#estrangement
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Steve Carell was my estranged father and that he’d just won an Oscar for playing Michael Scott in the Office. I was at there to congratulate him, so I followed him when he got backstage in my PJs and was like hey dad, congrats. He’s like thanks kiddo, let’s have dinner some day but he was super dismissive so I got angry and now I’m looking for revenge. In this realm, Steve is the founder of Tesla so to get my revenge, I go around town absolutely trashing all the Teslas I see. I never hear from him again.
#dream#text#March 30th 2024#steve carell#oscar#academy award#oscars#award#father#estrangement#family#the office#office#michael scott#tesla
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bones and flesh, Love Elizabeth S.
#father wound#estrangement#fathers#father issues#writeblr#writers of tumblr#poem#poetry#original poem#love elizabeth s#quotes#my poem#books#short poem#sylvia plath#dark acadamia quotes#parents#ptsd#trauma#childhood trauma#mental health#narcissistic abuse#abuse#dark academia quotes#relatable quotes#life quotes#franz kafka#letters to#franz kafka letter to his father#booklr
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Y'all ever daydream about what you can do with your life, house, and self when you're finally free of your family?
#toxic parents#childhood trauma#toxic mother#toxic mom#toxic family#dysfunctional family#estrangement#becoming estranged
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“We’ve tried everything “ 🤥
#toxic parents#dysfunctional family#nmom#emotional abuse#accountability#estrangement#estranged parents#scapegoating#no contact#aftermath
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Estrangement:
*This is a POV of you and Harry's daughter Kaitlin. Yn= you and ofc Harry is your husband. Mentions of mistreatment towards their child. Not physical abuse but emotional neglect and somewhat abuse I guess.*
The wind shoved up against my curtains and the open window that let out a surreal glimpse into the real world. The California cotton candy sunset flashed it's colors in the sky, as the darkness of the soon to come night sky would befall it all. There I laid in bed, on my laptop checking out the Instagram friends I had for over the 2 years since I finally decided to create an account. I never posted anything, but it was an escape from the inhabitable environment of home.
Ah to be the middle child-the second to the oldest that was adored and loved by all the family. That was Kimberly. Our parents started the trend of naming us all with the letter K. Kimberly, Kaitlin, Kylie, Kameron and Kristopher (My brothers) and youngest named Kira. All six of with the letter...K. Although despite my name with the familiar syllable...that still didn't make me fit in.
Kimberly had her honors, her trophies hung up as prized possessions for achievements inside and outside school, Kylie had her art that she drew, even having an art wall put into her bedroom because....why not? Then the twins had their sports, the athletic side that earned them several trophies and praise from mom and dad, and then there was Kira. The baby of the family...she didn't have anything except cuteness that came as a surprise to everyone when the twins turned 6. She didn't have to work hard for attention, it came to her whether she wanted it or not.
Then there was me. In everyone's shadow. I liked poetry...I wrote some whenever I could find inspiration...but that didn't matter to anyone. My parents could care less. Kira appreciated it, so I would always doll out time to write about a mystical pony in the sky or a rainbow spotted cheetah that ran on the stars nighttime dust just to have a moment with the little girl before her bedtime.
My hair abruptly blew from the evening breeze that signaled it's reign. I typed away on the keys of my stone colored laptop, hoping one of my friends was up to chat. It wasn't often this peaceful in the house besides my bedroom, where laughter filled the hallways or the downstairs, or screams and cries echoed throughout bedrooms, mostly by the screaming toddler that didn't want to go to bed while all her siblings stayed up into late hours. That's where I'd come in with a story that sent little Kira right to sleep, hugging her stuffed moon pillow with the cutest little innocent face on it. Mom and dad never appreciated my efforts in putting my sister, their child to sleep. Almost like I was the ghost haunting the house just doing random deeds that no one felt the need to acknowledge.
Except for Kira, I was alone. The earthy sky and the now booming stars showed as my nightly companions if I happened to be up into late hours like tonight.
No reply from the instagram friends. The internet people from behind a screen that could live a thousand miles away from the scorching California summer, that despite the burning temperatures, still managed to give that bohemian summertime aesthetic all year round. Fall was a favored season of mine mostly due to the summer's temper finally cooling down for the year where sweat jackets were all anyone needed to step a foot outside.
My brown strands that were mixed with a honey blonde, laid neatly on my shoulders as I contemplated going downstairs to grab a drink. Maybe I'll be able to strike up a conversation with Kimberly about what type of tricks I can use to get the professor to lighten my load in my assignments. I was just kidding myself....goody two shoes will run to mommy and daddy and spill the beans, leading to a stern lecture about being honest and doing what's required of me in all I do in school despite never having the help I needed.
