Story The Good and Effed Journal to Prevent Me from Writing a Suicide Note

[Suez]

I remember reading and pondering that quote in one of the narcissistic mother books I just read.

The insanity I experienced with my mother was that her words and reactions did not match reality, she told me that different things were happening than actually were, or that I have different motivations for my actions than I actually did. It was constant gaslighting, albeit not intentionally manipulative on her part but a reflection of how she perceived things which she took as and insisted was fact, and that is what felt like insanity. She saw something utterly different than reality, and insisted it was reality, and while my father bought into her narratives, I did not, so I was beaten for disagreeing, kicked out, and ultimately shunned, leaving me countless times from the earliest age angry and confused and alone. Outside support challenged her authority to define reality, and so I was isolated and removed from all healthy and rational supports like therapy and the parents of other children, which is likely why I didn't get to spend nearly enough times in the homes of my friends, because their parents would have had a stabilizing influence.

The explanations in the book of how a child of a narcissist develops didn't accurately describe how I developed, or perhaps how it was worded didn't resonate with my lived experience, because it tended to focus heavily on the child who did not develop an identity, and I developed a strong one that had distortions but did have at least some strength and grounding in reality, which brought up in me such strong feelings of anger, impotence, and rebellion. It was another book that described the roles assigned by a narcissistic mother which addressed my experience, that of the scapegoat, which helped me see how I responded with rebelliousness and a much stronger sense of self than many children of narcissistic parents. I definitely had inner critic issues and self hatred as quoted above, but I also was able to maintain throughout a sense that she was to blame for her abusiveness rather than me. I still had some inherent inner foundation and sense of self that she wasn't able to break. She forced independence on me many times to make me crumble, and made me her enemy so that I would concede, and while I was tossed around by her storms, I still had some roots that kept me from being completely blown away and was able to remain a self that was not thoroughly enmeshed with her, not totally defeated and sublimated by her. I think that because she wasn't a full-on narcissicist but had narcissistic tendencies, she was not so fully manipulative that she could mold me; instead, she was taken over by narcissistic rages that were meant to brandish anger to such a degree that I (and sometimes my father) would back off to her will, only I never fully did, so whatever she tried to create with me, she fucked it up herself by losing control to her rages, a stark contrast to the self-control, sufficiency, and "normalcy" she seems to embody in daily life, which makes others think she is extremely capable and grounded. It is a very strong facade, and the rages break it, and I (and occasionally my father) were the scapegoats for her losing self-control and challenging her false perceptions of and dominion over the reality of the home, which, as a mother, she tried to extend into my autonomous experience of life outside the home. Perhaps that is one reason I was so isolated; she could not "trust" me that I would carry her reality out into the world with me when she was not present to control me. Because I am so different from her (in great part because I am adopted), I have never been a representation of her at home or in the world, I had an identity she could not break, I was not pliant and could not be molded. And so I was at fault. I was "wild." It never occurred to her to reward good behaviors to reinforce them, they were simply expected, only to punish that which didn't fit her narrative and expectations, but it was impossible for me to be otherwise because I do not share her or my father's DNA, I am inherently not like them. And so I didn't feel so much shame as in your quote, I felt like she considered me a bad investment (adoption is expensive), and I did not bring the returns she expected.

Once again, this external thinking has helped bring to the surface and work out things that have troubled me for years. It may have seemed as if I was arguing with or negating you, but I was struggling with the quote and the definitions it was placing on my that didn't quite fit. By debating with it, and relating it to other sources, the struggle brought up more things I was seeking to answer, and I did. Once again, this thread has been rewarding for me. Thanks for engaging.

Where do you think you developed

I remember reading and pondering that quote in one of the narcissistic mother books I just read.

The insanity I experienced with my mother was that her words and reactions did not match reality, she told me that different things were happening than actually were, or that I have different motivations for my actions than I actually did. It was constant gaslighting, albeit not intentionally manipulative on her part but a reflection of how she perceived things which she took as and insisted was fact, and that is what felt like insanity. She saw something utterly different than reality, and insisted it was reality, and while my father bought into her narratives, I did not, so I was beaten for disagreeing, kicked out, and ultimately shunned, leaving me countless times from the earliest age angry and confused and alone. Outside support challenged her authority to define reality, and so I was isolated and removed from all healthy and rational supports like therapy and the parents of other children, which is likely why I didn't get to spend nearly enough times in the homes of my friends, because their parents would have had a stabilizing influence.

The explanations in the book of how a child of a narcissist develops didn't accurately describe how I developed, or perhaps how it was worded didn't resonate with my lived experience, because it tended to focus heavily on the child who did not develop an identity, and I developed a strong one that had distortions but did have at least some strength and grounding in reality, which brought up in me such strong feelings of anger, impotence, and rebellion. It was another book that described the roles assigned by a narcissistic mother which addressed my experience, that of the scapegoat, which helped me see how I responded with rebelliousness and a much stronger sense of self than many children of narcissistic parents. I definitely had inner critic issues and self hatred as quoted above, but I also was able to maintain throughout a sense that she was to blame for her abusiveness rather than me. I still had some inherent inner foundation and sense of self that she wasn't able to break. She forced independence on me many times to make me crumble, and made me her enemy so that I would concede, and while I was tossed around by her storms, I still had some roots that kept me from being completely blown away and was able to remain a self that was not thoroughly enmeshed with her, not totally defeated and sublimated by her. I think that because she wasn't a full-on narcissicist but had narcissistic tendencies, she was not so fully manipulative that she could mold me; instead, she was taken over by narcissistic rages that were meant to brandish anger to such a degree that I (and sometimes my father) would back off to her will, only I never fully did, so whatever she tried to create with me, she fucked it up herself by losing control to her rages, a stark contrast to the self-control, sufficiency, and "normalcy" she seems to embody in daily life, which makes others think she is extremely capable and grounded. It is a very strong facade, and the rages break it, and I (and occasionally my father) were the scapegoats for her losing self-control and challenging her false perceptions of and dominion over the reality of the home, which, as a mother, she tried to extend into my autonomous experience of life outside the home. Perhaps that is one reason I was so isolated; she could not "trust" me that I would carry her reality out into the world with me when she was not present to control me. Because I am so different from her (in great part because I am adopted), I have never been a representation of her at home or in the world, I had an identity she could not break, I was not pliant and could not be molded. And so I was at fault. I was "wild." It never occurred to her to reward good behaviors to reinforce them, they were simply expected, only to punish that which didn't fit her narrative and expectations, but it was impossible for me to be otherwise because I do not share her or my father's DNA, I am inherently not like them. And so I didn't feel so much shame as in your quote, I felt like she considered me a bad investment (adoption is expensive), and I did not bring the returns she expected.

Once again, this external thinking has helped bring to the surface and work out things that have troubled me for years. It may have seemed as if I was arguing with or negating you, but I was struggling with the quote and the definitions it was placing on my that didn't quite fit. By debating with it, and relating it to other sources, the struggle brought up more things I was seeking to answer, and I did. Once again, this thread has been rewarding for me. Thanks for engaging.

