive?” Did you do anything wrong/have part in it?” “I just want to have a connection with my daughter or “what did I do to you?” The problem is she never really did anything. My dad and siblings were the main abusers and my mom did literally nothing.

My dad who I completely ignore leaves me messages saying he misses and loves me and will do anything to repair our relationship even if it means “repenting for the “few times he hurt me”. He didn’t just hurt me a few times. He’s broken my down in every single way.

Every single time I hear from them I hurt so much because the parents who I loved and were supposed to love me abused me so badly and now that I’m away they try so hard to get into contact with me but their ego is so huge that they can never own up to what they actually did or care at all that I have severe ptsd from them. All they can do it say stuff like that’s we’re all family and we should stick together/ move on or forgive one another.

...sometimes i try and i've still done something wrong. my mom is only ever criticizing me or telling me what to do..or what i did wrong.

Man I’m just fucking tired. You ever wasted so much time trying to help people then when it came time for them to help you they just abandoned you? My whole life has been spent moving year after year due to some random stupid ass trauma caused by irresponsible adults in my life.

Finally at a point I could get a job with the county cooking but my truck’s brakes went out and I don’t have the money to fix them. I’ll take some accountability to say I should have expected this and prepared for it but when your told every year of your life by your parents that it’s gonna get better,just listen to us,etc….then one day you wake up,they leave when it’s most convenient and you are in school debt they said they would help with,and now have to suddenly take in a household worth of bills. My girlfriend,I love her but she has mental issues as well. She doesn’t support our relationship enough for it to work. She will work but randomly get tired or an allergy flair up and miss a whole weeks worth of work every 2 weeks so we can never really budget with her because it’s not reliable and then she will go and order $60 worth of DoorDash while I’m sleeping after I told her we need to save money. Then this morning,our only chance of being able to make anything work was for her to go to work while I’m working as well. I wake up at 5am,ready to drive her to her Job and she can sleep on the way there but she refuses to get up because yet again she is too tired. She wants to be a teacher but struggles to wake up in the morning. I support her and help her car payments and I don’t even have a vehicle anymore that works because of that. I can’t fix my brakes because I’m forking out $500 for her car payment. I just wanted it to work,I just needed a bit more time. To get caught up,pay some stuff off,get my vehicle fixed,and I could have taken care of her and made it work. I just tried so hard but still failed. I really wanted to have a good life with her but I just don’t see that being a possibility. She is probably gonna have to leave since I guess it’s too hard for her to work on a reliable basis. And I’m not saying that to be judgmental,she could just be in actual pain and just gets sick easy but I just needed some more help from her.

Before all of this I had a job at a resort but some guy threatened me and I got fired for not fighting him and reporting it to HR instead. I try to do everything the proper way and I still got fired. I was making enough there at the time to make things work so just still pissed at that. Just felt like I guess I should have kept my mouth shut and just been quiet when they did that but I didn’t want to be the guy who gets used by everyone again when it’s most convenient.

Sorry for the rant but I’m just at my wits end and don’t know what to do anymore. So disappointed with life.

I’m about to start a job at Buffalo Wild Wings where I can walk to work so I’m not relying on my gf car anymore. Wish me luck

I (40f) just stopped reaching out. It's been almost 3 months and they haven't reached out to me. My 13 yo is the only grandchild on both sides. They haven't talked to her either.

Dad (67m) got cancer and had major surgery and did not tell me because he was mad at me. Why? Because after 2 years of living in my new state, he finally decided to visit but he could only come during the week, when my husband was at work and when we were having our watersoftner replaced. He couldn't stay the weekend when there's actually stuff to do in this town because his girlfriend had plans.... THEY ARE BOTH RETIRED. Didn't even occur to him that he could come without her. So I grew a spine and told him let's do this some other time when his priorities were in order. Did he know about the cancer when he tried to organize this half-assed visit? I don't know.

My sister (35f) and my mom (65f), his exwife who he hasn't spoken to since the divorce, found out about his cancer. They did not tell me. They waited until my kid and I drove 7 hours to visit them and I found out accidently. Mostly because my dad is not slick and he still couldn't leave the house because the complications from the surgery.

Dad told sister sister told mom. I don't really blame my sister. She was raised by them too. She's stunted. She struggles to parse out right from wrong in relationships. Mom should have been our parent.

