My siblings don't give a rat's ass about me, they don't even care to ask about me, they are willfully oblivious when it comes to my suffering, and even when it comes to who I am, as a human being. They are absorbed in other people, with far more privilege and far less problems (yet far more vocal complaints), and seem to have some type of grudge against me with unknown origins. Or at least, that's how they have come across towards me during various events, or when I have been around them for extended periods of time. They were absolutely put off by my presence and the ways in which I tried to cope with things unimaginable to them.
Which is odd, because if anyone should have some type of resentment against family members, it should be me, above all others.
Let me put it into perspective for you.
If I was a dog-barren, beaten, and shaking on the street for a good decade-and their SO or best friend were so much as "chilly", they would have me turned into a fur coat on the spot.
I am nothing to them, I am a non-person, an embarrassment, and they act as if it's my fault.
I am the freak, I am the burden.
If I so much as broach the subject of my circumstances, even in an indirect way, I will be met with silence (or worse).
So I don't bother most of the time, or at all. (I've learned that only bad things come of it.) For the younger of them, I have had to walk on eggshells or not interact at all, besides generously, else I risk being called ugly for the millionth time. There were many times I did not speak up or argue with them, later in life, because of that imbedded fear of having my appearance and worth attacked. A low blow that I would not indulge in personally. Especially in a case such as mine, where there is underlying truth to that sort of insult.
They don't know how interesting of a person I am, or could be, given the opportunities and predominantly unfettered bodies they have been given..and they never will (know me.)
We could have so much in common or worth sharing with one another, but no one wants to meet me halfway, and to ask me to be the one to extend every kindness, is asking a lot of someone who was made to fear even being seen. I have learned that the only way for me to avoid excess trauma, is to hide and become a ghost.
In this way, it will be very easy for them to go about their business when I'm dead. Nothing much will change.
It's a shame, because despite my necessary isolation and hatred/mixed feelings, I still try to know who they are, even if it's only through my mother, at this age (we were close as young children, but not since).
They don't care if I'm suicidal or why, they don't care if I'm happy or sad, all they care about is being better than me, and stealing the crumbs out of my mouth, whilst having their other hand resting on the buffet table. My mother also gives a thousand more shits about them, than me, even though they wave her off the majority of the time. They are prizes to be coveted and won, I am not.
My parents..well my father is extremely antagonistic when it comes to the subject, I have given up all hope when it comes to him, he complains about only being "used" for money when in actuality, he makes it a pain in the ass to get even the bare minimum of a stable, healthy home environment, and even calls people all types of names when the bare necessities are asked for. He doesn't offer any type of emotional support, he offers the exact opposite, so he only has himself to blame for his type of worth to the family. Plus, he's the parent, if he didn't want kids, or if he wanted perfect children that require nothing, then he shouldn't have procreated. (Same for my mother).
My father has literally mimicked me when I've cried, and enjoys frustrating me to the point of stuttering, he tattles on me to my mother as if I'm his sibling or something, he threatens the ambulance when I so much as cry, yet he is destructive and loud every single day and night. He is obviously not happy with his own life. I understand bitterness and resentment towards people that have more, especially when it's mostly due to things outside of our control, but that's not the case for me, in relation to him. I am destroyed and suffering, I have succeeded in absolutely nothing and I'm too old for my life to be salvageable.
He has even described me as a person who doesn't exist, such that he justifies not providing for me to the level he would be required to if I were living a "normal" life.
Yet he still treats me worse than any other person relative to him, it makes absolutely no sense besides the fact that I am an easy target and he likes to kick a dead horse.
I am the kindest to him overall, despite fights where I was rightfully pissed, I have nothing that would make anyone jealous or feel bad about themselves..I'm the type of person who walks into a room and makes everyone else feel instantly superior. So where his vitriol toward me, in particular, is coming from, I have no fucking idea.
...