But to my luck, school was almost over and soon I'll be able to apply for a job that will land me into a steady track of a good income. I can say that I did this all by myself. My dad. The college professor at one of the most prestigious schools in the country couldn't even lift a finger to help me with any work even when I've asked. Long nights spent at the library, studying through every English literature book I could find is what pushed me up to the top tier. My mom being no better was a nag. She nagged me about nothing being done right with my chores all because I was 'studying' too much and was actually talking about me wanting to drop out.
I pushed them all away and forged a path on my own with the help of ambition and black coffee on those all nighters. I decided against going downstairs and just focused on my poetry. Little footsteps crawled through the mellow lit hallway and a soft knocked appeared on my door.
I carefully tiptoed to the door and spotted my little sister, sucking her thumb and finally suckling out about how she wanted another story read. I rubbed my strained eyes with some upcoming dark circles growing under them like a raccoon and invited her in. She took a seat on my bed as I read to her from a book of my poems that I had made myself.
Kira giggled as I imitated the voices of the characters I had imagined for them. "And then the big horse said-"
"Kira what are you doing out of bed!?" Mom came in, eyes instantly reverting to me as if I had somehow forced Kira out of bed to listen to my somber poems filled with deep angst and bitterness that I dare not squawk out to dispassionate family. Not even Kira knows the depths of emptiness I feel from a day-to-day basis from the excruciating nonchalant parents I have that force me to swallow myself whole and shield myself yet at the same time whenever I can feel disapproval coming on strong. Only me, never Kim, Kam, Kris, Ky or Kir thank goodness. I couldn't bare my youngest sister going through the pains of not having someone. And when I'm gone, I dread to see just how much of that nightmare is true.
Mom swept Kira off the bed like dust being swept in a dustpan and sweetly carried her back into her bedroom. But not before letting me have it, like she saw me as some villain trying tear apart her family. "Kaitlin! You are not supposed to disturb your sister when she's sleeping! You know better!"
"It's okay mommy, I went into her room," Sweet Kira insisted. "It's okay honey, let's just get you back to bed." The woman's eyes diverted themselves back to me. This time with more coldness. "You stay in your room and be quiet. I don't want to hear a peep from you." She sneered. She whisked Kira away and that was that. I listened closely by the doorframe of my bedroom, only to hear exaggerated kisses coming from Kira's bedroom. A smile snuck itself onto my face somehow, maybe for the sake of Kira getting all the love she deserves.
Coldness covered my back like a blanket, as I could see mom leaving Kira's room. She stared at my room with a deep glare before continuing on downstairs. I quietly got up and went back to my bed, staring at the half read story that was written for Kira. My eyes gazed back to the stars that had now showed themselves with their yellow glares that shined down on my hazel eyes. One day....it'll all be over. I tucked myself into bed after doing a french braid and laid back in the purple and gray covers that kept me warm until dawn. My opened window still let in that summertime breeze that swished the sweat from my head and the tears from my eyes.
Then darkness. I was asleep.
I woke up to the sun glaring through my bedroom window, it's fumy glow rested on my face as nature's alarm clock. I rubbed my tired eyes to notice the window was still open from last night. The fresh morning dew air tickled my nose as it swirled around the sunlight sherbet sky. The curtains swung back and fourth to the rhythm of the wind that captured a cool breeze into my room that made it less sufferance than yesterday's furious heat that left everyone's tongues out panting like a dog.
I made my way downstairs, finally getting ahold of some orange juice before the breakfast rush came in. Peace and quiet, my personal serenity from the other seven residents living in the perfect big house on a white picket fence hill. I swallowed harshly at the thought and continued pouring my orange juice into a big glass cup with pretty little designs on it. I sat in the kitchen nook taking in the summer morning that allowed me my peace and happiness even if it was to be temporary.
I closed my eyes and let my mind take me into my safe space, my personal little bubble that kept me sane, happy and wanted. Bouncing on bubbles type of happy, sunflower kiss happy, swimming in a bed full of lavenders happy. I breathed taking it all in, letting my brain fill with all sorts of dreams. Maybe I could catch them if I just....
The atmosphere changed. Dad had entered the room...I could feel it. The deep dive I had taken into fantasy world, was now tethering me back up to the main land. The somber reality of it all.
I opened my eyes, only to be met with distant and cold green ones that were so close, yet so far away. Hm, reminds me of Kristopher. He acted just like dad....only a little nicer. I was more accepting of his behavior because he's my brother....and siblings are supposed to tease each other right? But father's and daughters.....well dad's was more brutal...more condescending. It was inconsolable at times. The bright crimson sky had now metaphorically turned into an ugly black and grayish one filled with nightmares and turmoil.
