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(Serious) utenti who grew up in abusive (physical, emotional, sexual, etc.) households, what is your story?

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(Serious) Redditors who grew up in abusive (physical, emotional, sexual, etc.) households, what is your story?

Ed ecco le risposte:

My dad is an emotionally and physically abusive piece of shit. I’ve seen him beating my mom multiple times. They finally divorced when I was 8. My mom went back to school and got her nursing degree, and we were better off than we ever were with my dad in the picture. I’m the first person in my family to graduate with a bachelor’s degree (2 of them), and I went on to get 2 masters degrees. Now I work in Child Protective Services, and I try to keep assholes like my dad from beating their kids and wives.

Was fucked by my uncles and step grandpa on my father’s side. My dad gave up his custody of me cause he couldn’t keep me safe. I’m doing good now. Haven’t seen him since I was 8 years old am 35 now.

My mum was a psycho, bipolar and narcissistic. Violent and aggressive. She hurt me for many years physically but specially mentally, she made afraid of her, I grew up thinking I was a bad girl and she was hurting because of me. Lot of traumatizing experiences (could write a book).

I had to end our relationship back in 2006 to save my life. I’m a broken soul today. I’m successful and built myself up to a good person with a real honesty and clarity about all the shit I have in my mind now. But I’m broken. I have severe anxiety, few OCD and ED and don’t seem to ever feel in peace.

I’m in therapy now and trying my best to heal. I’ve never looked back to her. She put her own shit onto me and it’s not fair. I literally saved my life when I left her behind.

Parents are not always the best humans we can keep around unfortunately.

I was emotionally neglected more than abused.

I pretty much keep it under wraps. The few people I’ve told have been “sympathetic” but you can see in their eyes they are thinking that it doesn’t sound that bad.

But always being the one left out, the one not thought of, the one forgotten. Always being the one whose wrong in every argument, never once being a priority… it fucks with the mind.

I don’t blame people for not getting why it was so bad. Any one incident isn’t that big a deal. It’s not that big a deal that everyone made an effort to go to my brothers soccer game but ignored my karate test to move up in rank. It’s not that big a deal that my twin brother got what he wanted for his birthday and I got a shirt I’d never wear because no one bothered to ask for a list. It’s not that big a deal that my dad would never accept that I might know what I’m talking about.

But living it every single day was hell. The cumulative effect was hell.

When I was a teenager my mum became suicidal. We would get picked up after school to my dad nervously explaining that he found her with her wrists cut or that she had been trying to hang herself, every few months for years. We waited on her hand and foot more or less as she claimed to have chronic fatigue.

She told us she had gotten better. Randomly one night after my mum went to “visit a friend” I get a phone call. It’s my mum. She tells me in this weird voice that she loves me so so much. I ask where she is and she says she isn’t going to tell me that but that she has taken a lot of pills and this is her goodbye. Instantly in a panic (I was 15 I believe) I run downstairs shouting to my dad and brother. My dad tells me to give him the phone and she says she will only speak to me. Groggily telling me how sorry she is etc.

I have no idea how long that call was but I had to beg and plead with her non stop as she was drifting off to tell me where she was. I guess right toward the end she realised she didn’t actually want to die or I made her feel bad enough about it that she started telling me small details about where she is.

Turns out she got a ferry to an island on the other side of Ireland that she had visited as a kid. My dad called the local police there and gave whatever directions I could get out of her while screaming at her to stay awake.

We got her back, checked her into a psychiatric ward, where she “fell in love” with a girl in there too and both of them moved to France together immediately on being released. My dad and brother resented me for it, assuming I must have idk encouraged her or something? Brother told me if I didn’t support dad then I wasn’t his brother. I lived in that environment for a few years till I moved out for college.

My mum has spent the rest of her life being an emotionally manipulative piece of shit and trying to get me to pretend none of this happened. I tried to approach it directly before and she burst into tears saying “wont you ever stop throwing that in my face” despite my having NEVER mentioned it till that point. I’ve tried many times (I’m over 30 now) to try find some kind of functional relationship there, or even just to learn to forgive her but every single time it just fills me with absolute fucking fury knowing the shit she has done to me and my dad and brother.