Your Best Isn't Good Enough
I've really been plummeting down a rabbit hole with all this analysis and reflection on my family and the reality of my experiences within that structure. I understand I cannot change anything. Nor is this necessarily about blaming anyone. It's more like just this cascade effect, where I saw one or two things, or better said I had revelations about what was really happening, and like a house of cards it's all just coming down in my mind now. I can see things in a way I never saw them before.
I said years ago that I thought my parents did the best they could. I knew they were flawed people but I see now their best wasn't good enough. In fact, it could be said in some cases they did their worst intentionally. I can't change that now. I have to keep reiterating that. This is realization happening. I am seeing reality after being trapped in a sort of delusion for years.
Many times in the past, and on the phone recently with the drama involving my sister, my mother has made comments about the disappointment she has in how our family was, how her children were, commenting on supposed failures of everyone to basically provide her with some idyllic Norman Rockwell picture of life and family. These comments have always been hurtful. Even before I was aware exactly of why. Often I think I internalized the pain of these comments and it obviously affected my self-worth and esteem. How could it not? When a parent openly or subtly implies that you are a disappointment to them, that is abuse in some way. You are projecting your failure as a parent and a person onto your child. When you see it that way, it's sick.
I think what is happening with me is that I am really shoring up my defenses and trying to build that esteem I was robbed of in my earlier years. Yelling at my mother or making her feel guilty will serve no purpose. But, in the future when I am faced with comments like those, I do think a response is justified and necessary.
Guess what mother, family life didn't turn out the way I thought it should have either. You're not the only one who gets to be the victim. You're not the only one who has been hurt or "inconvenienced" by things. I had parents who didn't teach me self-esteem. Who essentially robbed me of my self-worth. And if I ever implied (to them) that I wasn't taught something properly or useful in life by them, they'd both gaslight me.
My sister and I both grew up financially irresponsible. My mother was a penny-pincher who always saved and never used credit cards. None of this was ever imparted on us as kids. We never received a single lesson in money management or saving for the future, beyond being told we had to get jobs as soon as legally possible because we had to buy our own cars if we wanted to drive. Which, we had to drive because we had to get to the jobs, and she made it known that dropping us off and picking us up was inconvenient. All of that is fine, work ethic, earning our own money. Those were good things. But, they were applied in ways that seemed like punishment. With minimal efforts in the education of finances otherwise.
So, we both got credit cards, got into tons of debt, made incredibly poor financial decisions repeatedly and we both (even I) had these concepts of entitlement, that even though we couldn't afford things, we deserved them. Such behavior was derided by my parents, who expressed often their disappointment and shame over it. But, they contributed to the behavior. I can only speak for myself, but I didn't know any better. I was a kid and NO ONE TAUGHT ME otherwise. That would have been the role of the parent to do.
Conveniently then, my parents did not teach me the necessary lessons on money, but expressed their disappointment that I didn't know. Often suggesting I simply should have because *they* did. It was the same with mechanics and cars and my dad always fixing our vehicle problems. He would rage about us not knowing anything, but never once took me out into the garage and told me to sit there and learn. It wasn't until I was in my 30s when *I* made the conscious choice to seek his help and want to actively learn. Which, of course, was followed by much commentary about how I was an idiot and should have known it all beforehand.
I was so unaware and naive about the workings of the world, specifically in this example on owning a car, that I genuinely and legitimately did not know that one needed to change the oil on their vehicles after so many miles. I had no clue. Not because I was stupid, but I was a kid and never owned a car before, and no one ever told me such maintenance needed to occur. But, you better believe the first time there was an issue and my father determined it was due to the oil being low and never having been changed that I was derided for my "stupidity". Maybe not specifically with that word, though it wouldn't be unheard of for him to say that directly many other times.
I can't always just blame my mom, but she is the one still alive and still pulling her old tricks. Before my dad died, as I've written, I had a moment where I realized I was not going to play his games anymore. *Instantly* my point of view changed, my esteem asserted itself and I grew in that moment. I am seeking the same epiphany with my mother, though she is a master at guilt and I find it more difficult.
