Neuf

It happened.
It sucked.
It still sucks.

I’ll try to chronicle my trauma and have a trustworthy aunt read it. I want to document it and somewhow put it out there.

I’ll compensate for every slight by treating myself that better.

I’ll hang on to encouragements like it’s no one’s business.

I’ll try to reach the state of indifference, which I think is the ultimate revenge.

I grew up a punching bag. Not that any of the abuse was newsworthy. It must have been more dysfunctionnal than average but not spectacular.

BUT, I took it worse than everyone else because I was truly alone. And I had nothing to take comfort in. No smarts to rely on. Not a particular adult who saw something in me. I was a definite loser. And my family made sure to remind me.

No one at home ever admitted to the psychological and more rarely, physical assaults (of course, all siblings get into some of that at some point).

It’s the fact that I’m alone in it.
No one defends me.
I certainly didn’t defend myself.
No one taught me I was worth defending.
My mother watched my sister go a it and took pleasure in adding to it.
She never took my defense.
The fact that no one recognizes it.
The fact I’m not seen or heard, respected or acknowledged by these people today.
The fact that they continue in their smugness.
How could they get away with it?
And anything I say today is dismissed in some way as well. Snidely.
How can they live with themselves?
I’m not seen or heard or acknowledged or validated.
And they don’t have the capacity to understand that.
They systematically refuse to see their own faults. I have never seen these people admit they were wrong. At anything.
I’m trapped. I really am.

I have the deepest disgust for them. Though the way they acted wasn’t newsworthy wrong, it was unequivocally abusive.

It’s not okay. End of story.

My wounds feel deep, fresh and many, even when they date back very far.

Sometimes, I don’t know what to do.

I know what sudden outbursts are made of. I know what it’s like to be bullied and wish for revenge. I know what school shootings are made of. Bullying is hard. It depletes me. I’m chronically fatigued. What’s the use of doing anything, of being anything, while these people still walk the earth unscathed? Like nothing happened?

And if I told the people involved about how I was privately mistreated. They wouldn’t believe me. Or they wouldn’t care.

I feel crazy. Because they all act like nothing happened. Worse, they act as though they are untouchable. Smug. Arrogant. I’m the only one who knows the truth.

I’m alone.

Well, it’s official. I think I’m crazy. Or a huge part of me is. I hallucinate. I talk to myself. I imagine people near me and gesture at imaginary adversaries.

For 2 days now, I’ve been brooding like mad. On and off. Lows of fighting the urge to write hatemail. To the sister, to Liz, to the mother. To the X. Imagining conversations with my mother about not wanting to see anyone again. About moving.

Just had another crazy fantasy of screaming at my sister. And more scary thoughts.

I remember coming to my boss last year in tears to tell him I had to leave. And the reason for it. He was nearly in tears too. I remember 3-4 years ago ish, I was drawing horrific hate images to my family. I think it said: F- You. Die.

I have this need to express my very deep hate, resentment for the family that mistreated me. Though it wasn’t newsworthy mistreatment, the idea is that it needs to be acknowledged and no one will see it. No one will take responsibility. No one EVER acknowledges me. I always get some kind of: ‘It’s normal’; ‘Everyone is like that’. Always a form of: ‘There is nothing special about you. I refuse to see you’.

So that’s life at home. No one hears me. No one ever has heard me. No one wants to.

The trauma stems from childhood. Today, the lack of validation should be deemed innocuous. But it’s not to me.

As a child, it was screaming, verbal and some (not much) physical abuse. Especially screaming. Lack of encouragement. Negligence. Some smothering. Impositions. Lack of proper teaching. Lack of skill teaching. Lack of sense of self. Lots of ‘you suck’. Lack of nurturing. I’ve been reading. It’s abuse.

And all those years repressing it, this abuse not having been acknowledged, it’s made me crazy. I think I have PTSD.

It drives me mad because I’m alone. I’m the only one who knows I was mistreated by my sister. No one will see it. I’m the only one who’s outraged by how we were treated. The sisters are over it. It’s not okay. It was never okay. Someone somewhere has to pay. I need justice.

My Dad just pat me on the head in benevolence the other day. I’m not a dog. I’m not your daughter. It sends me to a rage, when I think about it.

So when we were younger, the abuse was IMO, fairly severe. Today, there are remnants of it. But it’s all in all, a fairly okay environment. But my standards rose since then. On top of the un-acknowledged childhood abuse… The Brady Bunch attitude drives me mad.

I refuse to acknowledge you. You shall not be an equal. You shall be denied.

And this applies to e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. I think it’s some kind of power trip.

Mom’s pettiness… superficially innocuous right?

- Hey Mom, my teacher is so proud of me.
- So, is he going to give you a job?

- Hey Mom, me employers are so happy with my job.
- So, are they gonna give you a raise?

- Hey Mom, here is a good product you asked for. It has a very specific ingredient.
- All products are the same.

Mom’s pettiness, to the formerly abused child. ‘For f-ck’s sake. Can’t you acknowledge ANYTHING??? I see the sky is blue! Are you going to tell me EVERYTHING is blue. It’s ALWAYS blue?!!! Why can’t you see what I see?!!! Why do you HAVE to deny it?’

- Hey LADIES! We suck! Our family sucks! Wake up!!! Why doesn’t anyone see what I see?
- Oh relax, all families are dysfunctional.

I’m hallucinating. I’m psychotic. I have violent fantasies. I have the urge to write hatemail. I understand bullied kids who wake up one day and wack everybody.

I get them. I’m one of them.

I was thinking, since I don’t have the skills to express myself to these perpetrators and to be honest, they’re pretty harmless today…

I still need to express myself. I still need the acknowledgement. And if I get enough of those two things, maybe it will relieve me… I don’t know. I’m pretty decided on moving too… It should all help, right?