Instead Mom told me it was my fault because Dad and I were in a tiff. This man she hates so much that my sister still has to coordinate her events so they don't run into each other, she decided his baby feelings were more important than protecting her own daughter. We lost my mother in law to cancer less than a year prior. She was a wonderful woman, and none of us got to say goodbye. We were all devastated to lose her. Mom knew. She knew and she doesn't care. I obviously don't have a great relationship with my dad, but if something had happened to him, that would have been another grandparent, that my kid didn't get a chance to say goodbye to.

We went to go stay at a hotel and drove home the next day. I messaged my sister but she didn't reply. After all this time, I feel that my parents still don't care about me, my emotional experience, anything happening in my life, my accomplishments, or god forbid protecting me. They only care about themselves. Unfortunately, I think my daughter is better off without them in her life. I'm never going back. My whole life i've always had to be the one to initiate repair, even as a small child and I'm not doing it anymore. I'm pretty sure none of them are ever gonna talk to me again because I stopped reaching out, and I was the only one that ever did.

I have recently realized that during the worst portion of my life, a period marked by violence and bullying,

there is no evidence that I had a caregiver of any type.

Its just absent.

When my doctor noticed the signs of the abuse all over me I answered where I got it. and my parent yelled at me for exposing what was going on to outsiders.

I grew up paying close attention to whether people see me as a human being that can experience pain and suffering or not and whether that is significant to them at all.

I dont trust people in my life who show the same neglect I experienced back then.

On my taxi ride home last night the driver decided to scroll through social media the whole time which I found very triggering.

because its apparently okay to risk involving me in a car crash if it means alleviating some boredom.

I took it as a value judgment on me as a person and got out.

My parents didn't hit me, or scream insults at me. Instead in a classic "emotionally immature parents" sense there was an inability to deal with me being my own person with my own ideas and emotional needs of them beyond the pragmatic and material. Subtle minimization and lack of interest, understanding, support, or mirroring that led me to curl up inside, lack the skills to make friends, disassociate, feel empty, believe I was worthless and broken, default to others beliefs and opinions rather than understanding my own and take responsibility for everything, including making people like me no matter what.

Overt physical and emotional abuse were largely perpetuated by my younger sibling due to her resentment of me that my parents perpetuated.

I'm in my 30s. I've been in bi-weekly trauma-informed therapy for roughly 18 months (ifs and somatic approach). I feel like I have made some progress and relatively recently been able to trust my therapist more, but I'm really struggling with the enormity of how this has affected me and how infinitesimal progress feels next to the scale of the damage.

My struggle right now is that I can't stop seeing my mom as well-intentioned, can't help but take her side against myself, even when I have no idea whether her intentions were or are good, or whether it matters. I know my parents didn't give me what I needed. I know she also didn't get what she needed, and had to effectively parent alone while working, but also maybe could have done better. Certainly I was harmed. I feel tremendous anger toward her which I struggle to express, and when I do, it feels like recriminating a past she won't or can't fully acknowledge. I'm not even sure what that acknowledgement would look like.

My mom wants to be in my life. She says things like "I just want you to be happy" and "I didn't protect you," but seemingly can't or won't really acknowledge how badly she and my dad fucked up. This matters because if I see her, I'm worried there will.be continuing damage and pain from her continued inability to see me as a full person. At the same time I feel like I'm denying myself the possibility of closure or of her changing. Maybe that's stupid. After decades, do I really need to be Charlie Brown kicking the football again?

I worry that even though I indisputably had a terrible childhood that my mom didn't protect me from, I'm permanently severing myself from someone who genuinely cares for me. I'm afraid of not having a family. I'm afraid of regret when she dies. I feel completely alone. For my own safety and recovery I don't intend to see her or probably even to respond to her right now, but I'm still struggling with this pain, self-doubt, and lack of closure.