I've discussed the whole infantilization and how my parents and sister have all treated me like a child long into my adulthood. Not taking my opinions seriously. Not accepting actual facts when I present them. Treating everything I do like I am a sheep following someone else's lead. Dismissiveness. Disinterest. I sit here asking myself just now, did it really all happen like this? Am I misremembering? But, I know it did happen and still DOES happen. I know for decades I've literally been mid-sentence talking and every one of them at some point has glossed over, turned away, talking to dogs or started whole other conversations as I was speaking. And I stop talking, and no one even notices or says a thing. That still happens to this day. It is just one facet of this entire toxic atmosphere of my family.
Last night I kept going back to my junior high days. This is when cliques really started to form at school and I was becoming ostracized from my peers. Puberty was setting in, hormones were raging and every kid at school was turning into an asshole. Eventually even my "best friend", who'd been my friend since maybe 2nd or 3rd grade, told me that *I* was the reason he had no friends because I was such a loser. So I have this toxic environment at home, tearing down my esteem, and somehow I find myself surrounded by the same toxicity outside of my family. As a kid, how could I not blame myself?
But, to the point I was getting to, it was around this time that my parents adopted a new dog named Reilly, a springer spaniel. It is funny that I hadn't much thought on this subject for years, but once the current drama with my sister started, with my mother essentiality "siding" with her, that this stuff bubbled to the surface. I can't remember specific instances, but just a general memory of the time in which my mother began doting over this dog as if it was her child. I remember resenting the animal and being quite mean to him. It was clear I was aware that the dog was receiving all the praise and attention I had not been. There is just so much to unpack it's almost impossible, because every string pulled loosens dozens of other strings.
We have my parents who had marital issues my entire formative years. My father having potentially cheated on my mom when I was between three and five. My mother having a miscarriage. Then my therapist in the 2000s uncovered the fact that my parents had been using me as a weapon against each other during these times. Basically throughout grade school. My mother being smothering and overprotecting. My father being distant from her and taking me out of the house on weekends to go driving aimlessly for hours in the country. I don't think I even have the capacity to analyze all the toxicity of the things I do barely remember. But, again, my parents were just people and so all their issues were playing out and deeply affecting my development.
Then that dog came along and suddenly I saw this creature being showered with all the praise and attention I'd not been receiving, having basically been a pawn or tool my parents were using against each other. I remember when things got really bad in high school with the bullying and abuse, and one time and one time only did I attempt to tell my parents about it. The few words I said were met with complete disbelief and dismissiveness. To them it simply was not possible that I was friendless in high school. It was not possible the other students hated me so much that they were physically and verbally abusing me daily. They thought I was exaggerating. Or perhaps they thought I was lying for attention. Whatever they thought, they didn't think it was a concern.
And there I was, this young teenager, who absolutely was struggling with severe depression and thoughts of suicide, trying one time to seek the guidance of my parents and being told it was all in my head. I never again discussed the topic with them (at the time). Years later the subject did come up. My father was still dismissive, but my mother acted all hurt that this was happening and that I did not come to them. Clearly having no memory that I tried to. She then did the infantilization thing where she produced a pouty face and said something about her "baby" suffering with this silently. So even then, if she was truly acknowledging it, it still came across as disingenuous. I was in my early 40s when this conversation happened.
In another instance during the high school years, I was outside the house in winter just looking at the stars, depressed as all hell, walking around by myself. When I came inside they asked me if something was wrong. I was maybe 15 at the time, but I already knew there was no help they could give, even at that age. They were incapable of giving me guidance. So, I muttered that everything was fine in that slightly snotty teenage tone and went to my room.
They couldn't understand. They would refuse to understand. My pain wasn't real to them. Whether that makes them narcissists or not, I just don't know. I am so wrapped up in trying to define it all now but it's quite irrelevant. It doesn't make what happened worse or better to have a name for it. It was shitty, and that about sums it up.
There was one incident with some kid in the neighborhood picking on me or something when I was a little younger, and I have a clear memory of my dad joking with the kid and telling me he wasn't "just going to take" my side on whatever the stupid scuffle was. It seems I have an entire lifetime of memories of my parents choosing everything from dogs to other people's kids over me. How could I not have grown up fucked up. Children need validation from their parents. Mine almost seemed to make not giving me any a game.
