A Collective of memoirs by J.S. about Trauma + Mental Health + Abuse + Healing.
I don't think you will receive this message but either way I just need to get it out.
I have been trying for so many years to heal myself because it's all I have.
You and my mother cannot fix the damage you both caused and don't take real responsibility for it. Even though you each did a lot of harm to me, you both see it as I failed or hurt you guys in some way. I am sure it's valid and honest of each of you but it is just incorrect.
I was a kid. A tiny kid. And then. A teenager. Who the fuck knows life at that age.
I've always had to examine life in a mature way and make excuses for people. Even for you.
I blame it on you being sick. Being addicted. Being sad by the loss of your father. Being schizophrenic. Being bipolar. Being fucked up. I blame it on your family. And really at the end of the day, it was you and your choices.
You, whether you could or could not help it mentally just chose wrong.
Chose to not raise me.
I'm so angry. I'm so annoyed. To the core.
Even though day to day I am fine and functioning, it's always some how creeping up how much you guys didn't do for me. And I always thought down on myself for feeling that way. Like I should be accepting and not angry. Or take responsibility for myself and get over it.
Part of me isn't fucking over it.
When it's a friend or a significant other then I one can say hey whatever I'll do better and I'll get over it.
But you gave me life. You chose my mother and then you chose to make me. Have me.
You gave me this kind of life.
And thank God I have given myself the life I have now. But it's no thanks to you.
You were supposed to teach me love. Acceptance. Hope. To dream. To work hard.
You were supposed to teach me how to love and who to love.
Who to date and who to marry.
Fuck. You were supposed to teach me who to trust with my heart. My body. My future.
You should have helped me with my homework. With sports. Dance. Art. Take me to classes.
Be there when I fuck up.
Be there when I have questions.
Be there when I achieve and when I fail.
You were supposed to screen my h.s. boyfriends, not be jealous of them.
You should have taught me how to parent.
I was supposed to be able to call you to babysit.
Call YOU for parenting advice.
But then I remember. I was supposed to be able to see and call your dad. Your mom.
Your parents fucked you up. Your dad for passing away and not being there. And your mom for not being able to hold you together when he did.
You have always been frozen in your own mind since losing him. You for sure were bipolar and had other deficits even as a kid. And then you got into drugs as a teen. You fucked yourself before ever ruining me. So then I feel bad.
I feel guilty for hating you.
I feel guilty for being hurt
I feel guilty for being broken
Because it's only my responsibility in the end to fix me.
Not a husband's job. Not your job.
No one's but mine.
Fuck you for leaving me.
And fuck you for not being your own hero when you had no other
My mother was a psycho. And you knew it since you dated her. But you didn't really do anything about it. Maybe you were scared or maybe you didn't know how
She was supposed to be there for me too.
Love me and teach me. Not taunt me and hurt me.
Not abuse me.
She was supposed to teach me how to love myself
How to be and feel beautiful inside and out
She was supposed to teach me how to be a mom
A girlfriend. A wife.
She should have helped me pick the right man.
The right men.
The right dress for prom.
For my wedding day.
Fuck both of you.
But thanks to me I will figure it out.
Thanks to me.
I have so much more to say but at the same time nothing I say will fix this.
It might Take the rest of my life to heal. But I will do it.
Both parents were abusive, neglectful, and severely mentally impaired because of their sicknesses. My father would end up in and out of my life growing up, until relapsing and and abandoning me at 15. I would see him one last time a year later, while pregnant with my first child at 16. He tried to kill me and told me to disappear out of his life. In the years to come, he would have several complications in his life, including becoming homeless and overdosing multiple times. These were my responses and engagement with him, in raw honesty and despair.
I now write about my accounts with multiple abusers to shed light on what experiences abuse victims go through. I hope that my choice to be transparent will inspire others to speak out about the abuse they have endured, sometimes right within their own home and earliest relationships.
Read more stories here on the blog or submit your own under the WRITE tab. You can also email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
Content mention of Rape, Abuse, Neglect, Addictions, Mental Illness, Kidnap, Molestation, Child abuse, Teen Pregnancy, Abortion, birth, body image, gender/identity dysphoria, sexuality, personal trauma, domestic violence and other extremely personal stories. Please practice caution. I am not a licensed physician or mental health professional. No medical prescribing is provided on this site, Only personal insights, experience stories, and advice; All stories published have had prior authorization. Questions? Contact Jean at: email@example.com
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