#i’m gaslighting myself into thinking i feel fine bc i have something important coming up this week and i CANNOT miss it

[chrollogy]

oh i think i’m falling ill again _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

[newhologram]

I've been doing some thinking and realizing just how far back this all goes. Those of you who know me and my family IRL may have a hard time believing the emotional abuse and gaslighting because whenever you've met them, they seemed fine. They may have even bragged about me to you which made you think that they thought very highly of me. They also may have neglected to inform you that I have been disabled by chronic illness the past 10 years (many of my other family members had no idea until they spoke to me personally. It's... really fucking weird? To just not tell anyone that your offspring is in bed all day in horrible pain and constantly at the doctor/ER?). Unfortunately this is also part of the gaslighting, putting on a persona of parental perfection so that no one believes me when I try to talk about it. Instead people, even within my family, make excuses for the abuse and say that I should just be grateful. Behind closed doors it's always been very different. In the event that me processing this in private spaces gets out to them (which WILL endanger me): This isn't about *~exposing~* or *~revenge~* or *~punishment~*, it's about putting the pieces together and saying, yeah, I'm right to finally put my foot down about the way I have been treated. This is my experience. This is my trauma. I'm finally claiming that after a lifetime of being told that these experiences and my pain around them are apparently "not real" (gaslighting). By talking about this, I am not victimizing myself, but empowering myself. Because none of this treatment was ever my fault. None of it was ever deserved. And none of this is to be blamed on my "response" to abuse. I hope that by talking about this I can paint a picture of the dynamic and inspire investigation into the health of your own family dynamics too. "But they're family" is literally what enables this kind of abuse to continue. And I'm done. My health and survival is more important than upholding a toxic family system. They're learning that the hard way, finally. I don't think my family members are bad people. I truly do love and care for them. They have some amazing qualities. They love animals and they've come a long way to now being LGBTQ+ allies even if they don't always use the right words. But they have a lot of flaws that most likely come from their own trauma... But these aren't just self-contained flaws. Because I am the one who will be undoing the damage for the rest of my life. I don't know if they will ever go to therapy themselves, but I certainly won't be waiting around for them to work on themselves if it means I'm going to continue to be mistreated and re-traumatized. - It's always been this way but things definitely got worse in my home when I became disabled (possibly bc it triggered insecurities in them?). Both parents ignored me to my face all my life. I'd say or ask something, and there'd be no response most of the time. If I said, "hey, I'm talking to you, that's rude" they would blow up at me about "WHAT. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY. I HAVE THINGS ON MY MIND OKAY I HAVE MY OWN LIFE". This happened even when I was a literal child. I grew up believing that nothing I had to say was worth hearing and that if they ignored me that it was because I was unimportant and annoying. But if I ignore them or take too long to respond because I'm thinking, they scold me me about being rude, that they are my parents and I need to respect them. My emotions and pain have been invalidated since I was a child too. I would get picked up from afterschool care, or my bully's house, and of course I'd be crying from enduring a day of bullying. I would say, "I didn't do anything to them, it's not fair." And my dad's response was always, "WELL GUESS WHAT LIFE'S NOT FAIR. WAIT UNTIL YOU'RE AN ADULT IN THE REAL WORLD." He has continued to say this to me on a regular basis whenever I am struggling, either with work, friends, relationships, a death, or my chronic illnesses. I wonder why he has never considered my world to be real? Why is my reality not real to him? What

