I’ve been lurking on the sidelines trying to be supportive. I do this to distract myself through anxiety & loneliness. Mental illness has a way of making you isolate. You have people in your life that you don’t share your struggles with. I have a list of things that I keep private. Most of all what led me down the road of anxiety and depression. Today I’m ripping off the bandaid with you. I’m sick of pretending to be someone I’m not. My secrets and scars are dark, ugly and consuming. They are part of me.
I was born to a narcissist mother. I was not the golden child. For 50 years she lied and would not say who my birth father was. I found out last year thanks to ancestry DNA. I grew up in a home that appeared picture perfect. Upper middle class, mom dating a state senators son, good schools, beautiful home. On the inside of that home? The state senators son sexually abused me from age 7-9. My mother told me that I was ruining her happiness because I cried about him hurting me (I didn’t know what to call the foul things he did to me). After that point she eventually kicked him out for better things. I had to listen to my mom having sex at night with strangers she brought home. Stuffing anything I could find in my ears just to muffle the noises. In the morning I never knew if she would be locked away in her room or if some strange man would be wandering around our home. I would go to school and be bullied. Biting my lips till they cracked and bled. I didn’t dare tell my mother because that would just be another reason for her to disapprove of me. I would listen to her on the phone with friends whispering about my poor grades. I fell asleep at night dreaming about a father who could save me. I didn’t have many friends, they weren’t allowed to visit and it was always a clear reminder to me of what I didn’t have. As I grew older I lied about home to make it sound grander and better, not to be deceitful but out of humiliation. I escaped by becoming pregnant at 17. Becoming pregnant and being thrown out. I had to learn to fight, work and be a mother. More & more shoving the real shame of myself deep inside. I turned 50. The patches on my soul where I’ve hidden away so long keep cracking, my pain and tears keep surfacing like a vile bile rising in my throat. I have to heal and learn to move forward. Right now I’m spinning trying to find a way to begin my healing.
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lisa40509
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I can feel your pain and salute your courage to share. I just found my mother last year and know how family issues can burn in one's soul. Wishing you the kindness and warmth that can help heal you - may the angels to guide you.
Sending you lots of love!!! I'm sorry you had to go through this, I'm sorry the adults in your childhood didn't protect and cherish as they should have. I think you're really brave to finally tell your story, I'm still unable to speak up, but learning the vocabulary little by little. I struggle with the same and feel very isolated cuz I haven't been able to tell my true story to any of my friends...I mean, how do you even start a conversation like that? I help and encourage people here too, but funny enough I am not quite able to do so with myself.. again slowly learning.
Not sure if this can help you but there's lots of (free) good content/videos on Restoring Love by Zariya Lufu (on the Facebook page). It's been helping me a lot in the last few months, just to hear kind words when she speaks about such hard topics (trauma, triggers, abuse).
I wish you happiness and the knowledge that no matter your past, you are worthy of love and peace in your heart💜
Thanks for the love. I think it’s our own humiliation and loathing that keeps us silent. We can love and encourage others but sadly not ourselves. Best wishes on your journey. If you ever need a friend please feel free to reach out to me.
Yes! Sadly shame is only ever felt (and expected of) the victims of abuse, hardly ever the perpetrators. Sucks so much! Have you ever done therapy for your trauma? If so, did it help at all?
I just started my 2nd therapist. My first was in January but all she taught me was coping skills that consisted of ways to distract sad and anxious feelings. That is what I’ve been doing my whole life! I think I need to face this head on and pop it like a big pimple🤣. I’m so tired of wasting my life on this negative energy. I want to be happy!
Ikr, like we don't spend most of our lives finding ways to cope!
Do you feel your therapists have shown enough empathy and validation towards your struggles? I feel some of them are too "clinical" and don't engage that much.
Edit: And lmk how you're gonna pop that pimple pls, need ideas too!
Current idea is that this new therapist helps me to confront past trauma instead of finding new ways to distract myself. Hence popping the big pimple🤣 Side note I do love to watch a big pimple popping video!!
The thing is.. abuse is based on power, without it nobody would be able to abuse another. Those who bully others often need to reminded of how they speak to others and how they treat them and that it isn't acceptable. They are a very specific type of abuser, they thrive on the freedom to bully others undisturbed.