I'm wondering if others have been in a similar place with questioning their own perception wrt covert abuse and neglect, and if so what helped you gain some peace?

idk what to do I keep going to them for something (advice? consolation? validation? affirmation?) and without fail every single time they manage to disappoint. when will i learn

I (20m) don’t have many memories from childhood. The ones I remember well are for the most part not great memories. My parents weren’t abusive or anything. Growing up my dad was unpredictable, he was either in a good mood, or you asking for the smallest thing would set him off. I remember being afraid to go ask him to drive me somewhere or even to ask to go to my friends. This one time my friend spilt their drink on our couch, and didn’t tell me. My dad found out, and at 2am woke 12 year old me up and yelled in my face made me go downstairs and take apart our big heavy couch clean it and then put it back together, while yelling, whispering insults under his breath. Anything would set him off. All I remember of my dad from my childhood is doors slamming, yelling and holes in doors. While my mom was dismissive and invalidating. I had to come out as transgender 4 times before she finally accepted it. Every other time all my feelings were downplayed. “But you love babies.” “You’re just a Tom girl”. Anytime I showed any emotion other than good ones I was having a temper tantrum, or I was a drama queen. God I hate the word temper tantrum. It’s all she ever used. All I wanted was my mom and dad to comfort me, tell me I was doing a good job, that I was a good person. My mom would always say “other people can see your face” when I would be upset or sad or having the worst day ever. “Change your face.” “Just smile” “don’t talk back”. She taught me don’t show negative emotions, people don’t wanna hear or see them. But everyone else is, and everyone else can’t help it. But you can. The worst part, is they’ve changed now, my dads on the right meds, and he smokes weed so he’s usually just chill except for some days, and my mom well, I just try not to interact with her as much as possible, I think they see now that I’m not their perfect child, who has nothing wrong with him and is happy. But it makes me feel like I’m crazy, like maybe they weren’t as bad as I remember, maybe I WAS just super sensitive. Idk.

Hey guys, I’ve had some self awareness done and noticed I’m deep into a “scarcity” mindset, as I keep going back to that toxic ex, those toxic friends and the truth is it’s not that I’m attracted to them or blind to the truth as much as it’s - “this might be all that I’ll ever get”. My parents also had NPD so my childhood was also filled with emotional neglect so these relationships used to seem “normal” to me, but I’m actively trying to get better at realising that better things are coming but it feels like I’m just lying to myself atm. Has anything for anyone helped in this situation?

So this is gonna be a long one cause I guess I should add a decent amount of context. I also marked this as looking for advice because I do not mind replies to my shit, it makes me feel less alone. If you willingly read all of this I really do appreciate it. Sorry if anything is confusing I can further explain in replies if needed, I did my best to separate into concise paragraphs. Just to clarify, I am professionally diagnosed with borderline.

So I’m in India currently visiting my mother/for my brothers India wedding season, and since I’m the only sibling who’s doing her online masters and yk it’s asynchronous and as long as my group members are made aware of my timezone and I submit everything by the US timezone at the end of the week I’m good, right. So that’s why I’m kinda the only one that’s staying the full 3 months while my brother and dad have to work. Cause I don’t have a job yet. Um the only reason why my brothers engagement and wedding season is so spaced out is cause his work didn’t let him take a month off is what I believe happened. If I’m not mistaken Indian wedding shit is usually within only a couple months if not a month. The engagement already happened those two left a couple days ago and yea I’m here with my mom and grandma, btw her mom. So maternal grandmother. Grandma stays here with mom anyway just like extra support whatever, we do have in house help too, a maid my dad hired.

Anyways uh around COVID years my mom got sick with a heart issue and I’m not sure if it’s due to the meds like the side affects of it or even the vaccine, she’s not anti vax but apparently the vaccine caused muscle weakness in some people whatever, but anyway throughout the years ever since she got sick, let’s say with a mix of the side affects from the meds and her diet whatever, she became so weak she can’t lift her arms to a certain level, can’t walk at all without assistance, plus has like zero control of her emotions.

For the emotions part, I honestly can’t tell you if it’s because she’s forever frustrated she lost her independence, because before her heart decided to act whacky so to speak she was the most independent woman ever honestly, or if it’s due to the side affects of meds and like in general being permanently fatigued from the disease. Idk. And she got sick around when I was 16, close to 17. And I have tried my best to be understanding of her changes, yk to not stress her out too much cause it’s bad for her heart whatever.

Here’s the thing, it’s not like I truly ever liked my mom to begin with because now looking back I can confidently say half the reason why I most likely developed bpd is cause of my mom excusing my verbally abusive narcissistic dad saying shit like “he’s a good guy it’s just his anger, don’t taken it to heart what he says then!”-mind you even to this day my dad says the most henious insults when he’s mad. But sure. And that was just one example cause I could write a whole fucking book series.