I'm sick of him, I will not share my suicidality, or much else, with him ever again. I just avoid him now-as much as humanly possible. He has already asked me why I "haven't done it yet" as if I'm bluffing, despite the insane amount of evidence to the contrary. If nothing else, it should be clear to my parents, that I am a fucking miserable and desperate human being who has lost all their youthful years to a torturous situation.
My mother has been pretty terrible to me regarding my predicament, as well. Some
of the memories of how dismissive and blaming she was toward me, still haunt me at night. And at the time of those moments, I was a blubbering mess.
Now, looking back, I wish I had socked her in the face. (And done a lot worse to my father)
I know she lies to me about various things-because she doesn't like my reactions to hurtful news/subject matter. She doesn't let me feel and cry, without giving me a cold, hard stare, refusing to reply or comment on my endless lament, she has also threatened abandonment and cursed me out multiple times, but I'm sure she would deny it, as she has to my face.
She twists facts and alters the past so that she can avoid being frustrated with my response to the truth.
I don't trust her, she goes back and forth, she constantly pulls the rug out from under me and wavers in her support or "type" of support. When something upsets me, her answer is to rub it in my face further, to raise her voice and get mean or crazy herself.
Even well off people who cause me pain and excess torture, she makes sure I know she likes these people and will defend those who don't need to be defended, against her most unfortunate child.
I think there is a part of her that is glad her daughter can't outshine her, both her and my father take advantage of the fact that I can barely function, that I'm ugly and broken and reluctantly dependent.
The only reasoning to the contrary is that they are still ashamed of me, angry that they have to avoid the topic of one of their children in conversations (to which I say, boo fucking hoo, that's hardly something to whine about and censure me for.)
The subject of 'me' is a humiliating one.
I'm the scapegoat, I am the blame doll, I wonder what they will do with themselves when I'm gone. Probably still blame my dusty cremains, one way or another. (And it will be no different with my extended family, they will likely chalk me down as "mentally ill" and call it a day, absolving themselves of any guilt.)
I have begged so many times for certain wishes to be respected, and my mother has promised to respect them, but I can hardly believe her when even the requests I make while alive, are ignored for over a year (of me asking nearly every other day). She makes vows and sees how much distress certain things cause me, yet still presents the "oopsie" face when I confront her for continuing to engage in certain actions that directly shame and mortify me. She gets tired of my constant begging and pleading, yet won't just do what's necessary to lessen my pain. Requests I have every right to see met.
This might sound strange, after everything I just stated, but I will give my mother credit that she's better than anyone else is about the topic-AT TIMES-but even that took YEARS of exhaustive explanations of my waking nightmare, things that should not have to be explained AT ALL..and to make such little progress, culminating in but a fraction of what I would need to feel like I had a true, understanding confidant. Well, it's all pretty maddening.
The best I've gotten out of her is some reassurance that I will not be sent to the hospital every time I say I want to be dead (I can't say the same about anyone else in this disengaged family), she at least has come to the realization that that type of thing does me more harm than good, no good at all in fact.
She would probably be a good mother if she had an easy child who was more blessed genetically (and thus having more agreeable interactions with society and comfort in their own skin), but it's not my fault she decided to roll the dice with a human life, and got snake eyes.
The times where she is pleasant to be around, are the times I keep my mouth shut and internalize my constant worries and torment. And I just cannot do that any longer, even sporadically.
I'm so fucking tired.
Maybe at one point in time, I would have fought to exist, just out of spite for the lack of care I get from others, and the constant occurrence of me pouring out my woes to a brick wall..but not anymore, I'm done. This "life" is simply not worth living, I had a lot of ambition, endless dreams-once upon a time, and I've had to slowly grieve the permanent loss of it all. I will continue to grieve myself, time lost, who I could have been, what I could have achieved, even possible better relationships with the people I grew up with..but it is all for not. Now these grievances only serve their purpose in winding me down, on my path to the end.