I think its great that you are able to put your stories out there and and as if seeing them all there in front of you, you are able to move them around, talk to them, re-arrange some of them, play with them, laugh with some of them argue with some & perhaps cry with some and use them in a way to heal yourself. I have . and I dont know if "enjoyed" is the correct word to use here, but I do enjoy the way that you write and so for that reason I use that word to describe your stories. I have never thought that you were arguing with me or negating me in any way. In this last post, I referred, especially in the second part of my post to a letter written to me by a friend who was the daughter of a Narcissistic mother and whom in her letter to me wrote about the "undermining in the development of identity" and a book that she was reading and perhaps that was what you were referring to. I wonder, how were you able to keep your identity with such a controlling mother? That must have been incredibly hard to maintain, surely she would have wanted to demolish everything about you that was self and everything about you that wasnt a mirror image of her? Because surely she would have seen herself as superior to you? But, she had a better way of acheiving that , because by giving you independence , by giving you some room on the leash she was giving you enough space to make mistakes and the minute you made mistakes she could then chime in with I told you so, or what did you expect you stupid $#^%$## How incredibly brave you were to navigate growing up in such a toxic environment. Living with a chameleon, whose reality was what ever allows her to maintain her own grandiose sense of self. I wonder what you would see if you were to pull apart the Narcissistic chameleon? Narcissists are amnesiac, they always seem to exhibit some kind of difficult in remembering things, particularly things of importance. Psychopaths are also amnesiac. I read somewhere that Pathological narcissism has been compared to Dissociative Identity Disorder, which by definition, means the narcissist has at least two selves. The Pathological Narcissist personality is also very primitive and disorganized. Because their contact with the world and with others is via a fictitious construct. Narcissists never experience reality directly but through a distorting lens. They get rid of any information that challenges their grandiose self-perception and the narrative they had constructed to explicate, excuse and legitimize their antisocial, self-centred and exploitative behaviors, choices and idiosyncrasies. Its interesting that both those Psychopathys are the central personality disorders apparently associated with the Narcissistic mother. Thankyou for sharing your stories with us GoodPersonEffed :)

 

[itsamadworld]

Just wanted to mention for those unfamiliar with me, my reasons for ctb have nothing to do with my parents.

I appreciate all of the responses I've been getting here. Many folks have said things similar to what I would say to another if they'd been through the same things. I would be angry on their behalf. I would say that the parents could fuck right off.

It is an odd experience to come out of decades of denial of the truth, even as I never denied to myself the truth, and of having deeply loved people who didn't equally demonstrate deep love for me, including respect for my body, my safety, and my autonomy, people who did not and do not share my values. I think it was @Una who commented something along the lines of, it's a parent's job to prepare their child for independence. My mother kept me isolated, and seemed to want me to want to be physically close and docile, as she purportedly was a a child. My entire life, she punished me for being okay with not clinging, and yet she didn't enjoy playing with me or cuddling for long periods (and my father has touch aversion). There simply was no winning with either of them. Had I been the kind of child they purportedly wanted, then they would have wanted something different.

Still, it is so odd to come out, in stages, of decades of gaslighting, of being told that my life was not as I experienced it, that I was to blame, that those I deeply love(d) did not deeply love me, to have the truth demanded of me by people who lied to themselves and to others outside of the home. It was quite a mindfuck. I recover in stages. Things are coming up and demanding attention, so I'm giving it in order that more healing can occur. I had a therapist tell me in my twenties that it's not natural for a child to feel such intense love and hate for a parent but is a sign of abuse, that it's natural to pull away, cut the apron strings, and live their own lives. I was punished for doing just that, and maybe that will be the subject of the next post. It sucks that I'm still dealing with so much anger and so much love for people who, if they were considering ctb, I think would not have anywhere as much consideration for my feelings or the things I would have to sort out if they didn't make arrangements that legally excluded me from any responsibilities. I wish that they weren't my next of kin, that they wouldn't be notified, but I can't change that they are and that they will be. I do not seek as some on SS do to disappear, because that would put me in a position of vulnerability to potentially live and be at the mercy of an abusive other. However, in processing this and getting feedback, I don't think I'm going to care so much anymore that my parents will be notified and will have to make difficult decisions. Thank you for that.

Thank you to everyone who has read the OP, and for all of the comments. I can't always read others' triggering posts, and I appreciate those who were able to read mine in the thread this far.

Sounds like you and I had similar childhoods, in some ways..I'm sorry you had to go through all that stuff. I hope you find peace.
The 1980's sure were crazy decade. Decade I was born...I found myself liking that series "Stranger Things" , the first two seasons...:) It seems like some of us were just born to be programmed, repeatedly harassed, and coraled by our handlers. I don't think it's gotten any better. I hope I don't get reassigned to this planet if there is reincarnation or whatever that's called. Maybe a more hospitable planet, with a more stable species, or I'd rather prefer nothing at all. Anyways, thanks for sharing.

 

[GoodPersonEffed]

Please no comments in response to what I'm going to write here.

This journaling thread has helped me process, and I just came to a new understanding, so when I refer back to this thread, I need this comment to be a part of it.

I had a thought today that if my mom or dad were to ctb, they would not be worrying about how I'll be impacted as I am concerned for and worry about them. They've already shut me out, the worst a family can do to one of its members. Nothing they do is with consideration for me.

Never have their actions toward me reflected concern about how I would be negatively impacted, nor after. My mother had a twisted view that helping me would do me harm by making me less able to do things for myself. She blocked me from getting help from my father and others. In her mind, hitting me was helping me.

As the scapegoat and only child, there was so much attention on me, I had no privacy of action or thought. My mother went through my things, read private notes. I never kept a journal. But the attention was never on my true self, who needed to be nurtured and accepted; it was vigilance against whatever might offend them. Neither ever said, "I'm sorry for crossing your personal boundaries." Yet I was expected to apologize for everything -- how I "made" them feel, how I made them look to others. I wasn't just a scapegoat, I was a scapemule, and their approval was my burden. Reciprocity was and is not in their vocabulary.

After my boyfriend committed suicide at the beginning of my freshman year of high school, even my mourning was monitored and controlled. It was an intense time. Never before had I considered suicide, until a few months after his death. It was a rare rainy day, it had been forecast, and I'd forgotten my umbrella. My mom picked me up from school, and she got angry that I'd forgotten. She said with such harsh resentment, as if an undeserving victim, "Why do you keep doing this to your dad and I?"

Something in me snapped. I thought, "I won't do anything to you anymore." It wasn't that I was taking on the message and owning it. It was a rejection. I was done. It was nonsense and hopeless and I was done with it.

My plan when I got home was to write them a suicide note, and either take sleeping pills or use one of my dad's guns, I hadn't decided yet. In my room, I sat down to write the letter, and my mom called me into another room. We talked it out. I don't remember the conversation, she didn't lay into me, she didn't apologize, but somehow, because it was her idea and not mine, we worked out the conflict about the umbrella and it was done. I never told either of them that I'd almost attempted that day.

Everything is about them. And yet they treat me as if I am the spoiled only child who takes and things she deserves all the attention. The attention I got was not the attention I deserved.

No matter what I do, whether I write them a letter or not, to them it will be about how I've wronged and harmed them, how I was a problem from the start, and despite all their efforts, there was nothing they could do. They will question themselves once again, and absolve themselves once again, and although they will be correct that they are not the cause of my choice to end my life, it will never cross their minds that they don't know me and never have. By not telling them why, I am once again, from their perspective, to blame for causing them pain, for not answering to them when they want to know. If I were to write to them, I still would not tell them why, only absolve them, which they're going to do for themselves anyway, and no matter how I would write it, it would still somehow be wrong because they have filters that distort what I say just as much as who I am, what I need, and what I am worth to them. They simply don't hear, and it's a frustration that I still haven't quite overcome.

What freed me today is where I started with this comment: They would not write a letter to me, they have shut me completely out. They have zero consideration for me. They kept me under scrutiny for most of my life, and yet I am the one who spent my life trying to understand them and why they do the things they do. I understand a lot of it. I understand them and their motivations infinitely more than they understand me and mine, because that's what the focus was always supposed to be. I had to figure it out for them because they couldn't and wouldn't, only they don't want to know the answers, and that was another burden I was supposed to carry. They treated me as if I had a sense of entitlement, but that was projection. They have always felt entitled to me, and even though they chose to adopt me, I was to never feel entitled to consideration for anything. All gifts and opportunities were by their grace, as if they were my personal gods, though seemingly cloaked in humility, and the gods were deeply offended.

Narcissism is seriously fucked up. I'm not even allowed to hate them because of how seriously they themselves were abused, which they deny to themselves even as it is so obvious, yet another burden I was made to carry. Inside I say, "They don't deserve a letter," and still something tries to pull on my pity, though it's not motivating me like before. It's a self-negation. It says, "How dare you see them as evil?" It is a black-and-white message I was raised with, they must be good or all bad, and if they are not all bad, then I am wrong for not doing what is best for them, for the "family," even though I've been shunned from it, even though I was never really a part of it. They had a marriage, they adopted a daughter, and they never let me in.