He didn't even say good-morning. And well neither did I so we're even. "Good morning." I said finally grasping myself from my biased rudeness. No sense for me to be a jerk as well. Still no response just a "Mhmm." It wasn't until Kim joined in that he greeted her with a kiss and a "Good morning" as usual. Once again, alienated. Pretty soon the whole crowd started coming in and I was sitting in the kitchen nook still alienated from the residents.
Loneliness engulfed me like a wave washing over sand and leaving it moist and crushed, as the pack started rolling in for the breakfast rush. I ended up making some toast, coffee and cereal and took it all upstairs to my bedroom to eat and relax. But as my luck had it, I heard my dad's voice shift from the living and then eventually to the staircase. "Kaitlin! Come here now!" He yelled with a repugnant sneer.
I traipsed downstairs but was stopped midway by my dad putting his hand up. "What's this?" He said with a condescending tone. I looked down to see some spilled milk from when I was taking my cereal upstairs. "Milk," I answered. "I want you to come and clean this up." He finished, venom practically spilling from him lips. Dad pursed his lips and gave a strong grisly glare as I continued on down the stairs and made my way to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. As I returned, dad made me get on my hands and knees while he towered over me like a heavy rock threatening to crush it's little twigs that lie beneath it. He wanted me to feel powerless and patronized..that's where he got his second wind.
I cleaned up the mess and just took the paper towels upstairs with me to my bedroom, so I could tend to my soggy cereal and toast and cold coffee. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as I took a sip from my cold watered down coffee. My small breakfast was ruined thanks to my dad who became livid over some spilled milk. I could hear him laughing it up with the rest of the family, not even caring that I wasn't to take delight in the family breakfast. I was too timid to even bother going downstairs and heating my coffee up, so I just took it as it was and left it at that.
My lips quivered as I took a bit from my toast and another from my cereal. I stomached through it and then tarnished the remains once I felt it safe to enter the kitchen. Kylie, Kimberly, Kristopher, Kameron and Kira were all the ones mom and dad seemed to truly love. The way mom flashes her natural motherly smile at them, they way dad grins as he shares his fatherly wisdom with them, encouraging them to give it their all and be the best version of themselves.
It was like seeing everyone's happiness through the eyes of a ghost. The only thing I focused on was throwing away my garbage and heating up a new cup of coffee. That's what I was getting because I deserved better. My spirits kept me afloat, through a complete tug-of-war with my heart and despondent thoughts. The beep of the microwave didn't stop anyone from their chatting, so I took my hot cup of coffee and made my way upstairs to my bedroom to drown myself in some school work. The sooner I graduated, the sooner I would be getting that job as a writer. I plugged in my headphones and drowned myself in writing my essay to send into the teacher.
Trade school was like that. But it was less stressful then college so I took that over any day, the last thing I needed was more heartache to add to what I was facing at home. My endurance was tested everyday with new and different things. I should be grateful. It's made me a stronger person I guess.
Later that afternoon, I asked mom if I could go to the library to study. I prayed she'd let me go because in her eyes, it would get me out of the house. Of course she said yes, probably thinking the same thing just in a more strident way of thinking. I grabbed my backpack and dashed out the door. The last thing I needed was another setback like the one dad gave me this morning.
The library was finally peace and quiet. It reminded me of the tranquility of relief I felt this morning. Just me and the other 4 people scattered across the section. Disappearing for me felt freeing, no one could hurt me, no one could say anything that breaks down the brick wall that has encased me inside. I pulled a few promising books from the shelf before diving right into to a computer and finishing my studies there. My eyes moved back and fourth from the bright screen, then to the basic pages of the book. I was chiefly more focused on the book and writing notes into my online notebook to clear the clutter of having scattered flash cards or notebook pages that were trailed into different sections that after awhile became confusing and only gave me the bare minimum of what I needed.
My head was consistently shoved into a book for 3 hours straight until I decided enough was enough and that I needed to catch a break from all the studying. So I grabbed my backpack, swung it over my shoulder and left the library for some coffee. I walked along the sandy colored pathway to the nearest downtown coffee shop, only to see the line was overwhelmingly vast. The galling amount of customers was going to be too much for me to handle if I hadn't noticed the blonde haired boy serving the drinks. I quickly plopped myself in line, anxiously waiting to be served by the charmer making the lattes.