And I had issues. I had all kinds of emotional issues, intimacy issues, relationship issues. My entire life has seemingly been a trial to overcome all the failures of my upbringing. I spent twenty years trying to find self-worth and self-esteem. And even now I can't talk like I have command of those things. Though I don't know how I've overcome what I have. I do think that the solitude I endured in my teenage years, though it seemed sad at the time, really strengthened the core of my character. Because I had no strong friendships (or any at all during some points), I turned inward. That sometimes involved a lot of self blame and self hatred, but it also provided me with what I think was a strongly developed ability of self-analysis, reflection and empathy. I think my writing in this journal is a testament to that fact. My own re-reading of my writings from 20 years ago shocked me with the level of introspection. Not in a way of arrogance to say I think I am "so smart and deep", but a real shock that I was so observant and aware back then, even if I didn't have all the pieces to put the puzzle together.
My mother (and sister) want to blame something for how my character has developed now. Because they think so little of me, they could never accept my having an independent thought or idea. So of course, if I am not standing for the toxicity and games anymore, it must mean the Sparrow has caused this. It can't possibly be that I've developed and grown as a person. I cannot think for myself, in their eyes.
I understand I am ruminating on the topic and that I cannot think for them or really know what they think. But the clues are there already, and I do think I am intuitive enough to see them. My sister's invoking of my sister-in-law and brother during the failed Thanksgiving conversation last year points to that idea they have that the Sparrow is "influencing" me. My mother's comments equating the assertion of my self-esteem as being "hateful", because she links some of the changes in my character to Donald Trump of all people is another factor. It is unacceptable to them that I've changed, because it means less control and less influence over me.
This really connects to things from my social circles in the past too. I wrote about it back years ago (maybe in the 2011-13 period) and always remembered it, even without reading it again. How Rockwell would get so incensed when I would attempt to change. And the real sense I got from many people I knew that they expected me to stay how I was and perform the role they expected me to. Often that role was being the clown and the drunk, available when they wanted to go out and didn't want to do so alone. But, beyond that, I had little purpose for them. I wasn't rich, I had no status. I was a joke... and this was quite often expressed when they would collectively mock my income and living situations.
Many times in my life I have asked "Who could I have been..." if I had friends who were supportive, or parents who instilled self-esteem on me. If I had positive, motivating people surrounding me. Who could I have been?
Yet, I always say that the past is in the past, and it cannot be changed. All I can take from this is that I can still BE who I want to be NOW. The only issue is overcoming the struggle I have with my esteem, with the toxicity I've endured, having my toxic family and friends still existing within me in some fashion. It is a poison of sorts, and I do not know if my veins will ever truly be cleared of it.
I do not think I am a "bad" person (flawed of course) but when I find myself thinking of the relief of my mother passing away so that I can be done with that and cut off my sister completely, that says something about the trauma I feel about the whole situation. Of course, I don't wish my mother dead, but the pain within me is so intense my learned reaction over decades of such abuse is to get away from it as quickly as possible. My therapist used to tell me I internalized all this abuse, and I do agree. But my fight-or-flight is strongly activated by it all too. I would rather remove myself from the painful situation than endure it, even for the sake of family or common courtesy. In high school removal was impossible, so in those situations I shut down completely and did not even move or speak... even when physical abuse was being brought down on me. I sat perfectly still and took it. What else could I do? I was never taught to defend myself. Only to fear the consequences of doing so (i.e. detention, staying late and missing the bus and inconveniencing my parents).
And none of them will ever know. My sister, Rockwell, they'll never be able to see the kind of people they are. They are incapable of that level of self-reflection. It can't ever be them, it can only be everyone else. They are the victims. With my mother, I just don't know if she can be considered narcissistic or not. She is manipulative. She does see herself as a victim. She is incapable of change, and I've always thought a bit too slow to even have the ability to self-reflect or have any critical thinking, which could be unrelated to narcissism.
I know this is just a period of analysis and transition for me. But, I can't help but feel these topics dominating my thought processes the past few months. I am so ready to be done with it, but it just all lingers out there. And with every forthcoming holiday there is the question of what my actions are going to be. Do I have the courage to say no, I am not participating in the madness. Am I strong enough to say no, my partner and I are going to celebrate the holiday on our own, at our own house.
I feel it within me already. Those seeds of guilt my mother has sewn my entire life. I can hear in my head her curt tone, her simpering sniffles as she starts to cry because only she is the victim of all this. She has no idea the turmoil going on in my head since this erupted in November. She has no concept of the failures of her parenting along with my father. She may cry on the phone about it, but I see how this is more about her getting sympathy and attention. *She* has to be the victim. This has all happened to *her*. There can be no adult conversation about it. We can't simply discuss the reality of it all. And my asserting myself will be viewed as "hateful".