makes that even more painful is that I was still sent day after day to the school where I was bullied, to afterschool care with my bullies, and to my bullies' homes. No matter how much I was always crying when they picked me up, they just kept sending me back. And then a few of my dad's girlfriend's had children who bullied me too. I literally could never escape it. If it wasn't that, his response to me crying about something would be, "YOU HAVE NOTHING TO CRY ABOUT. YOU'RE LIVING THE LIFE OF LUXURY HERE, YOU DON'T PAY RENT! JUST WAIT UNTIL YOU'RE OUT THERE HAVING REAL PROBLEMS!" Again, he said this to me when I was a 24 year old who was suddenly in the span of a year so disabled that I could barely work. I was scared for my future, because I had taken the time to educate myself about my illnesses, and I knew that things were going to be hard for me. What I needed was support, not "tough love" and emotional invalidation. I was also scared of the situation I am in now. I was scared that I was going to be too sick to afford to move out and that by age 30 I would still be stuck at home with a parent who did not see my reality, my pain, as real. I am living that and it's not fun. Whenever I tried to talk to him about this invalidation, it just turned into a fight, because he refuses to admit the things that he said, and says things like "That's a You Problem" which he has said since I was a child in response to him hurting my feelings. I have always thought it was worth the effort to communicate to my loved ones this sort of issue, because that's what I was taught at school. If there's an issue, you talk about it. But my family doesn't believe that I guess. - When I first got sick, I was throwing up a lot. It had built up over several years since I was 19 but then after I was officially diagnosed with my Big 4 (colitis/fibro/ME/narcolepsy) I started having really dangerous vomiting attacks. The first attack I had lasted 6 days. I lost 12lbs. I overheard my dad complaining on the phone to a friend that I was keeping him up all night throwing up. I felt so bad for bothering him, I had learned to value his comfort over mine. But after the third day of nonstop vomiting, I told my dad I needed to go to the ER, that something was wrong. He sighed and rolled his eyes and said I didn't need to go. He was so annoyed with me for being sick. I was completely pale. I hadn't eaten anything. I could barely keep water down. I argued but he wouldn't listen. I went back to throwing up, at this point just dry-heaving. A while later I said, "I'm taking myself to the ER." I grabbed my car keys and my dad stopped me. He said, "That's ridiculous, you aren't driving yourself to the ER, I'll do it." But he still wouldn't take me for some reason. I don't know if he just didn't want to pay the copay or what. But I was literally trapped. I tried to fight it and said, "If you're going to take me, then take me. If not, let me take myself." I kept throwing up for three more days before he finally agreed to take me. The ER was packed so I ended up going to urgent care, where the nurse scolded me. She said I really should've gone to the ER after the third day of vomiting. She said that if I had gone a 7th day I could have collapsed. I didn't know how to tell her that I had tried. She asked where my family was and I said my dad had to go to work so he had just dropped me off. She had tears in her eyes and she held my hand. She said, "he should be here with you." THAT is how sick I was. That year, I went to the ER three more times. Each time I would be sobbing and ashamed of myself just for bothering my dad and for him having to pay the copay since I was too sick to earn the money myself. Again, that's how little I had learned to value myself and my health. By my birthday that year, I was suicidal from this shame. A few months later, in the new year, I started having vomiting attacks again. My dad stood over me while I was hunched over the toilet gagging and he said something I will never be able to forget, "You need to snap out of it

because I can't go through this again." He was the victim of my illness. He was the victim of my pain. This year was when my dad told me that he and his gf had been "talking" and that they had decided it was "time for me to be independent". He said they'd even help me find an apartment. I cried and said, "Dad, I'm sick. I've been so sick the past year. How am I supposed to afford even splitting rent with a roommate when I'm in bed in a neckbrace all day long?" and his response was, "But your dad needs his bachelor pad." I couldn't even identify what I was feeling. I was so shocked. Did he really think having the apartment to himself so he could have girls over was more important? But he was always telling me that I was the most important person in his life. I was so confused.