It's just so thoroughly fucked.

So I bring it back again to the point that for today I can understand: They would not write a letter to me.

 

[fantasy_function]

I was pretty gullible as a child and teenager.

I believed what my mother said, and she made sure I did. Which is why this story is particularly shitty.

I asked Mom many times during my childhood if Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny were real. I asked about Santa more than anything, and her response was always that he was real. Other kids stopped believing, but I didn't, and of course they made fun of me for it, but I believed my mom.

The Christmas I was eleven, I received a gift from Mrs. Santa Claus, with a note that it would be the last Christmas Santa would be delivering to me.

Months later, when I was twelve, one of my last baby teeth came out. I had a difficult time keeping secrets, but I didn't tell my parents, and I put it under my pillow.

The next morning, I'm sure you can figure out what was under my pillow.

I found my mother in the bathroom doing her hair. I held out the tooth, full of triumph, and said, "There's no Tooth Fairy!"

The look in her eyes was the one I always associated with the threat that she would kill me.

She said, "Well there's no Santa Claus or Easter Bunny, either!"

I was hurt.

I cried.

I said that she told me they were real.

And she blamed me for believing.

She said it was my fault, because I wanted them to be real.

Psycho much?

i think it pales in comparison 2 the consistent beatings n the overt fucking lack of care or empathy it sounds like ur parents, especially ur ma, demonstrated toward u growing up. but there's smth so intensely hurtful about it anyway. children are really pure in their beliefs. i was raised jewish n knew the santa secret b4 my friends did, but even as a kid i had the decency 2 be sensitive about it n not ruin their fun. it takes a real special kind of asshole adult 2 see a kid's honest, good belief in smth, n just violate that out of ill will.

on top of that, why'd she blame u 4 wanting 2 believe in smth fantastical? what's wrong with wanting the tooth fairy 2 be real? make believe is a part of childhood. it's what kids do. the only reason i can find 2 blame a kid 4 being a kid is sheer fucking spite, or hatefulness, or smth of that nature. ur mother sounds like an inherently mean-spirited person who went out of her way 2 humiliate u. no kid should have 2 grow up like that

 

[GoodPersonEffed]

i think it pales in comparison 2 the consistent beatings n the overt fucking lack of care or empathy it sounds like ur parents, especially ur ma, demonstrated toward u growing up. but there's smth so intensely hurtful about it anyway. children are really pure in their beliefs. i was raised jewish n knew the santa secret b4 my friends did, but even as a kid i had the decency 2 be sensitive about it n not ruin their fun. it takes a real special kind of asshole adult 2 see a kid's honest, good belief in smth, n just violate that out of ill will.

on top of that, why'd she blame u 4 wanting 2 believe in smth fantastical? what's wrong with wanting the tooth fairy 2 be real? make believe is a part of childhood. it's what kids do. the only reason i can find 2 blame a kid 4 being a kid is sheer fucking spite, or hatefulness, or smth of that nature. ur mother sounds like an inherently mean-spirited person who went out of her way 2 humiliate u. no kid should have 2 grow up like that

Thanks for responding and for the empathy.

I focused on Santa Claus in my post, but I had questioned her many times about all of those characters, and she always said they were real. I didn't want them to be real, I wanted the truth. It was she who wasn't ready for me to stop believing, when I'd been ready for years. But I trusted her instead of my gut and instead of reason, and she betrayed me.

Like the beatings, this was yet another nonsenical attack for which I was blamed. But it was a major mind fuck, and that was a different kind of abuse.

 

[fantasy_function]

Thanks for responding and for the empathy.

I focused on Santa Claus in my post, but I had questioned her many times about all of those characters, and she always said they were real. I didn't want them to be real, I wanted the truth. It was she who wasn't ready for me to stop believing, when I'd been ready for years. But I trusted her instead of my gut and instead of reason, and she betrayed me.

Like the beatings, this was yet another nonsenical attack for which I was blamed. But it was a major mind fuck, and that was a different kind of abuse.

totally normal 2 have faith in ur mother over ur own sense of reason when ur younger--if ur parents are controlling, it's easy 2 fall into the belief that they kno more n are wiser than u, despite ur own suspicions or reservations about the things they say.

bizarre that she was willing 2 indulge u 4 a while n then made it out 2 be ur own fault that u had faith in the things that she herself encouraged u 2 believe in. it's such an unnecessary n mean-spirited mindfuck that it's hard 2 wrap my head around that kinda psychology--what would possess a person 2 act like that?

u sound very conscious of how ur parents' behavior n actions affected u. really impressive of u as a person 2 be as aware as u sound--being able 2 kinda detach from ur experience n analyze things 4 what they were isn't easy

 

[GoodPersonEffed]

This thread being bumped reminded me that earlier this week I struggled over considering deleting it.

I thought that if my parents (really, my mother) do go looking for answers and come across this site, this thread would be harsh to read on top of the grieving.

But then I realized, my mother has given herself permission so many times to cross my boundaries, snooping included. If she goes looking for things I didn't say to her directly and finds this thread, it's not my problem that she's not going to like what she reads. I certainly didn't like what I experienced at her hands. She didn't listen then, she kept going with the abuse and boundary violation, when for forty years I said no, asked her to stop, reasoned with her and my father, and was met with rejection, negation, evasion, punishment, shunning, etc.

I communicate exceptionally well. Just one more thing that was rejected, quite vehemently. If I remove this thread to protect my parents, it's just one more time that I change what is working for me because it punishes them, or rather, that causes them earned consequences; there's nothing punitive or disciplinary in this thread at all, it's about ME. There's a subtle and powerful internal message that this is abusing them, a covert manipulation tactic that I had internalized which turns abusers into victims, and vilifies actual victims. Fuck that. It goes against my conditioned comfort zone to leave up this thread, so I'm leaving it up, and still working through it. The struggle to do so validates why I started it in the first place: to remind myself to not do something to serve and comfort them, and to not do something which flies in the face of the common sense that says they've already proven they will never hear me, no matter how I communicate it, and no matter how right it is.

Edit: People have occasionally pointed out to me that intellectualizing is one of my coping skills. I'll take that further and say it was a survival skill, and a damn effective one. I've analyzed my parents since I was a child, in direct contrast to their inability and refusal to analyze their own behaviors and the motivations for them. It is a major element, I think, in how I was able to maintain a sense of self when they constantly tried to undermine it. But it has also been a focus for too long. I think about them way more than I want to or is healthy. I'm still individuating and becoming my own person separate from them. I was called attention-seeking, but that was a projection, the attention was always on them, on soothing and protecting them when I was the child, and children need soothing and protecting. I'm trying to break that by not writing them a letter.

 

[muffin222]

Thank you for your bravery and candor in describing your experiences growing up. I, too, grew up with narcissistic parents and can relate to your pain and your frustration. You're a very eloquent writer as well

 

[GoodPersonEffed]

Struggling again with the internal arguments coming up with reasons to leave them a note -- that I do love them, that nothing is black and white and they aren't 100% bad but did really hurtful and abusive things, to be the bigger person, etc.

I know that these messages are like guilt messages, that they are a kind of affirmation of my boundary because they seek to get me to lower it. The boundary against leaving them a note.

So I answer the messages with more revelations of logic.

I wrote earlier in this thread about the last conversation I had with my father, when I had gone for voluntary hospitalization due to being suicidal, and how he wouldn't help me when my safety was in jeopardy there. My parents are not going to be utterly shocked that I ended my life. They did not reach out to me after the hospitalization. And their shutting me out as they have is common abuser behavior, because I speak the truth and refuse to bury it under the "official" family story that is a lie.

I've been thinking about how I was beaten for lying, and yet they have blatantly lied to their friends and to extended family that I'm still in loving contact with them, when they are the ones who shut me out. It is so fucking ridiculous. I've remembered some other ethical things that I was beaten for that my mother also did, but of course it was totally different when she did it.