Of course, it is hateful. I am not going along with your bullshit anymore. You have lost at least some control over me. As a manipulator, how could you see it as anything other than hateful toward you.
I said years ago that I thought my parents did the best they could. I knew they were flawed people but I see now their best wasn't good enough. In fact, it could be said in some cases they did their worst intentionally. I can't change that now. I have to keep reiterating that. This is realization happening. I am seeing reality after being trapped in a sort of delusion for years.
Many times in the past, and on the phone recently with the drama involving my sister, my mother has made comments about the disappointment she has in how our family was, how her children were, commenting on supposed failures of everyone to basically provide her with some idyllic Norman Rockwell picture of life and family. These comments have always been hurtful. Even before I was aware exactly of why. Often I think I internalized the pain of these comments and it obviously affected my self-worth and esteem. How could it not? When a parent openly or subtly implies that you are a disappointment to them, that is abuse in some way. You are projecting your failure as a parent and a person onto your child. When you see it that way, it's sick.
I think what is happening with me is that I am really shoring up my defenses and trying to build that esteem I was robbed of in my earlier years. Yelling at my mother or making her feel guilty will serve no purpose. But, in the future when I am faced with comments like those, I do think a response is justified and necessary.
Guess what mother, family life didn't turn out the way I thought it should have either. You're not the only one who gets to be the victim. You're not the only one who has been hurt or "inconvenienced" by things. I had parents who didn't teach me self-esteem. Who essentially robbed me of my self-worth. And if I ever implied (to them) that I wasn't taught something properly or useful in life by them, they'd both gaslight me.
My sister and I both grew up financially irresponsible. My mother was a penny-pincher who always saved and never used credit cards. None of this was ever imparted on us as kids. We never received a single lesson in money management or saving for the future, beyond being told we had to get jobs as soon as legally possible because we had to buy our own cars if we wanted to drive. Which, we had to drive because we had to get to the jobs, and she made it known that dropping us off and picking us up was inconvenient. All of that is fine, work ethic, earning our own money. Those were good things. But, they were applied in ways that seemed like punishment. With minimal efforts in the education of finances otherwise.
So, we both got credit cards, got into tons of debt, made incredibly poor financial decisions repeatedly and we both (even I) had these concepts of entitlement, that even though we couldn't afford things, we deserved them. Such behavior was derided by my parents, who expressed often their disappointment and shame over it. But, they contributed to the behavior. I can only speak for myself, but I didn't know any better. I was a kid and NO ONE TAUGHT ME otherwise. That would have been the role of the parent to do.
Conveniently then, my parents did not teach me the necessary lessons on money, but expressed their disappointment that I didn't know. Often suggesting I simply should have because *they* did. It was the same with mechanics and cars and my dad always fixing our vehicle problems. He would rage about us not knowing anything, but never once took me out into the garage and told me to sit there and learn. It wasn't until I was in my 30s when *I* made the conscious choice to seek his help and want to actively learn. Which, of course, was followed by much commentary about how I was an idiot and should have known it all beforehand.
I was so unaware and naive about the workings of the world, specifically in this example on owning a car, that I genuinely and legitimately did not know that one needed to change the oil on their vehicles after so many miles. I had no clue. Not because I was stupid, but I was a kid and never owned a car before, and no one ever told me such maintenance needed to occur. But, you better believe the first time there was an issue and my father determined it was due to the oil being low and never having been changed that I was derided for my "stupidity". Maybe not specifically with that word, though it wouldn't be unheard of for him to say that directly many other times.
I can't always just blame my mom, but she is the one still alive and still pulling her old tricks. Before my dad died, as I've written, I had a moment where I realized I was not going to play his games anymore. *Instantly* my point of view changed, my esteem asserted itself and I grew in that moment. I am seeking the same epiphany with my mother, though she is a master at guilt and I find it more difficult.
I've discussed the whole infantilization and how my parents and sister have all treated me like a child long into my adulthood. Not taking my opinions seriously. Not accepting actual facts when I present them. Treating everything I do like I am a sheep following someone else's lead. Dismissiveness. Disinterest. I sit here asking myself just now, did it really all happen like this? Am I misremembering? But, I know it did happen and still DOES happen. I know for decades I've literally been mid-sentence talking and every one of them at some point has glossed over, turned away, talking to dogs or started whole other conversations as I was speaking. And I stop talking, and no one even notices or says a thing. That still happens to this day. It is just one facet of this entire toxic atmosphere of my family.