To my one in a million break, the line moved rather faster than when I had looked in the window. The varying customers left one by one out of the line with their espresso treats, while I was only three customers in from meeting fate in a green apron and a dimpled smile. My cheeks burned when I swore he made eye contact with me. These hazel eyes really captured his attention?
I was already rehearsing my order in my head for when I got to the counter as not to choke on the right words from a pretty face making direct contact with me. An iced vanilla latte with whipped cream and caramel drizzle.....and maybe one of those fudge brownies that look so delicious?
Finally was up to the line after the woman in front of me got her regular hazelnut coffee that she too impatient to drink once she was out of the line. I cleared my throat and looked confidently in the barista's eyes, despite his matching hazel ones being intimidating ample. "I-I would like an iced vanilla latte with whipped cream and caramel sauce. And a fudge brownie please." I politely requested.
The blonde haired boy typed in the order and asked if there was anything else I would like. "No that'll be all." He smiled and waited for me to hand him my card. With shaky, infatuated hands, I gave him my card to swipe. "Alrighty, you're all set." He smiled and immediately got to work on my coffee and snack. I blushed deeply as I remembered his fingers touched my hand as he took my card. I shuffled my card back into my wallet as a partial excuse to shield my face from his seeing me scarlet stained cheeks from his encounter.
Pretty soon, I saw my coffee was served right in front of me along with a packaged brownie cake and a handsome smile that farewelled me with; "Have a nice day." I smiled back and repeated those words to him before grabbing my coffee and brownie and then leaving. I shoved my phone into my pocket to enjoy my brownie and iced coffee as I walked along downtown and sight see all the different tall buildings that and the short offices that still added depth to the anomalous city. I finished my brownie, now it was just my coffee that needed my attention I sipped along to when I spotted a large building that sent phobic chill up my spine. My heart raced at an irrational but sensible speed the more I walked past it.
My father's school where he worked. Sure he was a hit with all the kids that he shared his immeasurable knowledge of life and of science with. Word on the street was Professor styles is a excellent teacher and his skills are astute! Even I had to agree with it to a perspective...dad was one very intelligent man. But a horrid father to me. I decided to suck in my hostage breath and face a very inhibit fear of mine that shouldn't even began to exist. I walked through the tall brownish red doors that led me to the highly lavish main floor of classrooms and lockers that were attached to the ornate walls. I chugged my coffee down anxiously as I wandered through the exquisite college that I felt out of place at.
My feet dared not turn to the cursed third floor, room 109 where my dad taught his classes there only to those who were desirable in his eyes...which was everyone but me. But my inquisitive brain was in full control of my feet that took me straight to the elevator, and pressed the third floor button almost as if it had some macabre pleasure in seeing myself become jaded and disgustingly humiliated from the elective situations I sometimes put myself in involving my parents. It was obvious that I just didn't have that type of relationship with them...I just didn't have it.
The elevator doors opened to reveal a still expensively decorated hallway and classroom door. My stomach grew into knots as I tiptoed down the quiet hallway nervously sipping my iced coffee to it's ending. My throat became dry and hollow and my lungs grew bitter the more my eyes darted across the different classroom door numbers.
107, 106, 108...109.
My lips became dry and chapped as my now pale skin grew more and more white as shivers sprinted inside of me. My hands literally shook from wanting to open the door to the large college classroom styled like an auditorium just to sit in and maybe listen to a lecture from which my dad had rehearsed specifically for the class. Sweat introduced itself into my forehead as I thought about the consequences if I were to be seen by him. The embarrassment that I cause him might make his class lose respect for him which would then make him furious with me, leading to him making my life more of a living hell.
I decided it wouldn't be that bad since the lecture hall was so big, that it would be a in a million of him spotting me. Maybe, I just could ponder on one or two words that incited percipience in me. I opened the door and took a seat at the top that was hard to spot from a below point of view. I finished my coffee and listened intently to the lecture dad was giving on science and humanity.
"The human heart is a vital organ in the body that gives us life..it allows us to run and walk and jump and survive even in the most tedious situations. But what about the heart of the mind? The one that allows us to feel, to think, to see not with our eyes...but with our perception?"
I was so invested into the conversation that I didn't even realize the worst....I had been spotted.
Dad's eyes, once full of insight and deep logic...now were glacial, passionless and aloof. I swallowed hard to lubricate my throat from the tense dryness I felt all until now. Should I leave? I wondered turning away from the gelid professor. I stood up and walked out of the lecture, not even caring what anyone else thought. They were probably too focused on the 'world's best teacher.'
I exited the school and ran as fast as I could outside, to get lost in the day-to-day of downtown.
Back at home, I entered the house barely making eye contact with anyone and hurrying myself up to my room and locking the door behind me. I didn't come until later when I was called downstairs in a callous voice.
