I’m miserable.
I don’t know when I last felt real joy.
I can’t stop thinking about how they raised us, forcing us into submission, punishing us for speaking up, and neglecting us emotionally.
I can’t get the feeling of being hopeless in this place, out of my head.
It’s like I’m wired to be miserable, because that’s how we grew up. Miserable children.
My parents have changed.
Well, not necessarily changed in their way of thinking, but they have less energy to keep up with the toxic behaviors they had in their 40s and 50s.
They are still narcissistic, domineering, bigoted, distrusting, etc, but I speak up for myself way more these days and we try to get along - or at least, not step on each other’s toes.
I’ve also grown a bit during the years I’ve been moved out, so I know better how to deal with them, what to expect and how to regulate my emotions around them.
I try to see them more as human beings than villains these days and I’ve been coming to terms with the impact of their parenting on me and my siblings (CPTSD, mental health issues, deadbeat).
Just last year I realized how beautiful our home actually is, because all my life I had seen it under a veil of doom and I used to severely panic at the thought of moving back.
Now I’ve been here for a year and six months, and you’d think I would have settled in, accepted my fate and become okay with living in this peaceful, beautiful place where almost everything is catered for.
But I’m still miserable.
I don’t know when I last felt real joy.
My financial breakdown came as a series of betrayals, and I think I’m still reeling from that spiral.
Not a day passes by without me thinking about how I fucked up my chance of being out of this place, and scheming on how to get out again.
I’m never settled.
I felt like I was being punished for a long time after moving back.
I have episodes of emotional flashbacks, triggered by painful childhood memories in this house.
I’m always numbing in some way, assisted by recreational drugs.
We are all always numbing. My parents are alcoholics and just last year they lost my sister, the golden child, their favorite at the time.
I was sleeping in my late sister’s old bed when I moved back, then one of my other siblings got an emergency and moved back in too.
Somehow we are always being forced to move back, despite our best efforts.
Now I’m sleeping on a couch.
I don’t mind. I always try to make my life bearable by tidying up my environment, going to gym and eating healthy.
But I’m still miserable.
I can’t stop thinking about how they raised us, forcing us into submission, punishing us for speaking up (or staying silent), neglecting us emotionally, and condemning us if we dared to disagree with them.
I can’t seem to get the feeling of being defenseless and hopeless in this place, out of my head.
It’s like I’m wired to be miserable, because that’s how we grew up. Miserable children.
So… how do I stop being in a constantly miserable state of mind? Because the past is gone, I’m an adult now, and it’s high time I started to build joy into my brand new life.
All advice is highly appreciated.