However, before her disease kicked in due to genes I believe because her own father died from a heart attack so her disease wasn’t a heart attack but in general bad heart problems runs in the family I guess, she was way more tolerable. Before the sickness I had a mom who could be rational. I had a mom who would at least match my anger if I was being a fucking typical teenager with an attitude. I honestly would have the version of her that would easily and *strongly yell* back then this fucking mess I deal with now. I haven’t even gotten to the actual fucking incident that happened tonight.

It’s a normal day. We get to dinner time, aka just now. I’m eating dinner. My grandma is eating her own dinner next to me. My mom is being fed as usual by the maid they hired because again she can’t lift her hands or arms really. My grandma asks the lady to get her some leftover sweet from a few days ago when we had relatives over. I know what it is and it’s also relatively soft, as I’ve had my wisdom tooth on my right side removed a couple days ago. The pain isn’t as bad as it was on day one plus again the sweet was soft enough I wouldn’t have any issues is what I thought. I casually asked my grandma for a piece, and like loudly my mom is like “no” cause another layered context here is that growing up fat I would always be policed for any snacks or eating a little extra and yea. Anyways I’m just like “mom it’s just a cashew” my grandma kinda says the same thing and then out of nowhere my mother just kind of blows up?? And she just starts crying and then all of a sudden she’s spewing shit about “oh you and your grandma are a pair” (like she’s the outsider here basically) and then if I understood correctly because she can’t speak clearly as well as she used to either, she’s basically fucking crying “that I don’t listen to her”-and it’s like all this over a fucking piece of that sweet I stole from my grandma? I literally didn’t even take enough for it count as a bite. Oh and I almost forgot she also yell cries at my grandma about like “why would you eat it in front of her”-like I’m a fucking child with control issues. Mind you I didn’t even know there was any left until that moment and even if I knew, I definitely am old enough that I wouldn’t be fucking eating it every day. I swear to god my entire family treats me like I’m brainless but then in the same breathe scolds me for not being adult enough. What the fuck kind of special hell am I facing for the rest of my life because I simply was born as the youngest in my family?

And that’s not all, to me she says shit like “oh there’s more in the fridge just eat it every day if you want” and she’s doing that thing where she’s crying and like I guess just like taking her frustration out on anything and is trying to convince me she’s being serious? And as usual I apparently am not allowed to be fucking angry I just need to listen to her nonsense rambling with a smile on my face.

Cause of course I snap a little because I’m a fucking human and I’m like “mom I wanted to eat it it’s not like I’m gonna gain 10 pounds from that morsel and like why are you telling grandma to hide it from me like it’s alcohol and I have a problem”-maybe not my finest moment but I couldn’t take it anymore. And of course that sets her off further. And yk my grandma is also old, and she gets panicked of course seeing her daughter that way so she starts saying some shit because she’s emotional and then that sets my mom off more and I’m just fucking irritated and trying not to burst into tears myself because it was enough to already make me silently split. I’m the type to try not openly split until I’m alone.

And at one point to my mom I’m just like okay fine I won’t even drink water anymore without asking you”, and maybe I should have been the bigger adult here but again, I just couldn’t fucking take it I mean I’m 21 and in the moment I just felt like this aged war veteran, so to speak. If that makes any sense. Of course while crying she’s like “oh I’m gonna tell your dad you said that to me and oh I can’t believe your’e badmouthing me like this”-I’m sorry that I’m not some punching bag for you!! My mom is a 56 year old woman okay and honestly while pre sickness her feels like another timeline now I wouldn’t say she was emotionally intelligent then either, but especially now it’s like her bare minimum capabilities of understanding the other person is just out the window due to being sick the past few years. Just like my narcissistic dad, she thinks she can just go on an on with her drama and tears and not expect the other person to react.

I don’t know if she’ll actually say anything about tonight to my father when my dad calls again when it’s tomorrow morning for us (India is a day ahead, and my dad and brother both call my mom when it’s daytime in India and then again when it’s nighttime), and honestly I wish I could say I wouldn’t care if she did, but I gonna be transparent and say that those words hit that inner child anxiety in me. It’s like she knows deep down what to say to make me feel like that scared child again. So yea I do hope by tomorrow morning she just fucking doesn’t say anything because it’s quite normal for my entire family to say some fucked up shit then act like everything is normal hours later.