He gave me a time frame to move out and I was terrified. I thought my life was over. But most of all, I thought, "it's not fair to my dad that I'm sick." I thought so little of myself and my pain because that is what I learned as a kid. I blamed myself for not being "strong enough" to power through these debilitating illnesses. I blamed myself for my dad's money troubles. I literally could not live with myself knowing that my dad had to support me. I was so ashamed that I learned to vomit quietly so that he wouldn't notice. I was in a constant state of suicidality for several years after this. And it's no wonder, because year after year my dad has barged into my room to harass me about "it's time to be a Real Adult! It's time for you to Contribute to the household! You need to Make Money! I'm HEMORRHAGING money supporting you! I'm having to use my savings!" and because I was too sick to do this, I felt like a complete failure who did not deserve to live. I was self-harming constantly because I hated myself for "doing this" to my father. He had convinced me that I was the villain. I would start freaking out about money, forcing myself to work even if it meant vomiting literally on set (and almost being sent home bc of it, but I insisted I was fine to work). But I still couldn't make enough to afford my medical expenses. So I would shame-spiral and be suicidal again and then suddenly the story would change. My dad did a complete 180 and said, "Why are you even worried about money? We're doing fine. Even if I didn't have to support you, it wouldn't make that big of a difference in the money that I spend on this household. Don't worry about it." And then as soon as bills were due, he was back to telling me that I needed to make money. Back to saying we spent too much money on food despite me not eating that much. Back to refusing to try shopping somewhere cheaper when I suggested ways to save money. When I brought this up to my therapist back then, she said, "He's giving you mixed messages. Maybe you should bring this up to him so he realizes he's doing it." But when I did bring it up, of course my dad denied doing this and called me ungrateful even as I worked two jobs. When I eventually got a third job (fucking up my health more) to pay off my medical debt, my dad patted my back and told me how proud he was. When I told my therapist that he denied it, she suggested I bring him in so she could help us communicate. When I asked him to come with me to therapy, he got angry and said, "I am NOT going to therapy with you, that is ridiculous." But even with those 3 jobs it still wasn't enough and I was constantly being pulled between "YOU HAVE TO MAKE MONEY RIGHT NOW END OF THE WORLD" and "uhh why are you even worried about money, you need to work your mindset..." When bugged about money I would ask, "What else do you want me to do? I'm working 3 jobs. I'm not hiding money from you. I'm sending you everything that is leftover after I pay my own bills. I've even been buying a lot of my own food, I've been living off ramen and cans of ravioli." And he never had an answer except "just make more money." -- Now to the dynamic I'm currently living in. My dad moved his gf and her dog in without talking to me about it to see if it was going to impact my health. She was only supposed to stay here for maybe 4-5 days while she figured out a new home situation. But when I asked my dad about it in the days leading up to her arrival, suddenly the answer was "oh, she's staying indefinitely." I had no say in it. But we had a talk about what I needed to make this work. I said to my dad that the most important thing was that I have some scheduled quiet time. If I'm recording content or editing audio, I'm going to need quiet that morning so I can get my work done. If I'm resting, I need there to not be shouting or slamming doors happening in the house. He assured me that this was fine and that it'd all be easy for the three of us. The first weekend she was moved in, I let my dad know that I was editing audio that morning and needed

some quiet. He was cheerful and said, "No problem!" I thought wow, this is different. This is nice! This is going to be great for my productivity and health. As soon as I started editing, his gf was blasting music in the kitchen (right next to my room) and they were both laughing and talking loudly just a few steps away from my door. I thought, okay, we talked about this. But I'll just power through. When I was done, I went to my dad and said in a calm manner, "Hey, so this morning I let you know ahead of time that I was editing audio but there was still a ton of music and stuff in the kitchen, so it made it take a lot longer for me." His eyes immediately went dark. He put on an angry parent voice and said, "Okay, I am about to pop. I have enough going on without worrying about making too much noise for you." I said, calmly still, "We talked about this, though, and you assured me it wasn't a problem that I needed this quiet time for editing. So I'm not sure what to do. I'm just letting you know that there was still loud music right next to my room even though we had talked about it." He responded, "Then you need to be more specific because I don't know what you're doing in there." I corrected, "But I told you this morning that I was going to be editing audio and you said it was no problem to have some quiet in the kitchen while I did so." He got more aggressive, "No, you need to be more specific." Again, "I was specific. I told you the time frame that I was going to be editing audio in. You said you understood. I don't know what else to do to fix this other than by openly communicating to you about it." I started crying because--I mean, uhh?? This is gaslighting. I couldn't believe that mere hours after I had specifically told my dad that I was editing audio and that he had assured me it was no problem to have some quiet, that he was accusing me of not telling him what I needed, and that he had not agreed to it or something. Like wtf. He got nastier and blamed me for his stress. But me crying triggered his guilt so he tried to soothe himself by hugging me like he does and I pulled away. I tried to emphasize to him that I'm not just making content for fun. I'm literally trying to make money and contribute to the household like he has told me I need to do for the past 8 years. And when he disrupts my editing process, it just makes it take longer, and it makes it harder for me to earn extra money. His gf was also super rude to me when I tried to be friendly and have a conversation with her. I was telling her about how great it felt to have my sister initiate a conversation about my gender identity and she interrupted me (like she does constantly) to say, "YOU KNOW YOUR SISTER DOESN'T ACTUALLY GIVE A SHIT, RIGHT?" (wtf...) After this, I didn't speak to them for three days. I was feeling the urge to self-harm that whole weekend and all I could do was stay in bed crying after that. I knew if I spoke to them I would just get triggered so I was protecting myself. My dad felt guilty and tried to talk to me in my room. I tried to explain how triggering this whole situation is for me and he said he would do anything to make it easier for me. I had told him what I needed but that he had gaslighted me about it. - This next and last part is going to illustrate the priorities in this household. A few years ago, I started having problems with hives. I spent almost a whole year having very painful breakouts all over my body. It kept me up all night and caused me so much discomfort during the day. I kept telling my dad about it (no response, or annoyed responses), I went to the doctor several times about it (useless ointments), and suffered month after month. I tried so many things, I thought maybe it was bugs, spiders, etc. My asthma was also acting up and I remembered that an ex-neighbor had been suspicious of mold because of their health issues getting better the second they moved out. They had told me back then that we should test for mold. I brought it up to my dad that I had been suffering from this for