I demurely opened the door, stepped outside in the cold wooded floor hallway and walked down the matching icy wooded steps. There dad was sitting...waiting for me with resentment deep inside his expression.
"Hey dad, mom says dinner is almost ready," Kristopher interrupted to my gratefulness. "Thank you bud, I'll be right there." A completely different man! So warm and gentle and was completely placated in his temper. But he switched it off when his eyes darted towards me. I came closer and sat across from him, almost wanting to intimidate him.
"Why were you in the college today?" He said quietly with a hiss to his words. His illiberal tone made me rethink my answer that was drowning in my paralyzed throat that was dead to speak. "I-I heard your speech....I mean....I wanted to hear your speech because it was so good and I had just come back from the library and- "
"Isn't studying your own topic enough for you?" My dad sneered bitterly. "What are you taking these classes for if you can't even have the passion to listen to them?" I blinked back tears and swallowed hard as to not choke out a sob. "I don't want you doing that ever...again. Understood?" Dad looked at me with abhor, building deep in his eyes the more his eyes stared deeply into mine. I nodded before retiring to my bedroom and missing dinner that was waiting for everyone downstairs. My stomach growled harshly as the only thing I had eaten was a brownie and an iced coffee for the past few hours.
But my intemperate bitter sadness nested itself around me, as I cried into my pillow, tears puncturing wrinkles and damp spots into the pillowcase. I sobbed loudly into my pillow, not allowing room for any shallow breaths to escape my lungs that were too busy spilling out bottled up fuming emotions to care. It wasn't until a soft knock on my door interrupted my emotional fest. I doddered over to the door, wiping my face careen hoping the red eyes would be seen as an allergy.
I cracked open the oak colored door to see the little girl with the pigtails and two chocolate chip cookies in her hand, anxiously waiting for the door to open to her invite. "Hey Kira, what are doing?" "You didn't come down for dinner, so I brought you these cookies so you wouldn't be hungry."
My heart stung with hope. Someone...someone cared after everything that went on today. I meekly opened the door and invited Kira in. I shared the other cookie with her maybe as a subliminal award for caring. And because, I was deeply grateful for her generosity. As much as I tried to hide it, the sweet 7 year old noticed my teary trails and my red burning eyes of sadness. "Why are you crying Kaitlin?" She had that innocent little lisp that foiled her from saying my name in it's clearness, but I fully understood what she meant.
I sniffled, chocking back a pathetic cry as to not let a 7 year old know every painful detail, detailing the atrocious events of tonight. "Katie's very sad because she had a bad day." To put it simply. Kira nuzzled herself over to me and hugged me tightly in her little arms. Her puny little body, filled a warm sensation of love that was describable in this moment. If I could pick her up and move her with me when I go, I would no doubt about it.
After everyone had retired themselves upstairs for leisure or sleep, I snuck downstairs to the kitchen where the leftovers were stored away and plopped a reasonable portion of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and asparagus onto my plate that I heated in the microwave oven for a measly 3 minutes. I had poured a glass of lemonade and made a neat napkin with a fork and then moved quicker than light upstairs with my dinner once it was finished.
I ate silently in my room, concentrating on each bite that I collected with my fork and hungrily shoved into my mouth. Once my dinner was finished, I set aside my plate and got to work on some more assignments. The sky was a peach rose-colored that struck awe with me. The subliminal stars appeared in the sky as the day was soon about to hand it's shift over to a mystifying night that would have more of jovial breeze than the burning summer's eve. The weather shouted California as the summer gained more reign through the months.
I still admired the way the heat itched my skin, and the way the sun slapped it's sunny glow onto my face in the morning. It just felt so earthy and sweet, refreshing as I would say taking a walk into the woods where the sun played peek-a-boo behind the tall lanky trees and that ignited the gentle birds to tweet their song like melodies with such grace.
A prompt I had used for my writing assignment earned me a meritorious A+. I remembered the last time I had showed my parents an A+ I had received from a class, their reaction was that of a nonchalant wind blowing the green grass in the midday. "That's nice Kaitlin." Mom said with distance. "Nice." Dad had barely looked up from his cell phone. That was more important. "Had I offended them?" My 6 year old mind thought. But no, that was just their initial reaction....their typical reaction.
I was used to giving myself pats on the back for a job well done or from a unwonted teacher who would praise me and give me a reward for my hard work. Usually it was those ones who showed up to my recitals, to my plays and to field day where I showed off any talent I had in those categories. I just focused on that. Not the reality of my parents shoving us all in the car to see the twin's soccer games, or Kylie's art shows or Kimberly's extracurricular college activities. I sniffled while writing the last sentence of my writing assignment. I sent it in and then logged out for the night, wanting to catch up on some well needed rest.