Anyhow, just journaling this out. Again. Giving it attention because it wants attention, and speaking truth to it. Dealing with holding opposing views that are accurate -- they did show me love, they did abuse me, I do love them, and I'm fucking frustrated with their gaslighting issues, gaslighting me and themselves, just frustrated with their insanity that I didn't cause, can't fix, can't cure. Dealing with the guilt messages of how much this is going to hurt them, when they do NOT care about how they hurt me physically and emotionally, when they are not willing to do the work of reconciliation and reciprocity, but instead insist I have to carry all the goddamn burdens and do all the work to keep them placated. Fuck that.

______________________

I've noticed at least one pro-lifer on the forum tonight, so this is for the pro-lifers: read up on co-dependency, because you're practicing other-control instead of dealing with your own life and your own problems -- if you want to feel powerful, focus on controlling your own messes and stay out of mine. They're none of your business, and I bet you've got piles of shit in your own lives that need your attention, that is, if you have the balls to face your own issues like I've faced mine. I highly recommend the book Boundaries -- if you're Christian, it's a Christian book; if you're not Christian, ignore the Christian content, the rest of it is still really good. Or go to Al-Anon or Codependents Anonymous -- they'll teach you how to focus on cleaning up and tending to your own yards and quit interfering with others'. Don't like how my yard looks or what I do with it? Tough shit. I'm not even in your neighborhood. You didn't cause my problems, and you have zero power to fix or cure them. Focus on your own problems.

 

[GoodPersonEffed]

I've made so much progress!

More guilt messages came up of course, trying to convince me to do the right thing, the honorable thing, to show compassion. It's getting easier to overcome them.

I imagined what it's going to be like for my parents when they get the news.

They'll be contacted by the State Department or, by proxy, local law enforcement.

My dad is the first one who comes to mind. He was a death investigator. And he hates me. I've thought about this, how his hate has grown over the years. How every time my mother and I would fight and make up, he would take so much longer to warm up to me, even though it had nothing to do with him. I finally realized this is how he functions as an enabler. He's never been one to think for himself, he was a Marine, he was a cop, he was basically a good guy who did what he was told. He hates it when someone goes against authority, even if authority is wrong, in which case, he hates it even more. He can't deal. He needed my mother to be the strong one, to do all the thinking, to be the boss of the house and the family. And the more wrong she was, the more he rejected and hated me. So he is going to have all these emotions he can't deal with, and he is going to be angry and shut off.

My mother will cry. She will have a difficult time processing. She will not have my father to lean on because he can't manage anyone leaning on him for emotional support. And she will have a major Oh Shit to deal with, because when it comes to me, she's been publicly living on lies for years. How can she receive emotional support for grieving when she never admitted that she shunned me for calling out abuse and refusing to back down from the narrative, and for refusing to accept the family narrative that it wasn't that bad, and that she had a right to hit and control me? How the fuck is she going to deal with that?

She has a thing about the house being totally clean when guests are coming, including service technicians. She cares about appearances. What is she going to say to whoever tells them about my death? That will be a big deal for her.

Dad will want to say, "There's nothing we can do" and refuse to identify my body, or have it repatriated. Which would be best. But my mother will want to save face in front of the guests because appearances are important and she will be judged. This will be a critical moment. Dad will get belligerent and angry and feel impotent. Mom will be sitting down, crying, unsure what to do, receiving emotional support from the cops or State Department reps. I can imagine that they will have the most influence. If she uses her famous common sense, she will ask for time to decide. When the guests leave, there will be fights. But whatever Mom decides will rule. And Dad will be angry and feel impotent, and will blow up, and then do what she wants.

Because she is nostalgic, I wouldn't be surprised if she decides it to identify and accept my body, have a funeral, make it about the daughter I once was and have me back at last as someone she can't control, but she can control the narrative. Dad will step up and do the identification. Or perhaps, if photos were brought on the first visit, he will already have.

I step back to when whoever it is comes to the door. If Dad answers alone, he will have the opportunity to deny them and shut the door. But the neighbors will have seen the cars. Mom is going to view this as not being able to go back, and move forward taking on the responsibility of having my body repatriated and having a service, because of how it will look.

She will feel like shit because she can't tell anyone the truth. She will make up a story about why I was in Mexico, and perhaps even how I died. Because if it's suicide, how can she say she didn't know and didn't see it coming if we were so close? She can indeed do that, and she may. But that would make people curious, and she's been blocking curiosity for a long time. Better to make up a story. My parents will have a huge fight over this. Perhaps because of my dad's experience, they will at least admit this truth. If she lies, she'll have to stick with it for the rest of her life, because she cannot see that being vulnerable will garner much better support, that if she admits to having lied, that we were estranged, that true friends will recover from that and be supportive. The judgment and condemnation she imagines from others is much harsher than how people would really be. Through lying and creating false fronts, she may have approval, but she has denied herself the closeness she is going to need.

I have never understood people who want to be liked for how they want people to see them, and not for who they really are.

Throughout all of this, feeling inept and without any control over events, my Dad will stuff, withdraw, blow up, withdraw, and do all of his distancing shtick. He deeply hates lying, and he may blow up and say no more. Again, that would be wise. Admit we were estranged, admit I died, and move on. Otherwise, if Mom decides she wants the facade and the funeral, he will be closed off and hateful for a very long time, and at last he will give in, because that is what he almost always does. Or he may finally say he's done and leave.

If he gives in to Mom's facade plan, he's going to be closed off and angry, he doesn't have close friends, Mom is the one with whom most people communicate. He's fun, and helpful when someone is in need, but it's all surface with him. He can't be around others outside of the family for more than a couple of hours at a time, then he gets antsy and finds a reason to leave. So others will notice something isn't right, and Mom will make excuses for him. As all of this as it unfolds, others will notice that something isn't right, and they won't be able to put their fingers on it, and they will make up reasons for what they don't understand.

However, my dad has had well-managed but serious health problems for a long time. For all I know, he may not even be in good health anymore. He may die. He may have a heart attack or a stroke when he receives the news, or when sees the photos of my body, or after the funeral when he's at the point that he can no longer take the piled-up things he can't handle and never could. And Mom at one point had breast cancer and recovered. Perhaps it didn't stay in remission, perhaps she has other health issues now. They're in their late Seventies, and a lot can have happened over the past seven to eight years.

What difference would a letter make in all of this? My dad would get angry at the intrusion of my voice. My mom would read my advice to leave my body, to not manage the estate, to not, for fuck's sake, publish an obituary. But she has to cling to the facade. Otherwise, what will the neighbors think? My advice would not offer them an easy way out. My advice would be sensible, but sensible does not rule with them.

This just sucks. For the most part, they would go through all of this whether I died accidentally or by suicide. I cannot hold on, but if I were to do it for them, to wait until they died so that they didn't have to suffer, which could conceivably take another 10 to 15 years, for what purpose? They shunned me. When they die, I am certain they will leave everything to my cousin. I have been shut out. I would not have any responsibilities for managing their estate. I say this to myself: They. shut. me. out.

I have no one to manage my estate. No one to give power of attorney for the disposal of my remains. It is not my choice that this falls on my parents. I am not choosing to invade their lives. I have no power over this and it sucks. That's what it comes down to. I want to maintain no contact not only in life but even after death. If they die, they can maintain it because they have support. If I die, I do not have support, and things about me reenter their lives. I will be dead. I will not care. But I am alive now, and so I care about these scenarios. And even if we were in contact, I would not share with them the reasons for my choice, they would not understand, and so I would still have no support, and only feel worse about how much my death would hurt them. Which makes me realize, it's not my death that will hurt them, it is the huge emotional inconveniences they will experience because of their refusal to take responsibility for their past actions, which led to the choices to shut me out and to lie.

I don't know how to view this. I am not one for revenge or retribution. I just want to be totally separate from them, and even though I will be dead, I am denied that unless it is their choice.

