I’ve finally gotten to this point in my life where I know I’m not the one who was crazy to think my family was treating me so unfairly. My dad died from suicide when I was only 4 years old and they put me and my brother in the same household that [partially] killed my father. My grandparents raised me and my brother to the best of their ability but they really weren’t so able. You see, when you’re not able to look at yourself in the mirror and understand why you do the things you do or think the way you think- you live your life staying the same person. My grandparents put me and my brother in therapy but I could see straight through my grandparents. I told them repeatedly how much they needed therapy and to figure out why they’re living their life purely run off of guilt/fear.
They were never the problem. I was.
How dare I show emotions?
How dare I feel abandoned when my dad and mom (that’s a whole other story) want nothing to do with me?
How dare I not keep my room clean?
I really started to believe I was the problem.
Why do I have such troubled friendships/relationships?
It’s all me. But the truth is- we’re supposed to get taught these things (from our parents) with patience and understanding. I never got that. I never got taught how to be confident and how to set boundaries in my relationships. I was taught one way of living and I honestly didn’t agree with it. I just hate the process of undoing all this bullshit that’s been installed into me by someone else.