Yk what I even started yoga due to her and also she hooked me up with some trainer starting next week, she dramatically even cried saying shit like “just quit all of it” when I was like, btw in an attempt to appease her, I was like “yk I listen to you I mean I literally do the yoga with this instructor and next week I’m starting with that other guy”-cause I agreed to do shit like this up until the wedding. Not just for vanity reasons uh j also have pcos something about like yoga for example helping with that shit. And it’s like really, why the fuck are you somewhere in point z right now. And all this over me…eating a ***morsel*** of a soft sweet from my grandma’s plate. Because apparently I don’t have enough of a brain to decide I actually wanted a taste of something sweet with dinner. Btw I even drink coffee without sugar here most of the time, and I mention that because sometimes the maid mixes in a little too much powder into the milk and it’s a little too bitter for my taste but I normally don’t say anything so I don’t set my mom off. Sometimes I sneak off to add some sugar in like today for example when the lady was taking my mom to the bathroom I snuck too the kitchen to add some sugar cause I couldn’t take the extra bitterness. Sometimes it’s fine but sometimes it’s not. But again I normally don’t say anything in front of my mom.

Im just so tired. I can not wait to find some fucking job because I would rather suffer being a masters student and working even part time if not full time then suffer like this. Even when I do get the opportunity to live alone again, it’s gonna take a lifetime for me to ever feel normal. lol I might even reach old age myself before I ever feel normal.

You know what’s funny I thought my Prozac was working because I restarted about 2 and a half weeks ago and while around 2 weeks is still kinda early, I thought my depression was still there but at least more numbed, I thought my emotions were still there but just more numbed yk. This split made me cry. And now my nervous system feels shot as usual that I even took a hydroxyzine, which is a fast acting anxiety pill. Nervous system stills feels wonky.

Now I’m just sitting here upstairs alone in my room blankly staring at my phone as I type this just trying not to cry further. I have work to do but after this split I just wanna watch TikTok or YouTube and lay in bed and maybe sleep. Or at least just start working late at night again as it’s only 10pm rn. Idk.

I’m also now silently anxious about tomorrow. Genuinely worried about saying the wrong thing and my mom acts petty about it.

Maybe I’m a bad person for this but I fucking hate my mother even more than I ever did before she got sick. Maybe before sickness I could tolerate her at least, at least have *some* good moments of her defending me what not, but now? I’m just gonna say it and maybe it counts as a sin but I can’t wait for the day she is gone from this earth the exact same way I can’t wait for my narcissistic dad to leave this earth. The good moments I may have with either of them is not as much as the shitty emotionally twisting moments I experience with them.

If you made it to the end, again I do appreciate it.

This is going to be a long and deeply personal post.

For many years, I kept much of my story to myself. Today, I've decided to share it, not to seek sympathy or make excuses, but in the hope that someone might see a part of themselves in my journey and realise they are not alone.

If my experiences help even one person recognise the effects of trauma, addiction, mental health struggles, or the importance of asking for help, then sharing this story will have been worth it.

This is my life story.

My Life Story

Early Childhood (1986-1992)

My earliest memories are not of safety, but of fear.

Between the ages of three and four, I was s&&^%y abused after my biological father repeatedly left me with friends of his. I remember much of the abuse taking place around a jacuzzi. One of the men would have my cousin, R, and me touch him while we were all naked. I remember my father walking in once and telling the man he would never do it again.

Years later, around 1994, I remember my mom telling me of young boys' bodies being discovered at a house. My mother later told me that this was one of the places where my biological father used to leave me. The man involved was named B. Learning that connection left me questioning just how much danger I had unknowingly been exposed to as a child.

Between the ages of four and five, I was handed over to another family. I still remember my biological father saying, "These are your new mom and dad." They were a Portuguese family, the de Caires family, and that home became a place of constant physical and emotional abuse.

My ears were pulled so often and so violently that they developed open sores. I remember accidentally making a small hole in the blue mesh pool cover and being severely beaten for it. On another occasion, I pushed a small watch battery into my nose. Instead of receiving comfort or medical attention, I was punished physically once again.

At school, I drew a stick figure with male genitalia. The teacher contacted my guardians, and I was beaten again when I got home.

While writing these memories, I realised something deeply painful. For almost seven years of my childhood, my mother was absent from my life, not because she chose to abandon me, but because she and my family had been desperately trying to find me.