This is another hump I need to get over: how do I get past giving fucks about what they will experience when they give no fucks about what I experienced growing up, nor what I experienced when they shunned me? I know it's a result of having been abused, I know this is co-dependency and enmeshment, I know I was conditioned to focus on them and how they will be hurt. I need an aha moment. I need a perspective that gets me untangled from this. Yet I don't think a pendulum swing is the answer. Just because they give no fucks does not mean it is healthy or desirable, in fact it is not. Giving no fucks in return is a continuation of their cycles of generational abuse. Perhaps it is the discomfort I feel that shows I am a good and healthy and ethical person. Of course this sucks.

 

[HadEnough1974]

Lately I've been having issues with pitying my parents, that is, feeling badly for how they'll react to my ctb. It's akin to the slot machine of hope - returning even though there's never a jackpot, just little payouts that don't come close to the investment. No, I have no plans to reinstate contact for any reason, not even to say goodbye when the time comes. But they're still getting too much of my focus and attention, so I gotta work some shit out.

It's been a while since I've done a thread to work through ctb details. This one is to put in front of me all the reasons why worrying about my parents instead of myself is unjustified, and to remind myself to not write them a note, as they have filters that cause them to not hear me, and whatever instructions I leave, they'll do wtf they want anyway. They likely will not accept my body or responsibility for managing my estate, and that's my preference, but if I tell them that, they'll find reasons to do the opposite of what I want. Any instructions I would leave would be of equal benefit to me and to them, but if I speak reasonably, they'll find excuses to be unreasonable.

I suspect most folks who experienced abuse understand that recovery is a lifelong process. Things may feel settled for years, then rise back up for more attention. That's what I'm experiencing now. So I'm going to write things out that help me maintain my reason rather than fall back into the old traps of doing things to make them happy and make life easier for them.

Comments are welcome, including similar experiences. However, saying "this is what you have to do" for any reason, even with altruistic intentions, is not welcome. I'm already doing what I have to do. I know some folks just talk that way, but I'll take it as controlling even if that's not the intention, and this thread is about breaking control over me.

______________________________

My mother beat me with wooden objects from before the age of three until seventeen. I've conservatively calculated over 100 beatings. They were ritualistic in how they played out. They left bruises under my clothes.

Most of the beatings were because I argued with her illogic. Whenever I wanted something, or wanted to do something outside of the home, the first answer was most often No. I'd ask why. The reasons didn't make sense. I would question her, and that seems to have triggered a narcissistic wound, which led to narcissistic rages. She was not a narcissist, but she had narcissistic traits, was beyond over-protective, and was controlling throughout my life, though she significantly eased up in my adulthood. The rages led to escalating arguments, which resulted in beatings, me crying afterward in my room for about ten minutes, then her coming in and asking, "Now, we friends?" The answer had better be yes.

There were always threats: to take away favorite toys, to make me quit favorite activities, to kick me out of the house (the first time, I was three), and once when I was seven to give me back up for adoption.

At sixteen, I called her bluff when she threatened to kick me out and I left. For two years, I was regularly being kicked out or running away from home. (I even dropped out of junior year twice and so graduated a year late. This was the mid- to late-eighties; running away and dropping out were still socially shocking, at least in the white middle class.)

My dad was in law enforcement. He agreed with the punitive verbal and physical abuse. My mother was the alpha. He protected a whole city, but not me.

When I was sixteen, I visited the school district psychologist on one of his school visits. I wanted to run away from home, and when I described the verbal and physical abuse and the current threats, he agreed that it was a domestic violence situation and that my best option was to leave. Like I said, it was the Eighties. Of course, my mom always threatened to kill me if I ever reported her to the police, but I doubt that I would have gotten any genuine help.

After that session, I ran away from home and dropped out of school. During those months, I had lunch once with my dad. After a couple months, I was living with a friend my parents didn't know, but her parents somehow got my parents' contact information. Also, I can't recall how I found out, but I learned my parents had joined Toughlove, and the leaders of the group wanted contact with me. I recall my response being hell no.

Toughlove is no longer popular in the US, but it's still around, and is more popular in some other countries. It's a support group for parents with out-of-control, "incorrigible" teenagers. Parents are encouraged to take back power by setting limits, and if the child doesn't comply, such as bringing drugs in the house or coming home late, they are not allowed in (I never did any of those things. What I did was argue and stand up for myself, and sometimes lie because that's often the only way I could do things I wanted to do. When I ran away, I shoplifted once, and I did some drugs, which I'd never even been offered when I lived at home. Basically though, my rebellion was against control). Often, if a child wants to return home, they must stay with other Toughlove parents until negotiations are worked out, usually in favor of the parents.

When my friend's parents contacted mine, a plan was worked out behind my back. While the parents were at work, two cops showed up at the door (I later found out it was supposed to happen when they were home). My friend answered the door, and while she lied that I wasn't there, I hopped the fence and ran. I was found several blocks away, and taken to the police station, where I was questioned by one of my dad's friends I had known when I was very little. I explained to him that I had run away because of Mom's abuse.

My parents did not answer the phone, so I was taken to juvenile detention, where I was strip-searched. The social worker kept telling me for three hours that I had committed a status offense, not a crime, and did not belong there, but my parents still didn't answer, so I had to stay a night in solitary and eat gross food. The next day, I was taken home by a social worker. My parents weren't home. The social worker told me that her responsibility ended there, so of course I took off. I went to a different friend's, but her family wouldn't take me in, and I had run out of options, so I called the Toughlove leaders, and they came and got me. The point of the whole thing was to teach me a lesson, but it made me angry, and much of it was mishandled and against the plan, so it was a fiasco, not a learning experience.

I stayed with the Toughlove leaders for two or three weeks, which was not the norm, but there were no other parents available, just the leaders. During that time, I told them my story. We got along really well. After a week, we had a first meeting with my parents in which my mom started to lose her shit because of the look on my face; I was actually being guarded and was afraid, I wasn't giving any attitude. I don't recall how many meetings we had, but a non-violent plan was worked out, which included that any time an argument escalated, anyone could call a time-out for ten minutes, then resume communicating, repeat as needed.

As soon as I returned home, my parents dropped the group because I was getting support. My mother agreed that we would keep all the rules and agreements. Two weeks later, I got caught in a lie. We argued. It escalated. I called a time-out because escalations always ended in beatings. She said no. I said it was a rule. She said that since I had broken a rule, all the Toughlove rules were off the table. I was beaten, and the running away and being kicked out continued.

Also when I was sixteen, I think before the first time I ran away, my parents took me to a child psychologist. I told him about the abuse at our first session. I felt heard and I really liked him. I couldn't wait to work with him. He told me he wanted to do family sessions, I was all for it. He had a separate meeting with my parents. As we left, my mother said, "We're not going to change, you are." I was not allowed to return to therapy.

Never was I allowed to have someone on my side.

A related aside: Some months after juvie, I had to go back there for a meeting, and my dad acted as the representative parent. I was given several hours of social service. I spoke up to the adjudicator. I said that I had committed a status offense, not a crime. My dad snapped at me to be quiet. That's his thing, not just with me - never stand up to authority, never argue, never defend yourself, and never question.

So, these are examples of how my parents didn't change. Over the years, I would bring up the abuse. My dad would get angry and say it wasn't that bad and to get over it. My mom would get defensive and yell. Seven years ago, I discovered the source of long-term physical problems, and the injury could have been directly caused by the beatings as I have no other recollection of violent assault, and I also discovered PTSD was kicking my ass. So I wrote to my father and asked that my parents take responsibility for the abuse and help to support me. I was sent a very brief "We can't help you with your finances," and the no contact began. Four years later, I went to the slot machine. I made contact, said I had forgiven, and tried to renew our relationship. My mother wrote back on behalf of her, my father and their pets. She said they were tired of the "blame games," wished me well, and said goodbye. Till the end, they refuse to change.

No contact keeps me relatively safe from my mother's controlling interference, but not completely, she did do something straight-up crazy a couple years later after the pets insisted she tell me goodbye. Right now I'm just re-remembering the Toughlove incidents for the first time in years, and putting together how my parents truly do not change, and how they are more concerned for themselves than for me. The next post will probably develop that.