long enough and that we should do something about it (mold also makes fibromyalgia and ME way worse). He angrily snapped, "What do you want me to do about it?" I suggested we ask the landlord to mold test the apartment. He refused bc he doesn't like to bother the landlord. I said that I would just order a mold kit myself and he said, "No, let me do it, I'll pick the right one." But he wouldn't even after I kept reminding him. Even after I sent him links to mold kits that we could order. After I got rid of my mattress, my hives got a lot better but I still have issues every now and then. For years I have just lived with this because I couldn't get him to even care about the fact that I was spotted with these big pink hives. When his gf moved in, we had a random rainy day, which seems to have activated the mold. His gf got one tiny little hive and the sniffles. She said to him once, "Hey, I think you have mold in this house." Want to guess what happened after that? You're right. He immediately ordered several mold test kits. I said to my therapist, "How am I supposed to feel about that? Is it really unreasonable, am I really in the wrong to feel hurt by that?" My therapist said, "I mean, I would feel completely invalidated and like I didn't matter." This isn't the first time empathy has been withheld from me obviously (above examples during my flare ups), but sometimes even when it's right in front of him he just can't bring himself to care for some reason. One time a big piece of glass was in my thumb. I said, "Ahhh, glass, help! Glass!" He was eating snacks in the kitchen and just glanced at me, didn't move or say anything. I realized he wasn't going to help, so shaking and bleeding, I managed to pull the glass out with tweezers very painfully. It bled so much and I stood over the sink trying to stop it. My dad just kept eating his snacks, not asking if I was okay or anything, he didn't even look at me. After 5 minutes I still couldn't get the blood to stop and asked my dad if he could help, maybe get me some gauze. He put food in his mouth and sighed, "Just put pressure on it" and walked away. It feels like he's just disgusted with me. I know that he does love me and that he's trying the best he can with all of his mental/emotional/personality flaws but he thinks that just because he puts a roof over my head that he can treat me however he wants and not work on his issues, that it's my fault for being hurt. He thinks that his issues are all on me to learn to endure and it's not right. I know that he resents me for getting in the way of him having a relationship because that's the only message I have gotten since childhood, with every woman he's brought into my home. But in the end his relationships always fall apart because the woman ends up realizing, and stating to him, that he is "emotionally absent". And every time, I comfort my dad through the break up. When he has tried to blame his ex I said once to him that therapy can really help him with his emotional issues and relationships. But he refuses, so. That's on him. But I refuse to believe that I am in the wrong here for saying enough is enough. But he's going to keep trying to make me believe that the problem is just me and my feelings, not his behavior. Nope. Boundary is up. I just have to keep to myself and do what I need to do to stay safe until I can move out. Because I guarantee you he's going to realize he doesn't get enough validation from his gf and then come running back to me as always and then be angry that I'm still holding my boundary strong. I know that this will hurt less as I get distance from it, but I don't like the idea of my pain being my fault when I grew up with this toxic stuff. I'm working so hard to make it hurt less but I can't heal if it keeps happening, so all I can do is back away from what is hurting me instead of being surprised when I'm hurt again. THAT is on me 100%. Hopefully he doesn't grab my desk and slam it against the wall again like in 2014 when I first tried to set this boundary. And of course when he

"apologized" he accused me of "punishing him" by not spending time with him. Jee-zus, dude. Get therapy. I can't be the only one in this family bearing this weight and working on my shit.

[dwindlingashesburnt]

How long do the shields stay down?