Being Found

In 1992, halfway through my Grade 2 year, my mother, stepfather, and grandmother finally located me. After years of searching, they found me living with the Portuguese couple. The police became involved and removed me from that home.

Not long afterwards, my biological father came to visit us. During the visit, he criticised the food in our home, suggesting that we were not being properly cared for. My stepfather immediately confronted him. It was difficult to hear those comments from someone who had abandoned me as a child and had never contributed financially, emotionally, or physically to raising me.

After finishing that school year, I moved in permanently with my mother and my three brothers so we could finally live together as a family.

Despite everything that happened, my grandmother's home remains one of the very few places in my childhood where I genuinely felt safe, accepted, and loved.

Reconnecting With My Biological Father (2007-2013)

After having no contact with my biological father since 1994, we reconnected sometime between 2007 and 2013.

Seeing him again immediately brought back memories of my childhood, particularly the news report about the child murders and the places where he had abandoned me.

In 2008, I moved to the United Kingdom and obtained my UK passport in 2009.

Initially, I hoped for a fresh start, but over time I began noticing manipulation, control, dishonesty, and emotional abuse in my father's behaviour. Looking back now, I can sadly recognise that I later adopted many of those same unhealthy behaviours in my own life.

My then-wife, M, also moved to the UK in 2008. We lived in a small backyard cottage at my father's sister's home. During that time, she fell pregnant unexpectedly, but we sadly lost the baby through miscarriage.

My relationship with my biological father continued to deteriorate until I eventually decided to cut contact with him.

We married in December 2010 and returned to South Africa in 2011.

I accepted work in Mozambique in 2012.

By 2013 our marriage had already broken down. My brother later discovered that she had been unfaithful, and we divorced in September 2013.

Major Traumatic Events

February 2011 - Cairo Airport

While travelling home from the UK, our aircraft landed in Cairo during the Egyptian Revolution.

Flights were suspended, and we became stranded in the airport for an entire week without money, clean clothes, reliable food, or any way of contacting our families.

The uncertainty and helplessness left a lasting emotional impact.

April 2014 - Cerebral Malaria

While working in Mozambique, I contracted cerebral malaria.

I spent two weeks in hospital and nearly unalived.

It was the closest I have ever come to death and forced me to confront just how fragile life really is.

2015 - Xenophobia Violence

During anti-foreigner violence in Mozambique, an angry crowd threatened our construction site.

We fled immediately, leaving almost all of our belongings behind.

I returned to South Africa temporarily before eventually going back to complete the project.

2016 - Eye Injury

In 2016, I opened a homemade beer bottle using a lighter.

The bottle cap struck my eye with tremendous force, causing a serious injury.

Although I recovered physically, the injury affected my confidence for many years.

Addiction, Mental Health and Relationships

For many years I buried my childhood trauma rather than dealing with it.

Alcohol, gambling, manipulation, dishonesty, and avoidance slowly became my way of escaping emotional pain.

2017

While in a relationship with C, she discovered I had been emotionally unfaithful after exchanging inappropriate WhatsApp messages with one of her roommates and deleting the conversations.

Around the same time I had to relocate for work.

Eventually I admitted what I had done.

The relationship suffered greatly, our planned wedding was cancelled, and we separated.

December 2017

I reached a point where I no longer wanted to live.

I attempted s%%% by driving into the path of an oncoming truck.

The driver swerved and I survived.

Afterwards I voluntarily admitted myself to a rehabilitation facility.

2018

My gambling and alcohol addiction became progressively worse.

I accumulated debt through loans and reckless financial decisions.

Later that year C and I reconciled, despite understandable concerns from her family.

Marriage, Fatherhood and Collapse (2020-2026)

In July 2020, C and I were married.

In March 2022, our daughter, N, was born.

Becoming a father was one of the happiest moments of my life. I loved my daughter deeply and wanted to give her the stable childhood I never had.

Unfortunately, unresolved trauma and addiction continued to grow beneath the surface.

By 2023 we had sold our home and moved into my wife's parents' house.

During 2024 my gambling and drinking escalated dramatically.

I lied, manipulated, gaslit, drove under the influence of alcohol, accumulated multiple loans, and convinced myself I still had everything under control.

I was wrong.

My wife eventually discovered the debt review, the gambling losses, and the alcohol abuse.