Last night I kept going back to my junior high days. This is when cliques really started to form at school and I was becoming ostracized from my peers. Puberty was setting in, hormones were raging and every kid at school was turning into an asshole. Eventually even my "best friend", who'd been my friend since maybe 2nd or 3rd grade, told me that *I* was the reason he had no friends because I was such a loser. So I have this toxic environment at home, tearing down my esteem, and somehow I find myself surrounded by the same toxicity outside of my family. As a kid, how could I not blame myself?
But, to the point I was getting to, it was around this time that my parents adopted a new dog named Reilly, a springer spaniel. It is funny that I hadn't much thought on this subject for years, but once the current drama with my sister started, with my mother essentiality "siding" with her, that this stuff bubbled to the surface. I can't remember specific instances, but just a general memory of the time in which my mother began doting over this dog as if it was her child. I remember resenting the animal and being quite mean to him. It was clear I was aware that the dog was receiving all the praise and attention I had not been. There is just so much to unpack it's almost impossible, because every string pulled loosens dozens of other strings.
We have my parents who had marital issues my entire formative years. My father having potentially cheated on my mom when I was between three and five. My mother having a miscarriage. Then my therapist in the 2000s uncovered the fact that my parents had been using me as a weapon against each other during these times. Basically throughout grade school. My mother being smothering and overprotecting. My father being distant from her and taking me out of the house on weekends to go driving aimlessly for hours in the country. I don't think I even have the capacity to analyze all the toxicity of the things I do barely remember. But, again, my parents were just people and so all their issues were playing out and deeply affecting my development.
Then that dog came along and suddenly I saw this creature being showered with all the praise and attention I'd not been receiving, having basically been a pawn or tool my parents were using against each other. I remember when things got really bad in high school with the bullying and abuse, and one time and one time only did I attempt to tell my parents about it. The few words I said were met with complete disbelief and dismissiveness. To them it simply was not possible that I was friendless in high school. It was not possible the other students hated me so much that they were physically and verbally abusing me daily. They thought I was exaggerating. Or perhaps they thought I was lying for attention. Whatever they thought, they didn't think it was a concern.
And there I was, this young teenager, who absolutely was struggling with severe depression and thoughts of suicide, trying one time to seek the guidance of my parents and being told it was all in my head. I never again discussed the topic with them (at the time). Years later the subject did come up. My father was still dismissive, but my mother acted all hurt that this was happening and that I did not come to them. Clearly having no memory that I tried to. She then did the infantilization thing where she produced a pouty face and said something about her "baby" suffering with this silently. So even then, if she was truly acknowledging it, it still came across as disingenuous. I was in my early 40s when this conversation happened.
In another instance during the high school years, I was outside the house in winter just looking at the stars, depressed as all hell, walking around by myself. When I came inside they asked me if something was wrong. I was maybe 15 at the time, but I already knew there was no help they could give, even at that age. They were incapable of giving me guidance. So, I muttered that everything was fine in that slightly snotty teenage tone and went to my room.
They couldn't understand. They would refuse to understand. My pain wasn't real to them. Whether that makes them narcissists or not, I just don't know. I am so wrapped up in trying to define it all now but it's quite irrelevant. It doesn't make what happened worse or better to have a name for it. It was shitty, and that about sums it up.
There was one incident with some kid in the neighborhood picking on me or something when I was a little younger, and I have a clear memory of my dad joking with the kid and telling me he wasn't "just going to take" my side on whatever the stupid scuffle was. It seems I have an entire lifetime of memories of my parents choosing everything from dogs to other people's kids over me. How could I not have grown up fucked up. Children need validation from their parents. Mine almost seemed to make not giving me any a game.
And I had issues. I had all kinds of emotional issues, intimacy issues, relationship issues. My entire life has seemingly been a trial to overcome all the failures of my upbringing. I spent twenty years trying to find self-worth and self-esteem. And even now I can't talk like I have command of those things. Though I don't know how I've overcome what I have. I do think that the solitude I endured in my teenage years, though it seemed sad at the time, really strengthened the core of my character. Because I had no strong friendships (or any at all during some points), I turned inward. That sometimes involved a lot of self blame and self hatred, but it also provided me with what I think was a strongly developed ability of self-analysis, reflection and empathy. I think my writing in this journal is a testament to that fact. My own re-reading of my writings from 20 years ago shocked me with the level of introspection. Not in a way of arrogance to say I think I am "so smart and deep", but a real shock that I was so observant and aware back then, even if I didn't have all the pieces to put the puzzle together.