This is something I think is really really important for you to be aware of if you're in a situation that's bad for you or are just doing kinda shit in any way - physical, mental, emotional, whatever. And I'm including stuff like food, shelter, sleep under physical for the sake of this

And that is this - at some point your body and or mind will almost definitely try to protect you by shielding you from it. When it's mental or emotional this is typically a very long term thing to keep you safe that you have to actively unlearn, as is physical stuff like training yourself not to flinch or stuff like that. When it's a lack of something physical like sleep or food or so on, it's generally just intended to keep you going until you manage to get whatever it is you needed, at which point the shields should start falling on their own pretty quickly

But the obvious problem with this is that if you're being shielded from the problem, you don't know how bad said problem is. You might not even be sure what the problem is, or even worse, might not even be aware that there is a problem. This means that until those shields go down, you can't figure out what's wrong or how to fix it, and you may end up actually making the problem much worse without realising in the meantime

(That's the end of the general advice bit - which is important btw! - and now goes into my own stuff, which isn't important except to me cos it's mostly just venting so feel free to stop reading at this point)

I rediscovered this yesterday night.

Every time I get this badly worn down, it always happens exactly the same way - I've already been apathetic and tired for quite a while, low on sleep, and been constantly tense for a long time, but bc I'm apathetic and can't sleep, I stay up watching videos on youtube for far too long. At some point, I find myself actually in quite a bit of pain and only then realise it's because I'm so incredible tense, and at this point I start finding it to be a real struggle to focus my vision or pick out the voices and concentrate enough to really watch videos. A while after this, I normally find that I'm shaking uncontrollably, and acknowledge to myself that it's most likely a mixture of a shitty mental place, being so tense for so long, and utter exhaustion. So to double check, I put some simple music on that doesn't require much focus, close my eyes and focua on going limp - I know that if my own thoughts fade to absolutely nothing while the singing drifts through my mind, and that I lose ALL tension and start melting into the bed...This means I'm on the point of passing out and or veering into dangerously sleep deprived suicidal ideation type territory, and need to sleep stat.

And this is the part that really alarms me - before I go to bed I need to put the light on so I don't trip, put my phone on charge, go to the bathroom and have a drink of water. Before sitting up at this stage I am AWAYS exhausted, noticably shaking, struggling to focus my vision beyond a blur, and so mentally wiped out I can barely string a single thought together, not to mention thirsty, empty, and feeling tired down to my bones, off balance and like I want to either pass out or start sobbing any second.

But by the time I get back into bed I'm always seemingly fine, if not better than when I first started watching videos - and this fucking scares me.

Because that switch happens in less than five or so minutes! Nothing has changed in that time, I am still on the borderline of passing out, I am still exhausted, I am still in an absolute shit place both mentally and emotionally and quite frequently in the middle of a relapse, and god knows what else. NOTHING HAS CHANGED I'm just far too good at putting up a front even to myself, and so practiced at it I just do it automatically- even though this normally happens around 2am or 1am when there is absolutely nobody to put up a front for!

And when I get back in bed, if I didn't remember exactly how bad I had been not ten minutes before, even I wouldn't realise there was any issue whatsoever! Let alone an issue THAT bad

That means that every time I walk into the bathroom and instantly feel sluggish thoughts crawling through my mind and then rapidly speeding up to a somewhat normal speed, every time I fill my water bottle and watch as my hands go from shaking so bad I dropped my phone and struggled to take out my earphones to not shaking at all, every time I stand and feel the majority of the tension leave and my shoulders force themselves up and back into more of a slouch and less a slump, every time I realise my vision is suddenly clear enough to be able to plug my phone in, and balance good enough to safely walk past the landing...It scares the fucking shit out of me.

I don't make any conscious, or as far as I'm aware, unconscious decision to do this, to put up this front - it just fucking happens without my input, automatically. That's terrifying because it suggests it's going to be difficult or even impossible to stop this, or any lesser form of this, from happening in the future

It also alarms me that it tricks me, that it goes so far as forcing my thoughts and mindset to shift, and that it happens when I'm entirely alone and safe. That's fucking scary - how do I stop it if I'm not even aware of it, if it's deep enough to change how my thoughts are happening, if no outside input seems to affect it? It's not a case of just, remove the bad input and I'll be fine - what do I do with that?!

Additionally, the fact that it's so thorough, tricks even me and happens without my input..I'm horribly aware that means that at more or less any moment I may be maintaining this front and not even realise. And I know for a fact it impacts my decisions...It makes me feel scared that maybe, maybe I'm hurting far more often and far more than I think, maybe I'm effectively lying most if not all of the time, maybe I'm making decisions I wouldn't if I wasn't shielding, maybe, maybe others don't even know me properly with this.