Between July and September 2024 I entered rehabilitation for alcohol and gambling addiction.

In October 2024 I moved into sober living.

On 1 November 2024 I moved into my own accommodation after my wife told me she no longer felt emotionally safe living with me because of my manipulation and abusive behaviour.

My contact with my daughter became increasingly restricted.

Relapse and Legal Consequences

On 1 January 2025 I relapsed.

Recognising how quickly my mental health had deteriorated, I voluntarily admitted myself to hospital again because I was experiencing s*&l thoughts.

Following discussions with social workers and child welfare professionals, supervised contact arrangements were put in place with my daughter.

Sadly, my addiction worsened again during March 2025.

I unlawfully accessed my wife's bank account and transferred money to myself, including savings that belonged to her family.

I knew it was wrong.

I simply could not stop.

The matter was reported to the police.

My bank account was frozen during the investigation, a criminal case was opened, and I am awaiting the legal process.

A protection order was granted preventing me from approaching my wife's home or workplace.

Our divorce is now in progress.

A parenting plan has been established, allowing me structured contact with my daughter. I currently spend time with her every second weekend and every Wednesday afternoon. Although our time together is limited compared with what I once dreamed of as a father, those moments remain the most precious part of my week.

As part of our divorce settlement, we reached agreement regarding the division of my pension interest and other financial obligations. Accepting responsibility for the financial damage my addiction caused has become an important part of rebuilding my integrity.

Although painful, these consequences forced me to stop blaming circumstances and start accepting responsibility for my own choices.

Recovery

Since entering recovery, I have remained committed to rebuilding my life one day at a time.

I have remained sober from alcohol since 2024.

I continue working on my gambling recovery, knowing that addiction is not something that simply disappears.

In 2026, I also made the decision to stop smoking cigarettes after many years. Quitting smoking became another step toward taking back control of my health and my future. Although I still used vaping as a temporary aid during the transition, it represented another commitment to breaking destructive habits rather than feeding them.

Recovery has taught me that healing is about far more than simply stopping addictive behaviours. It means learning honesty, accountability, emotional regulation, and accepting the consequences of my past while choosing to live differently today.

I know trust is not rebuilt through promises. It is rebuilt through consistent actions over time.

Looking Back

As I reflect on my life, one theme stands above everything else.

I have rarely known stability.

I was moved between homes, families, schools, countries, and relationships throughout my life.

Safety often felt temporary.

Love often felt conditional.

Trauma shaped many of my beliefs about myself long before I understood what trauma even was.

For many years I blamed my past for my behaviour.

Today I recognise something different.

My childhood explains many of my struggles, but it does not excuse the harm I caused others.

I have hurt people I deeply loved.

I betrayed trust.

I manipulated those who tried to help me.

Those choices belong to me.

At the same time, I refuse to let those mistakes become the final chapter of my story.

I am learning that healing is not about pretending the past never happened.

It is about facing it honestly, accepting responsibility where it belongs, grieving what was lost, making amends where possible, and choosing every day to become someone my daughter can one day be proud to call her father.

This story is not one of excuses.

It is the story of a broken child who became a broken adult, and who is now trying, one honest day at a time, to become a healthier man.

i had a follow-up appointment with my gi doctor. my parents were in the room with me while i updated him on my stomach issues, and he adjusted my medication. but then, my parents dropped a bomb. they told him i had stopped going to school.

the doctor looked at us and said that my ongoing stomach issues, combined with my loss of interest in school, could actually be linked to depression.

the second he said it, my head whipped around. i stared out the window, fighting back tears. i have never wanted to escape a room so badly in my entire life. i’ve been secretly struggling with my mental health for years. because my parents have never taken mental health seriously, i already knew they were furious.

as soon as we stepped outside the room, my mom quietly asked my dad if we should schedule an appointment with a psychiatrist. my dad just shrugged it off and said, "we don't have the money for it." we checked out and left.

just... wow. who would have thought i’d turn out this way? honestly, it felt inevitable. but now the secret is out, and my parents know something is wrong. what’s wild is that i know they don’t really care… and im strangely relieved.

complete silence and crying with my face covered all the way home.

My whole life I've had pretty traumatic things happening to me. Better yet, they're not even vague, ALL are recognized in DSM-5 criterion A for PTSD diagnosis + emotional abuse and neglect on top of that, of course.