My mother (and sister) want to blame something for how my character has developed now. Because they think so little of me, they could never accept my having an independent thought or idea. So of course, if I am not standing for the toxicity and games anymore, it must mean the Sparrow has caused this. It can't possibly be that I've developed and grown as a person. I cannot think for myself, in their eyes.
I understand I am ruminating on the topic and that I cannot think for them or really know what they think. But the clues are there already, and I do think I am intuitive enough to see them. My sister's invoking of my sister-in-law and brother during the failed Thanksgiving conversation last year points to that idea they have that the Sparrow is "influencing" me. My mother's comments equating the assertion of my self-esteem as being "hateful", because she links some of the changes in my character to Donald Trump of all people is another factor. It is unacceptable to them that I've changed, because it means less control and less influence over me.
This really connects to things from my social circles in the past too. I wrote about it back years ago (maybe in the 2011-13 period) and always remembered it, even without reading it again. How Rockwell would get so incensed when I would attempt to change. And the real sense I got from many people I knew that they expected me to stay how I was and perform the role they expected me to. Often that role was being the clown and the drunk, available when they wanted to go out and didn't want to do so alone. But, beyond that, I had little purpose for them. I wasn't rich, I had no status. I was a joke... and this was quite often expressed when they would collectively mock my income and living situations.
Many times in my life I have asked "Who could I have been..." if I had friends who were supportive, or parents who instilled self-esteem on me. If I had positive, motivating people surrounding me. Who could I have been?
Yet, I always say that the past is in the past, and it cannot be changed. All I can take from this is that I can still BE who I want to be NOW. The only issue is overcoming the struggle I have with my esteem, with the toxicity I've endured, having my toxic family and friends still existing within me in some fashion. It is a poison of sorts, and I do not know if my veins will ever truly be cleared of it.
I do not think I am a "bad" person (flawed of course) but when I find myself thinking of the relief of my mother passing away so that I can be done with that and cut off my sister completely, that says something about the trauma I feel about the whole situation. Of course, I don't wish my mother dead, but the pain within me is so intense my learned reaction over decades of such abuse is to get away from it as quickly as possible. My therapist used to tell me I internalized all this abuse, and I do agree. But my fight-or-flight is strongly activated by it all too. I would rather remove myself from the painful situation than endure it, even for the sake of family or common courtesy. In high school removal was impossible, so in those situations I shut down completely and did not even move or speak... even when physical abuse was being brought down on me. I sat perfectly still and took it. What else could I do? I was never taught to defend myself. Only to fear the consequences of doing so (i.e. detention, staying late and missing the bus and inconveniencing my parents).
And none of them will ever know. My sister, Rockwell, they'll never be able to see the kind of people they are. They are incapable of that level of self-reflection. It can't ever be them, it can only be everyone else. They are the victims. With my mother, I just don't know if she can be considered narcissistic or not. She is manipulative. She does see herself as a victim. She is incapable of change, and I've always thought a bit too slow to even have the ability to self-reflect or have any critical thinking, which could be unrelated to narcissism.
I know this is just a period of analysis and transition for me. But, I can't help but feel these topics dominating my thought processes the past few months. I am so ready to be done with it, but it just all lingers out there. And with every forthcoming holiday there is the question of what my actions are going to be. Do I have the courage to say no, I am not participating in the madness. Am I strong enough to say no, my partner and I are going to celebrate the holiday on our own, at our own house.
I feel it within me already. Those seeds of guilt my mother has sewn my entire life. I can hear in my head her curt tone, her simpering sniffles as she starts to cry because only she is the victim of all this. She has no idea the turmoil going on in my head since this erupted in November. She has no concept of the failures of her parenting along with my father. She may cry on the phone about it, but I see how this is more about her getting sympathy and attention. *She* has to be the victim. This has all happened to *her*. There can be no adult conversation about it. We can't simply discuss the reality of it all. And my asserting myself will be viewed as "hateful".
Of course, it is hateful. I am not going along with your bullshit anymore. You have lost at least some control over me. As a manipulator, how could you see it as anything other than hateful toward you.