I have no words, I'm just so sorry that you went through this.

 

[Brackenshire]

Maybe its time to put yourself first and do whats best for you...

 

[Lostandfound7]

Hey boo...Ur life reads like a horribly wicked movie..makes Mommie Dearest look like Claire Huxtable..smdh

Have u ever thought of exposing ur "real" relationship with ur parents to ur family on FB??

 

[GoodPersonEffed]

Thanks, for the support, y'all. I actually figured it out tonight!

What's been hanging over me is that as next of kin they had power and control -- over my body, over my obituary, and being able to retell the story of my life in a way that makes them look good. THAT'S what's been bothering me!

Fuck them! What I need is not to write a suicide letter, not to soothe them or convince them, but a fuck you for good letter and a threat that will ensure they don't touch me or publish an obituary. It is AWESOME. It gives no hint that I'm about to ctb, it's set up that, if I die in the next 15 years and an obit is published, all the documentation will posthumously go out to family and friends, and they have no way of knowing which ones. To completely cover their asses, they would have to reach out to people they want nothing to do with. How I did it is so evil genius, which is so unlike me!

All their bullshit is laid out, even my Dad's for the first time ever, called him out on being an enabler, and everything is dumped back onto them for good. There is a little love, there is a lot of cussing, there is acknowledgememt that it sucks, and there is total closure for me. I'm the one who gets to close the door. I slammed it, bolted it, and soldered the locks. Even if I choose to live, it is fucking DONE. I am totally free of them!!!!! Even in death! No more fucks given, just as they give none for me!

If I hadn't processed here and gotten support, I don't know that I would have ever reached this point. Whew! I've been needing this since I was a toddler!

@Brackenshire, I am totally doing what's best for me, finally! All these decades, it's been so hard. That wasn't allowed! But now, fuck that!!!!

@Lostandfound7, I remember when that movie first aired on TV when I was a kid. My mom was so pissed at the daughter for going public with family secrets! My mom isn't pure narcissist like Joan Crawford, but she would have beaten me with a wire hanger. I can't even watch that movie now, it makes me sick. Thanks for your support and for being an inspiration of take-no-shit powerful badassness. I'm a badass too, but not in all the same ways you are. I used to feel a little uncomfortable with some of it, now I fucking get it.

 

[GoodPersonEffed]

If anyone is getting tired of seeing this thread come up, by all means, please ignore it!

Like I said, it's a journal. Support is nice but not required. I'm really working some stuff out here. It's like years' worth of therapy.


I had another wow moment, stemming from things I figured out in my last two posts.

My parents always tried to make me be who they wanted me to be. Until I could do that (and indeed I never could), it wasn't so much a family but a marriage with a child in the house. And the child was the enemy to my mother and to the marriage. Eventually, my dad considered me the enemy as well.

When they shut me out, it was because they gave up that I would never buy their narrative, and they rejected any responsibility for their actions, for any resulting problems, and for me.

But then they created a fake GPE who says and does what they want. The only thing she doesn't do is come visit or send photos -- I wonder how long they were able to keep up the facade. It's been a few years, someone might have called them on it by now. Then they would have had to come up with a new story, but I guarantee it wouldn't be anything like the truth.

All of my life, it's been my responsibility to protect them. That's what a scapegoat does -- it carries the burdens of others' sins to make them feel better and to be free of responsibilities or consequences.

I was raised in a family that does not accept what is. I'm sure their families did the same. I myself would only be accepted if I was something other than myself, and accepted the false narratives. It was an environment of gaslighting, and it's very difficult to come out of that, because I had to come out alone, no one had any interest in following me or connecting with reality.

What I'm shaking off in this journal is the gaslit story that I have to take responsibility for my parents' feelings, well-being, safety, and the maintenance of their illusions. If I won't do it, fake GPE will do it for them.

But shit's about to get real when I die. And I was "supposed to" clean up my messes before I go. Cleaning up messes is a big deal for them. But I simply can't clean this up. There's nothing of mine to take responsibility for or I would, not because they made me, but because I learned to do that for my own benefit in later years, as a result of my efforts to heal. It emerged because of that, when before, I was living in rebellion to them, which is still a hyperfocus on them.

I can't change next of kin laws.

I can't change that they made a fake GPE, and the actual GPE I am is going to do something for myself, that I have every right to do, and that will directly contradict their fake narrative.

Then they're gonna make up some fake news!

I was so worried about the obituary because I don't want others to know who may be hurt by the knowledge, or for whom it's just none of their damn business. I cut so many toxic people out of my life, and they, too, like my parents, will take the news in ways that are about them, and for some, I really don't want my suicide to have that kind of impact. As I write this, I recognize it's just taking more responsibility for others' well-being. It's a continuation of my role as scapegoat. I'm sick of being sacrificed for others' comfort and freedom from reality.

So Mom and Dad are going to have some problems, not just how to manage their lies when reality hits, but they will mourn, whatever that means for them. And it's not even the real me they're going to mourn! They'll mourn in their gaslit world, and I can't penetrate it. I never was able to.

With every post here, I'm getting freer from that seriously fucked-up world. Shades of Mommie Dearest indeed.

Y'all, I'm smart. I see this stuff. I've read your comments and I know you see it, and it sometimes feels weird! It may take awhile to sink in, and I see that when I comment to other people here and irl, that there's some cognitive dissonance and rejection at first. I try to help others get out of this stuff, too. And with every so many steps of progress, I have to stop and pull myself out some more. It's one thing to see it from the outside, which really helps, but it's hard to disconnect from my own experience of it and emerge into reality, especially when that was reality for so long. I always knew it was fucked up, even when I was very little, but when one spends a lifetime immersed in insanity, some of that shit sticks. It feels so good every time I get more free. And of course when I do, something that's still sticking tries to tug me back. I'm getting stronger and stronger, but it's a damn struggle. I've had to fight so hard for my liberation. Interesting that planning suicide has gotten me the freest. But maybe not; the whole point of my suicide is to get free anyway.

 

[Brackenshire]

Live for yourself GPE

 

[GoodPersonEffed]

Live for yourself GPE

Don't be bossy!

 

[Brackenshire]

They are not paying rent for the space in yr brain they are occupying..you matter..at this point you first..if they wanna interact okay but on yr terms..it not bye bye
Shoot me hahahaha

Don't be bossy!

Shoot me hahahaha
Dang it technology

 

[GoodPersonEffed]

Shoot me hahahaha

This isn't the Partners Megathread!

 

[Brackenshire]

Oops..wrong thread

 

[GoodPersonEffed]

It's been about four weeks since I posted in this journal. Definitely making progress.

Today three messages came up to work through.

All of these messages try to manipulate my Stoic and secular Buddhist beliefs about responsibility to others and acting in integrity, and say that I have responsibilities to my parents: to write them a note and tell them my suicide had nothing to do with them, which is true; to absolve them of responsibility for identifying or claiming my body; and to show compassion for them as fellow humans and say, "Well, you fucked up by lying to everyone, all I can offer you is wisdom for how to deal with the mess."

The first message said there's a possibility that after I die, I will have to witness their suffering and suffer as well because I didn't act from my integrity. It's a shaming message that says I'm not good enough, that I'm not as good as I think I am, and just who do I think I am anyway? It's also a fear-based rhetorical fallacy to convince me to act a certain way, and it's the same kind of fallacy that kept me in the Christian faith after I'd already logically come to the conclusion that it was bull -- the fear that, just in case I was wrong, I was risking hell by not forcing myself to believe and staying involved in (and controlled by) the church. So this tells me there's an element of control here. Twisting my beliefs about integrity also indicates control because manipulation is about control and trying to unduly influence/coerce compliance. It's trying to twist and improperly use my self-respect, so I have to return to this tool, which reminds me to stick to my values and needs: don't compromise them to be liked or to be approved of (in this case, approved by some other-worldly judge), and stand up for my best interests. My best interests are to maintain no contact and to not own their shit but let them own it, which leads to the next assault on my boundary against writing them a suicide note.