I woke up the smell of bacon cooking. My tummy growled as I thought about the sweet meal that was waiting downstairs. I knew I would never be apart of it, but nothing like that was going to faze me seeing at how I was only two assignments short from graduating. Everything was set, my money, empty boxes ready to be filled with every belonging I had ever owned in this room and a present for Kira. She needed it, after all....I wasn't ever coming back. Exhilaration climaxed through my body as my pins and needles tongue finally licked my lips to motivate them to open in a delighted open smile that flashed my deep dimples and my cherry sour lips.
Rent for an apartment was going to be no problem as I had already started creating my resume. All I needed was the degree that would set it all on track for me. I had saved some energy bars away in my desk and nibbled on them before grabbing my backpack filled with the most important books and raced downstairs. "Hey," I interrupted as the room fell silent. Not with grasping attention toward the speaker because of the importance of their words, but because of the murk hue that spoiled the family's breakfast. My siblings looked at me with confusion while my parents looked on with a sullen glower look.
"Could I go to the library? I really need to study," As if they needed an explanation. Mom looked to dad, waiting for an answer. "Be back by 5....it's your brother's soccer match tonight." I nodded gratefully and escaped the house as they continued their lovely meal. In a feeling a nostalgia, I practically skipped to the library for the last time in a sense of studying. This was it...the moment I had been waiting for my entire life! My ticket to self freedom. Finally setting myself free from the sinkhole of my home. Or should I say current place of residence.
I hopped on the computer and completed the two assignments with such ease, that I wondered if I was really that lucky. The words; Congratulations Kaitlin! You have officially completed your course in creative writing. Your graduation date will be posted to your home page along with the expected arrival date of your diploma.
Tears...tears fell freely from my eyes looking back and fourth at the screen of my success. I celebrated with a coffee and trip to the store to buy myself a beautiful locket in remembrance of this day.
As promised, I was home by five cautiously coming through the door, and wiping my sneakers off on the welcome mat as routine. My backpack tiredly slung over my shoulder tracing itself down to my elbow as I shut the rounded shaped blue door soundly to announce my punctual presence in the house. Confusion stabbed me as to why they would want an 'outcast' at the soccer game when they didn't even want me at the dinning room table?
I walked upstairs and changed clothing not realizing the house being suspiciously quiet. "Mom, dad? I'm home!" Those words cringed well with me. I checked everyone's bedrooms, but no one in sight. I called their cellphones, but no answer. I sat in my room, staring up at the ceiling in what to do next. The white colored plastered ceiling didn't give me any idea as to where everyone had gone. To the store maybe?
Hours passed until the sound of the door unlocking grabbed my attention. I rushed to the stairwell to see the whole gang coming in with Kristopher and Kameron holding their trophies while being cheered on by everyone for a great game. It still didn't register with me that maybe the game started earlier and they didn't have time to call me? Or was that giving them too much of an inch?
It was simple....they didn't want me there.
It shouldn't have hurt by now as I already knew I wasn't part of the family, but that didn't stop me from racing back to my bedroom and crying my eyes out in my pillow again. There was no questions about it anymore....
It was time to go.
Part 2 will be posted soon!!!!!
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#dadrry#dad!harry#harry styles and yn#harry styles fanfiction#harry fanfic#harry styles fic#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot#harry one shot#harry styles oneshot#harry styles imagines#harry styles fanfictions#estrangement#estranged parents#estranged siblings#estranged family#black sheep#daddy issues#emotional abuse#narcissistic abuse#child abuse#parental abuse#emotional neglect#emotional abandonment#angst
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When breaking generational curses, don’t expect support from those who passed it on.
#childhood trauma#complex ptsd#living with cptsd#generational trauma#abuse survivor#my advice#therapist#me too#estrangement#disorganized attachment#trauma#guilt tripping#enablement#narcissistic parents#therapist thoughts#abuse survival
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Parents who will never understand that because you weren't parented you have an incredibly hard time navigating the world. Parents who will never understand how you could be so mentally ill and not physically ill that you can't hold a job. Parents who don't understand how you see a doctor so often and are still so ill. Parents who will never understand that the reason you cant come to them until it's too late into an emergency is because we're fucking terrified of how they're going to handle it, or handle us handling it, but we have no where else to go. Parents who will never understand the full story because they genuinely are tired of hearing you try and tell it. Parents who will never take responsibility for neglect because we were too burdensome as a child and we need to be more understanding for them. Parents who will never understand how badly it hurts you that you're not in a healthy family. Parents who will never fully love you because they will never fully understand you, by choice. Parents who tell you so.
