It's been hard for me even identifying what I went through as abusive because there are so many people who had it so much worse, and I knew quite a few of them personally, as a kid -- it's not harder for me than it is for the people who have it worse, obviously, but it's still hard. My dad meant well and did a pretty good job. My mom was mentally ill, though, and seriously fucked in the head because her parents were emotionally/verbally abusive as well. So, really, I feel like I don't have any reason to blame them TOO much for doing the best they could with what they had . . . and I believe that about 70% of the time, they DID. I feel kind of bad taking up space in a therapy system that is full of people way worse off than me. I feel horrible sitting there and going "IT WAS MY MOTHERRRRRR. ERMAHGERRRRRRRD!" when there are drug addicts waiting for someone to help them.
And yet everything up there ^^^ is stuff that my mom did to me, some of it she did every day. So I can't argue that I had it GOOD. And ignoring it so as not to keep other sick people away from help THEY need has done nothing but make me sicker with very little documentation of the illness.
It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I was abused, because my mother was SO good at hiding it, and at making sure that no one would believe anything I told them. And I knew kids who had it worse, and I felt like it wasn't appropriate to class my childhood in the same terms as theirs.
As an adult, in retrospect, knowing what I know now about parenting and healthy interactions, I can acknowledge that although it was mostly emotional/verbal abuse with occasional physical abuse disguised as "discipline", it was still abuse.
**hugs**
I heard a lot of this shit, too, growing up. I'm glad you're calling it out.
-- A (who is just grateful that I managed, through research, observation, doing my damndest not to repeat my parents' mistakes but not just reflexively doing the opposite of everything they did, and sheer force of love for my daughter, not to fuck up raising her. But it was the conscious work of many years, rather than any kind of "natural instincts," because the only patterns I had to fall back on were bad ones.)
And yet everything up there ^^^ is stuff that my mom did to me, some of it she did every day. So I can't argue that I had it GOOD. And ignoring it so as not to keep other sick people away from help THEY need has done nothing but make me sicker with very little documentation of the illness.
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As an adult, in retrospect, knowing what I know now about parenting and healthy interactions, I can acknowledge that although it was mostly emotional/verbal abuse with occasional physical abuse disguised as "discipline", it was still abuse.
**hugs**
I heard a lot of this shit, too, growing up. I'm glad you're calling it out.
-- A (who is just grateful that I managed, through research, observation, doing my damndest not to repeat my parents' mistakes but not just reflexively doing the opposite of everything they did, and sheer force of love for my daughter, not to fuck up raising her. But it was the conscious work of many years, rather than any kind of "natural instincts," because the only patterns I had to fall back on were bad ones.)
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My mother suffers chronic depression. This pretty much is a blueprint of 90% of the misery that went on while I was growing up.
Thankfully, my dad did what he could to counter it all. He was the part that mattered, and the reason I can at least appear to be socially adjusted.
I should print that and snail mail it to my mother.
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