My mother is a bully, soon I'm going to try a new way to deal with her. Typically I'd get angry and shout at her or (in front of strangers I'd just stare at her, like WTF). But the other day I was thinking: let's show her the actual effect of her words, pain, sadness at the insult. I wanna try breaking down and asking why she treats me like this and crying. We always keep the hurt inside cuz we have to be tough, then why not show them what they really do to us?
Guess that might work with a family member alright.In my case it was overheard nasty comments and judgment, so not as easy to react to as direct bullying, also was hurt by siblings over the years from overheard comments, even a ridiculous suspicion they had on me when I was younger. I suppose I should have protested about that one, it still rankles.
Your reply has really made me think.
All considered, I think you would be right to show her the pain and sadness her words caused you.
Ohhhh I love busting people talking behind my/or anybody's back! I mean just the look of terror in their face while you repeat what they just said🤣
Unfort. people can get used to be unkind towards others so much that they forget what it would feel like to be the victim of bullying. IF you can, remind others you love to be kinder, I'm learning to do this more often now, cuz otherwise is very easy to speak just to be mean or gossip mindlessly, it's awful really!
Obviously it's not about sucking up to mean people, it's just about seeing if they are receptive towards change for the good of all, you could even ask them: "What can you possibly enjoy about making fun of others? Are you still in school? Have you not grown up since then?"
Ooh, some great tactics there! In my own mind , l have likened some of these people to schoolyard bullies. Exactly repeating their words back to them really appeals wickedly to me!
Give it a go then After all this also applies to ourselves when we have that negative internal dialogue. Would we really speak to someone else like that? Will there be any benefit to being mean? Or would compassion for ourselves and others actually help?
Even to the bullies, if you said to them: I wonder where all this negativity comes from? What hurtful things have been said to you? Or do you speak to yourself that way?
Not saying it would do miracles, but who knows, you might be the catalyst for change in them.
I’m making my second attempt. My 1st therapist earlier this year kept teaching me ways to distract myself when thoughts came to mind but this made it worse. I’m now with a therapist who is going to teach me to deal with this head on.
Oh, I am so sorry about this. Childhood trauma can be such a burden and an obstacle. I grew up with an abusive father and while it's been years and I'm far past grown up, still to this day I struggle against his influence. If there's one piece of advice I can give you that I wish I'd discovered sooner, it's this- find the courage you need to be gentle with yourself. When I first began therapy and the process of healing, I kept stumbling over the concept of being gentle with myself. How could I? It was too risky. It was foolish. I didn't deserve it. I shouldn't need it. But if we want to heal, we do indeed need it. In unstable households, we're taught that caring for ourselves is indulgence, and we're somehow bad children for having needs. It can be hard getting over that programming so that we can reach for what we need. But at our core, we're just like everyone else, and having needs is no crime. We were made to feel it is, but we can act in spite of that feeling, and reach for what we need to heal. Wishing you all the very best ❤️
Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your words ring so true that I noticed Tears streaming down my face. Even now I’m hiding what I’m dealing with from my own family so as not to burden them or be such a bother. This might be the first thing I need to learn for the rest of this to work. Again thank you❤️
Sounds like your mother was pretty self absorbed. I'm sorry you had to live a life like that. Nobody should. Now days I see people have kids with each other and move on like it's nobody's business.
My mother is a narcissist so that’s one of the things I’m working on. They say what doesn’t kill you or break you makes you stronger so eventually I’m planning into morphing into a super hero🤣
I was left with a brother and father when my mother died, sisters had married. Neither of those two communicated with me outside of the mundane. I believe my brother did not even like me. He died some years ago. I believe I was emotionally neglected. I was only 13.Even before that though, I was socially awkward.
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After all this also applies to ourselves when we have that negative internal dialogue. Would we really speak to someone else like that? Will there be any benefit to being mean? Or would compassion for ourselves and others actually help?
Growing up around women who were afraid to speak
About me- long post 
Dealing with childhood demons at age 31
Got Advice?
The last letter I sent my mother, I can’t take anymore 