#parents#parental abuse#parental issues#parental neglect#parental abandonment#parental problems#parental alienation#parental figures#parental trauma#parent trauma#family trauma#family problems#family neglect#family struggles#family struggle#parental struggle#parenting#parent abuse#parent and child#father issues#mother issues#mother trauma#father trauma#cptsd#cptsd vent#living with cptsd#cptsd recovery#just cptsd things#estrangement
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Stares directly into the camera.
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“Just wait until you’re a parent! You’ll see just how hard it is and you’ll have a lot more sympathy for your parents.”
I’m a parent now. When I look my daughter in the face, I have so much love for her. I love her more than life. She is my world, my everything. She’s the best thing I’ve ever done. I honestly feel that I have a new purpose, a new motivation to do things.
I simply do not understand, I would argue I understand even less than I did before (which was not at all), how a parent could abuse their child. How they could look them in the face and do such terrible things.
I know now more than ever that I deserved better, that my “parents” were abusive and deserve no sympathy. Parenting is hard, yes, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t deserving of love and patience. It doesn’t mean I deserved abuse. And it certainly will never excuse their behaviour.
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is there a universe out there where you're able to love me?
maybe one where you didn't move from the house with your horse
maybe one where you went to a normal school
one where your father liked your bangs and let you say 'dork'
one where you weren't raised christian
where you didn't get married too young to an abusive man
where you didn't have to claw your way up the ladder because of your femininity
one where you dragged your mattress through the house to sleep with your mother just a few more times
one where you made a career of marine biology
where you live on a beach
where your kitten never died
where you spent more time in new orleans
one where i wasn't the only one to survive
is there any universe out there where you can love me?
and do i know how good i have it there with you?
#art#poetry#original poem#poem#poems and poetry#poets on tumblr#my art#my poetry#estranged mother#mother poetry#estranged child#estranged#estranged parents#estrangement#mother issues#tw miscarriage#estranged daughter
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NEWSFLASH for abusive parents: NO Pussy is that good.
Exactly no one in the history of ever has had a happy, healthy, loving relationship with their mum and gone no contact with them for seven years, just because their partner asked them to.
OP knows this better than anyone, because she knew to tell her son not to get involved when she found out the girlfriend was no contact with her own toxic parents. She gives no other reason why she didn't want her "genius" son to meet the "very smart and nice" Law undergrad girl he was in love with, because that was the only one. She didn't want her son to connect with other adults who are healthily and happily no contact from their own abusive family members, because she didn't want him to see it was possible.
She really wants us to beleive that she is such a victim, because her son picked an "outsider to the family" over her. Her sons girlfriend is the person she's decided is going to take the blame, and hell will freeze over before she considers blamimg the relationship breakdown on literally anyone else. Note how she breezes past telling us about her sons "accusations" of her. She's stressing that he'd never brought the issues up before he met the girl when he was in college, but never actually denies them. Considering her son and his girlfriend described her as a "criminal", I'm gonna just assume that if it was trivial, she'd have told us what she's been accused of. He didn't choose his girlfriend over his mum at all. With all the pot stirring and projecting she's admitted to doing in this post alone, it seems to me he chose himself over her. With the way she's deflecting like it's her job and rents due, I don't blame him.
Here's a take that might be controversial: stalking... is bad. Even.. if you get someone else to do it for you.
"I had to use one of those search services" (What these psycho parents call private investigators, because it sounds more like they were searching for someone missing than that they paid someone to stalk their target.) as if her being out of pocket, paying for someone to seek out a person who clearly does not wish to be found, was super fucking inconvenient for her. I just want to scream "No babe, you didn't "have to" do anything. You chose to do that because you can't comprehend the fact that your now 30 year old son isn't your property." This dude is just young, free and living his best no contact life with his super cool, lawyer girlfriend. Literally nobody reasonable was concerned for his safety.
This is a woman who doesn't know how to apologise because she genuinely can't conceive of a scenario where she could be at fault. That snide comment "lord forbid I care about him" actually infuriates me. This woman has admitted to running her own son out of his hometown after attempting to ruin his relationship, using his father and sister as informants against him till he had to cut them off too, and paying a stranger to stalk him. This poor guy has had his life absolutely torn apart by this bitter hag of a mother. He had to orphan himself from his entire family when he was barely 20 years old to protect himself from this utter nutcase, and she has the fucking audacity to say "God forbid I..." as if she has experienced any consequences for any of her own truly unhinged behaviour.