The second message is a guilt message that's solely about my integrity and my supposed responsibilities to my parents, the three things I would write in a note as listed above. It tells me to take the higher road, and be responsible to them even though they don't act on their responsibilities to me. But it is not my choice and is outside of my control that there are next of kin laws. My parents have the legal right to deny all next of kin responsibilities, and in fact already have historically (and strongly/abusively) denied all responsibilities to me: one physically assaulted me, one did not protect me from the physical assaults; both denied responsibility for their actions and took no ownership nor made amends, in fact outright rejected opportunities for both; kicked me out of the shelter of the house as a minor for being non-compliant to abusive control; kicked me out of the social shelter of the family for demanding they take ownership of their actions and requesting they make amends; one repeatedly refused to help me when I was vulnerable, under imminent threat, and needed protection he had the power to provide; both have made a false version of me to present to the world as if they have met and continue to meet all responsibilities to me. The scapegoat indeed makes the sinner appear spotless to themselves and to the world. The main point is that they firmly shut the door on all responsibilities to me. It is not an issue here of my having responsibilities to them, but of being coerced to be co-dependent and take responsibility for the problems they will experience that I didn't directly cause, can't control, and can't cure. It is coercion to try to get me to agree to take responsibility for keeping them unburdened and spotless. They already do that for themselves in their own ways, and there's no reason to believe they won't continue to. They've got this.

The last message, also a guilt message, says that my final bit of reasoning above is not really reasoning, but that I'm acting out of revenge. That's another twist. When I feel pushed like I am indeed being pushed by all these messages, it seems that it always gets twisted that my rejection of such pushes is vengeful and harming. I have inside a response to that which says, "I don't want to harm them," and then the boundaries start to come down, my will and resolve weakened, co-dependency trying to climb back in the driver's seat even though I've repeatedly kicked it out of the car -- my car. Co-dependency seems to think it's the family car, and that tells me I've got some more shit to work out, because my life is not the family car, it's my car. They shut every door of the family car on me, as well as the house, so what the hell are they and their wants still doing anywhere near the steering wheel of my own autonomous life that they've made it abundantly clear they want nothing to do with?

On a side note, something I've been working through in other threads is that my values are exactly the ones they purportedly wanted to instill in me, such as responsibility to community. After a hurricane damaged my friend's parents' house, I let them stay in my condo for two weeks and I stayed with my parents. My mother got increasingly shitty about it, as if it were some great imposition in their five-bedroom house, while I paid my share of groceries. She also would never allow my father to help me, do favors for me, loan me things. If she ever did a favor for me, it was to make things easier for her, or to somehow please her; it was never about me, yet everything I did for her, I always had laser focus on how it would perfectly serve and/or please her. She had me steal something from my grade school for her, and my dad steal office supplies for her from his employer, the city PD, yet when I stole something, it was one of the two times she convinced him to "step up" and beat me. I just feel like my parents display hatred toward me for walking and talking the values and virtues of honesty and responsibility that they demanded of me and do not themselves practice. They may hate me because I bring to light their lack and, therefore, their shame. Far easier to flagellate me than themselves, when neither is necessary! And maybe that's what some of that third guilt message is about (and, really, all of them): someone must be flagellated. If not them, then me for not flagellating, and twisting my actions and intentions to make it seem as if I am flagellating them with revenge -- the intention of that is to manipulate me to rebel and end up doing what is wanted, which is (and always has been) to carry their burdens and make them spotless, or myself be burdened and filthily spotted -- because I am vengeful, irresponsible, a bad daughter, and boy will I pay for it when I die, and get the punishment of the hell of watching them suffer because I'm so self-centered and irresponsible!

@Lostandfound7, you asked before why I don't out them. I've thought a lot about that. Thank you for making me think. They didn't really screw me over, because I have no relationship with any of those people. They didn't take anything away. Those folks are solely my parents' support system, and because I don't participate in or nurture those relationships, they had something to use with a low chance (they would think) of risk. But they took big risks by lying, as I still have the right to approach any of these people and have them as part of my own support system. I don't want any of those people, though, so it becomes a punitive act for me to out my parents. They are already screwing themselves. They have to keep up the effort of maintaining the facade with every day that passes and I don't come visit, and there are no updated pictures of me. They have created their own burdens, suffering, and precipice. When my mom posted my photo and put words in my mouth, I identified her weaknesses and responded appropriately, and I didn't have to follow through on a single threat. I think it's an appropriate response to let them suffer the consequences of their actions without having to go into revenge mode. If those other relationships had any value to me, then I would have cause for action, otherwise I'm being oppressive and trying to remove their foundations because they took mine -- but they weren't real or reliable foundations, were they? No contact was a favor, not a punishment. They'll get theirs, either when I die, or they're in dire need and their wonderful, living daughter doesn't show up. Sooner or later they'll get caught out, and I take neither pleasure for that nor pity, though pity keeps pushing me to lower my boundaries and ease their burdens. Revenge and pleasure is the other side of the pendulum swing from being oppressed and abused, and then I take on another false burden as judge and executioner. In the middle, I recognize, "They've got this. All of this." I can let all burdens go and keep being free and pursing freedom when I still find chains and uninvited car passengers. It would feel really fucking good to out them and feel my power, and I could say it's justified, but they have shown me by their actions how weak they are and how much power I have; I don't have to wield it against them to know it and experience it. And that's a good way to wrap up this post, by relating it to all of the above fear and guilt messages: when I look back at my life, I can see the ways in which I didn't harm or oppress them, even though I could have; I indeed have taken the higher road; I respect myself; I did little to no harm; I have had power, and I use it, I don't punish with it. I can honestly say to myself: "Well done. You managed some heavy shit with awareness, integrity, and inner power and strength. You had self-control, and not because of a pendulum swing that rebelled against others' control, but because it is the good in you that arose, and you invited and encouraged it. You didn't always make good choices, but that was the finest one, and once it matured, your choices reflected your maturity and powerful self-control in the face of tyranny." There is likely no heaven, but that recognition is my heaven, my reward.

 

[Lostandfound7]

@Lostandfound7, you asked before why I don't out them. I've thought a lot about that. Thank you for making me think. They didn't really screw me over, because I have no relationship with any of those people. They didn't take anything away. Those folks are solely my parents' support system, and because I don't participate in or nurture those relationships, they had something to use with a low chance (they would think) of risk. But they took big risks by lying, as I still have the right to approach any of these people and have them as part of my own support system. I don't want any of those people, though, so it becomes a punitive act for me to out my parents. They are already screwing themselves. They have to keep up the effort of maintaining the facade with every day that passes and I don't come visit, and there are no updated pictures of me. They have created their own burdens, suffering, and precipice. When my mom posted my photo and put words in my mouth, I identified her weaknesses and responded appropriately, and I didn't have to follow through on a single threat. I think it's an appropriate response to let them suffer the consequences of their actions without having to go into revenge mode. If those other relationships had any value to me, then I would have cause for action, otherwise I'm being oppressive and trying to remove their foundations because they took mine -- but they weren't real or reliable foundations, were they? No contact was a favor, not a punishment. They'll get theirs, either when I die, or they're in dire need and their wonderful, living daughter doesn't show up. Sooner or later they'll get caught out, and I take neither pleasure for that nor pity, though pity keeps pushing me to lower my boundaries and ease their burdens. Revenge and pleasure is the other side of the pendulum swing from being oppressed and abused, and then I take on another false burden as judge and executioner. In the middle, I recognize, "They've got this. All of this." I can let all burdens go and keep being free and pursing freedom when I still find chains and uninvited car passengers. It would feel really fucking good to out them and feel my power, and I could say it's justified, but they have shown me by their actions how weak they are and how much power I have; I don't have to wield it against them to know it and experience it. And that's a good way to wrap up this post, by relating it to all of the above fear and guilt messages: when I look back at my life, I can see the ways in which I didn't harm or oppress them, even though I could have; I indeed have taken the higher road; I respect myself; I did little to no harm; I have had power, and I use it, I don't punish with it. I can honestly say to myself: "Well done. You managed some heavy shit with awareness, integrity, and inner power and strength. You had self-control, and not because of a pendulum swing that rebelled against others' control, but because it is the good in you that arose, and you invited and encouraged it. You didn't always make good choices, but that was the finest one, and once it matured, your choices reflected your maturity and powerful self-control in the face of tyranny." There is likely no heaven, but that recognition is my heaven, my reward.