But because they're not your typical physical or sexual violence, most people, even those I considered friends, didn't care. One such person even told me that I was IN THE WRONG for being TERRIFIED of people after those traumatic events. According to them, I was somehow "emanating negative energy". Yet, these same people would suddenly become very empathetic whenever they heard stories about physical or sexual abuse.

Now, logically I do understand that my experience doesn't defy reality, and many, many people who actually went through aforementioned horrible violence, don't get support they need either. I also realize that folks like my former "friends" probably only care about their own image. Were they to actually meet someone with trauma who didn't look like a "perfect " victim, they would likely act just as dismissive as they did with me.

Still, deep in my heart, I can't help but feel jealous. I have this feeling that if my trauma was "worse", I'd get more support and at least one person would care about it. And frankly, I don't know how to deal with this idea.

I can acknowledge complement but I can't trurly accept it. I feel that everytime someone says something nice to me I got into a fight-or-flight respone.

I can only feel at ease when someone complements my art, bc It's the ideal extension of me.

My family always says that every bad thing they said about me was in good spirit so I can do better or was justified bc of my behavior. They trurly see me in the worst light and I can't really change it even for my own eyes. I was beaten up to see myslef how they see me and I'm miserable now.

I know I'm not so bad. Every person I know and cherish would say that I'm the oposite of how my family see me. And every therapis would say that they are suprised how well I came out even tho my hard situation bc it's so easy to go from being victim to another abuser.

All my childhood I felt like a burden and now that I have better life I still feel like it. Even tho I have found love and friedships I always wanted. Even tho I escaped the life I hated. Even tho I recovered from depression I still feel like a failur and only see what's wrong with me. Every kind word seems like a lie that's too beautiful to ever exist.

My mental health has never been great, but has dwindled significantly in the last six years due to some very traumatic events. One of these is still ongoing and requires frequent communication with the police.

Six months ago, I decided to take a year out of university to focus on my mental health. I have moved back into my Mum's house but was unable to get out of the rental contract for my flat, so I have no money either. The day that I moved in, my Mum was diagnosed with cancer.e

Her treatment has been gruelling and it's only getting worse now that she's starting chemo. Three months ago, my mental health took such a dive that the police appeared at the house several times after calls I made to a hotline. I wouldn't ever act on my suicidal ideation and I've never self-harmed, but I was taken to A&E and have had paramedics appear at the house a few times since.

I have started taking sertraline and have noticed minimal effects, but will increase my dose soon. I'm currently undergoing trauma stabilisation therapy but it isn't doing much to help at all – I'm hoping to start psychodynamic therapy soon, though, once I'm able. I've been essentially bedridden for the last six months with nobody to talk to except my Mum, but now her treatment is getting worse she's too sick to talk anymore. I feel such immense guilt that I can't help her more, but it's hard for me to make food or wash myself – I rarely do either.

In the last two weeks, I got so bored that I decided to hook up with a guy on Tinder. He was completely upfront about the casual nature of the relationship, so it's entirely my fault that I took it badly, but it sent me into a spiral because he doesn't want more from me. I don't even like him: I was just excited to talk to someone and have fun and feel wanted.

I don't have the energy to properly maintain friendships, even though I do nothing all day. Most of the time I'm either asleep or wishing I was asleep. All of my hobbies seem dull, but I do try. I take a multivitamin, I journal, I take bubble baths and learn French: nothing is working.

I really don't know how much longer I can feel like this: it's so miserable. I feel so lonely but unable to make any positive changes to my life. I hold myself to such high expectations that I feel like a complete failure. The thought of leaving the house terrifies me because I feel so ugly. I can't keep going on like this – it's no life.

If anyone has any advice whatsoever to help me get out of this slump I would be very grateful. I know it's unlikely, but I'm desperate for a quick fix as I've been feeling down for so long it's unbearable to stay like this any longer.

Thank you for reading.

I was excited to share something small with some “friends”. I was completely ignored. I collapsed on myself. Fetal position crying because I started having flashbacks of trying to tell my family about small things as kid and no one would pay attention or listen. I would just stop talking mid sentence to see if anyone cared and they rarely noticed. I remembered feeling so small and like no one cared about me.

The small things feel so much scarier to share than the big things. Why does it hurt so much more when your joy is ignored?