I don't care if she's old, if I see this twat, it's on sight.
The "Poor me" angle she's trying to run at this with is pretty pathetic and really transparent. I'm not sure who beleives she's an innocent victim, but this "I text him every day and they bounce because I've been blocked for seven years" shtick is boring and over dramatic. Especially when even the fact that the girl has a law degree is enough to provoke some weird, barely related attempt at a smug remark. She's clearly not too sad to be salty. When she's not coming off whiney and sad she's just coming across as bitter and jealous. It's not a good look and it's clearly not worked for her up till now, but she's committed to the bit and she's not gonna turn it around.
Her son is happy and she's just so mad about it.
Womp womp.
#estranged parents#estrangement#no contact#toxic parents#toxic mom#dysfunctional family#dysfunctional household#narcissistic abuse
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love elizabeth s.
#original poem#original quote#love elizabeth s#childhood#childhood trauma#trauma#mental health#parent trauma#estrangement#quotes#my poem#poetry#short poem#sylvia plath#dark acadamia quotes#virginia woolf#relatable quotes#poems and poetry#writeblr#mental illness#dead poets society#abuse#child abuse#inner child#sad poem#spilled ink#poetry community#books#booklr#book lover
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I think one of the fascinatingly horrible things about living through a traumatic childhood full of emotional neglect and abuse is that when you finally leave your family, your brain has to basically detox from all of the harmful chemicals.
Like, my sister had a mental breakdown a week into college because of how unprepared she was to live somewhere not under our mothers thumb. She felt so uncomfortable that she came back home. Even when she finally did return to college, a year later, she drove back and forth from our home to her college which was an hour away. It took her a long time to feel comfortable staying away from our childhood home for more than a day or two.
I spent the first month of college constantly fighting off panic attacks and hiding in my room because I felt some looming sense of dread. I couldn't even put my thumb on why except that I felt unmoored and exposed and afraid of all the people around me. I used to hide under my desk and repeat to myself over and over that I would be okay.
And like?? Normal people didn't deal with that. Their parents prepared them to leave the nest. My parents didn't prepare me for anything but more of their abuse. I spent so long dreaming about escape and being free from expectations and yet was wholly unprepared for the fear of the unknown, the fear of being able to safely be whoever I wanted to be.
#toxic parents#toxic family#toxic mother#dysfunctional family#toxic mom#childhood trauma#estrangement
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#toxic parents#emotional abuse#child abuse#child neglect#abandonment#black sheep#scapegoating#estrangement#dysfunctional family
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My sisters do not look at me as much as I look at them.
She thinks that I am my mother’s favorite but they are each other’s favorite and I have nobody if not my mother. But my mother does not listen to me, so in reality, I truly have nobody.
My elder sister will not know how I make my fried rice. She will not know about my 6th grade unrequited love, about my favorite authors, and my talents. She will not know.
But I will know her like the back of my hand; I know how she loves watching true crime, I know how much she adores dogs and how particular she is about her stuff and I will take all of this to the grave.
(I do not want to, I think, but I feel more than that.)
I know how she’s still hungry after, in a fight with mother, she says she isn’t.
I know she is so I will stay behind and eat a little bit slower. I’ll whisper to mom hushedly, “I’ll wipe the table and wash the dishes” to get her off my back, even if I don’t want to, but because I want my sister to eat.
I see her and she doesn’t see me. Or, she does see me but she doesn’t understand me. She looks at me like I’m darkness looming through her and she looks at me like I’ve somehow ruined her life and I don’t know what I’ve done.
I haven’t done anything but it’s almost like I’ve died in my mother’s womb, and I am now just a ghost haunting them for when I speak they respond but their arms dig past my heart and instead of feeling through me, they feel past me.
I’m here and they’re choosing to ignore me.
I’m here and it’s like I’ve never been.
I stand on my right foot and contort my body into a woman when I am barely a teenager, and I would do so again and again just for her to see me.
I would tear my body in half for her to see me for me.
I am afraid that she will only do so when my body has long decomposed in its casket and she receives my folder of files just like this one, detailing how I’ve felt.
Shivers may pass through her veins, and instead of satisfaction, she will feel guilt. She will feel rotten and disgusting. I do not want that.
I am torn into bits and pieces and my lungs have been removed and yet I am still breathing and I am already inexplicably dead when I feel shame for dying out of guilt for living.
#poeming#pem#poem#potry#NOT POTTERY#poetry#man#family issues#youngest sister#i crave validation#estrangement#trying#trying to be a good sister#(somehow failing.)#i love my sister#i love my sisters#kinda vent#this is a cry for help#banana phone
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