I totally understand, babe..My suggestion was just the vindictive part of me..lol..But ur reasoning makes absolute sense...Ur parents make me sick..(Tried to find the most decent, respectful way of communicating my disdain for them)..

U got this, my Sistah Souljah..♡

 

[Brackenshire]

Does the country you live in require that they or someone be notified ? If not prepay for a service or cremation..donate possessions to something..i dont think you are obligated to let them know..they dont seem obligated to you..just my thought, that and a nickel won't get you anything

 

[GoodPersonEffed]

I totally understand, babe..My suggestion was just the vindictive part of me..lol..But ur reasoning makes absolute sense...Ur parents make me sick..(Tried to find the most decent, respectful way of communicating my disdain for them)..

U got this, my Sistah Souljah..♡

One who roams through the universe will never weary of the truth; it is the false things that will bring on disgust. - Seneca

I liked your suggestion. I like that you fight. I fight, too. As I've said before, anger is a helper, it identifies when boundaries have been crossed. Vindictiveness and revenge, I think, are responses of anger when it feels it must become a weapon as a tool, and it and those responses are empowered, I think, by blame, which discharges discomfort, fear, uncertainty, and helplessness. They seek violence and oppression in response to violence and oppression, and so a sense of powerlessness turns into toxic power: "I have power, and I want power." In this situation, the toxicity stops with me.

I have compassion and understanding for vindictiveness and revenge. Sometimes the messages they seek to send get through: "You hurt me in an unjust way. Ima smack you back since you can't hear but you can feel." If one finds, however, that they have not served and one feels they have caused ineffective harm (because they may decide, to quote Seneca again, that it is more wretched to harm than to be harmed), then instead of self-condemnation, -hatred, and -negation, they can use awareness as a tool for growth, healing, and moving forward when they are ready, when they have a more solid sense of self-power, when they stand tall and strong and aren't knocked off balance by the hits from other fellow humans who act in ignorance, too. In the end, we are all human. We find the best tools we can to discharge our discomfort, uncertainty, and helplessness, and when we have the foundations to support true strength and its growth, what a boon. Sometimes we get bruised and scarred, and sometimes we bruise and scar others; such is life. It's what we do with it once it's done that matters. We can learn from everything, and while growth and new awareness may be painful, there is a distinct difference between hurt and genuine harm.

I'm not preaching at you, friend. This is my way of solidifying what I learn, by saying it to others, by teaching myself while teaching. But I don't expect or demand you take the lessons. You inspired me to see them more clearly for myself, and you gave me power in your honesty, authenticity, and acceptance of and respect for me. I thank you, and I offer the same in return.

I respect your fire. I have it, too. I respect your fight. I have it, too. I respect your coming to the defense of others with shields and swords of truth and justice. I do that, too. I respect the vindictive part of you, she is strong. She is disgusted by false things, and I don't think you want to destroy others, but what is disgusting and false. If that is true, I am the same. I am imperfect, but I respect and honor myself, and I offer that to and share it with you. You have much power. I have that, too. You have a lot of light and goodness. I have that, too. I wish the vindictive part of you, and the soft and giving parts of you, and your whole self, nothing but the best. I wish for your well-being and peace. We each have abundant amounts of love, strength, power, virtue, and desire for justice and rightness, and that makes me glad to know you, and feel good that I do. I send you hearts and hugs and all good things right back. Thank you for your support and fighting on my behalf. I didn't get that from my family, but I love that I got it from you.

Does the country you live in require that they or someone be notified ? If not prepay for a service or cremation..donate possessions to something..i dont think you are obligated to let them know..they dont seem obligated to you..just my thought, that and a nickel won't get you anything

I've researched it, and the Department of State will be notified, which will notify them. There's no way around it.

No, I am not obligated to let them know, and it's clear they have discharged all obligations to me. I'm working on letting them own that. In the book Boundaries, there's a story about parents who did everything for their son so that he had no problems, which depleted their resources. The therapist said, "Would you like for him to have some problems?" The point was that he would never be motivated to take responsibility for himself if he didn't have to own and deal with his problems. He needed the consequences. I'm working on looking at this situation from this perspective, and reminding myself to not be codependent by recognizing, again and again, that I did not cause their problems, I can't cure them, and I can't control my parents or the outcomes of their actions. Unfortunately, if they are to grow, they need the consequences, and if they choose not to grow and learn from them, I have no control over that, either; they are autonomous adults, free to fuck up, to stay fucked up, or to choose to grow. I am an autonomous adult, and I am free to own only what is mine, and free to unburden myself from what is theirs.

They will not be surprised that I suicided. They are already prepared. They already have defenses up and already use them. They do not seek my comfort or wisdom, and do not know how to receive them and use them. The best I can do is to love them from afar and wish them the best on their journeys. I am not doing this to them, and they will have to figure out for themselves what they are and are not responsible for, what they have done to themselves, and to work it out. I didn't cause all this to suck for them. Their own histories and fallibilities did that. I have compassion for that and for them. I can absolutely do nothing more. There is relief in that. Contemplating and planning suicide is setting me free in more ways than I could have expected.

Thank you for your input. Thank you for inspiring me to work through more, and helping me to solidify what I know is right, even though it's uncomfortable. It's strengthening my integrity: to choose courage over comfort; to do chose what's right over what's easy (and codependency/fixing has been conditioned to be easy); and to practice my values and virtues and not just profess them (allowing them autonomy and ownership of their actions and the consequences is a hard-won value). This is about self-respect, and not giving up my convictions and what I've worked to learn in order to be liked, loved, or valued, especially by those who have proven unwilling to do so, much as I have always deserved it. I accept them as they are, and I frickin like, love, value, respect, and accept myself. That's a pretty good ending. Too bad they just don't get it, and never have. That will always hurt, but what I've gained in spite of it is downright incredible. I have more balance now. I am stronger. I am more content and amazed at what I see in myself that keeps coming more and more into light. With every one of these fires I pass through in this journal, I am stronger and more refined, burnished rather than scarred. I don't have anything to pour all this great stuff into other than myself, but also, here on the forum, while I am still alive, to those who appreciate and choose to use it as serves them best. I am an extrovert, I am social, I am not an introvert who is most grounded by pouring things into and connecting with myself (an imperfect understanding, I don't mean to offend, I am trying to express that I see value in that and have admiration and respect for it, just as many introverts feel and think about extroverts). I have developed into somewhat of an ambivert -- I have learned to pour into and connect with myself, but I still need and love pouring the best I have into and connecting with others who want it so that I, too, am replenished and have more power and resources. I am a connector and a communicator. It is how I am. It is not always satisfied, but when it is, it's damn satisfying.

Seneca again: It is with life as with a play: what matters is not how long it is, but how good...Leave off where you choose; just be sure to give it a good ending.

This is my good ending, here in my life and in connections with others on the forum. It is the best I can do -- as they say in France, so as never to overpraise: pas mal (not bad).

I am pretty satisfied in spite of all the loss and everything put upon me that I don't deserve. Fortune has put quite a hole in my boat, and I need to swim away from it to what I can only hope is freedom. I don't think many people ever reach the point of satisfaction. The world would be much better if we all could be satisfied with, deeply recognize, appreciate and value what we have, instead of constantly seeking more. I am more full than I thought I was. I am enjoying it, and it's a fine ending, even if those I loved the most aren't aware of that, which causes some measure of hurt to the loving, pouring, connecting extrovert in me, and yet it replenishes and strengthens me, too, in no longer needing those who do not give or satisfy anyway.