As much as I claim to know my dad better then my mom, I still can’t figure out half the shit he thinks about me. I’ve spent years trying to be just like my dad, since there was also a logical conclusion to his actions, and he was always willing to share those conclusions with me. That made me feel safe.
I mean sure, he’s done problematic stuff, like bash and insult my mother openly, doesn’t openly reconcile the mistakes he’s made with her, and his temper is downright scary, but at least I could understand why he did everything that he did.
With my mother…well, I always got punished for really arbitrary reasons that weren’t my fault, and since she could never be scott free from her mistakes from my father she would never let me get away with mistakes without making me feel like a horrible person. The sad part was she didn’t realize what she was doing…to the point of not beliving it was even happening.
Even when I admitted myself into the hospital, even when I ran way from home, she still doesn’t beleive that I have a problem. Every time I meet her one on one she goes, “You’re not really crazy Tiffy, stop this nonsense right now, your home is here, your family needs you”
Like….I can’t do anything nice for myself without feeling horrifically shameful. I just give up everything I love away because I feel like a terrible person for keeping things that I like.
I wish she would actually listen and believe me when I say, that I still love her but she’s really messed me up psychologically. But she won’t admit that, she never will and she’ll blame all my problems on me.