It's only maybe ten minutes total between music (shield down) and getting back in bed (shields up)

Sometimes I suddenly and very temporarily break free of this front, or apathy, or simple fear and nonoIcan't, and message my friends trying to tell them things I urgently want to share that I know I won't be able to when those shields come back up, so it's urgent and important.....And sometimes they don't reply in time and they ask something like, "what is it?" but I won't have the words anymore, or it won't seem important, or it will seem like the worst idea ever, or I'll struggle to even remember what "it" was, or I'll feel unable to say it

But every time I know I urgently wanted to say something, and now I can't because my mind and body is just, doing its damn best to protect me, which I appreciate but I just....But it also is awful because I don't know how to tell them in a way that makes sense "I'm sorry. You missed your ten minutes. I can't, I can't, I'm sorry - I want to but I can't. You missed it" so...so often I end up deflecting because at that point really do anything else

And usually in THAT kinda scenario it's not ten minutes (it may be anywhere from 2 minutes to 2 hours) but it never lasts too long so, so if they're not online or busy or caught up in another conversation etcetcetc......I lose the chance to be honest.

And I often don't get another chance to be really, truly honest, for LITERAL MONTHS

Apparently it's been determined that this is the best way to keep me safe and not in even worse health, but it's also incredibly isolating and I hate it

Quite often all I really want to say or do is more than a quickly passed over "I love you" and a brief hug - I want to be able to say "I love you. You're my best friend and I love you for this reason and this reason and this reason. You're amazing, and I love you - you help me in this way and this way and this way and I'm so grateful. If there's ever anyway I can ever help you or make you happy...Tell me. I want you to be happy. I love you - how could I not love you?"

And I CAN'T and I FUCKING CAN'T and I can't share any of the other stuff about my experiences or personality or relationships or opinions or anything that my brain has deemed "unsafe" BECAUSE OF ABSOLUTE PIECES OF SHIT WHO THINK IT'S SO FUCKING FUNNY TO BULLY AND BELITTLE AND GASLIGHT AND EMOTIONALLY ABUSE AND HURT AND IT'S NOT FAIR

The three biggest things for me, are affection, understanding, and being close to people

Do you know how much it fucking kills me to not be able to say EXACTLY how much I love everyone near me, because I was told so often that to love anyone and especially to love so freely, was am invitation to be hurt?

Do you know how alone and miserable and frustrated I get when I try to be understood and understand others and succeed in neither?

I nearly started crying one time because I was with my dad and sibling, and that was all, both of whom should be safe, and I started telling a funny story about one of our cats. And suddenly I just realised that the words coming out of my mouth weren't the truth. I knew damn well they weren't, and I hadn't been planning to lie at all, and I'd started off truthfully, but some stupid small part of me had started going "this isn't safe this isn't safe you'll be hurt they'll hurt you scream at you make you feel like you should be dead they'll make you cry then call you evil for it it's not safe it's not safe" so suddenly I realised the words coming out of my mouth weren't the ones I meant to say, and I tried to stop talking and it didn't work, and I tried to go back to how it actually happened or just my original story which was very very minorly altered (like 10% different from the truth) to keep me safe, but I couldn't and that scared me because I just kept talking, this version of the story that played up how cute and tiresome the cat was, that simultaneously diminished my part in it all and yet at the same time painted me as being silly and harmless and useful and entertaining and I just....I remember I freaked out a bit when I kept speaking even though I didn't want to, but that part of me was still going "not safe not safe not safe" and then I remember feeling for an instant like I was going to have to flee because I was about to start sobbing, but then I just felt some part of me shatter and go dim and silent and die. And suddenly I felt hollow and miserable and I was shielded again, and so I just kept talking even though later I cried about it and freaked out a lot and just...I hadn't even meant to lie. I was safe. I was among allies. It was a harmless story about a cat that didn't even feature me heavily and certainly didn't cast me in a bad light, but the entire time some part just kept chanting "not safe not safe they'll hurt you you musnt you cant you cant let them theyll hurt you its not safe its not safe its not safe"

And that fucking kills me

[iloveroadhog]

(THE USER SUBMITTING THIS ASKED ME TO LEAVE THIS ANONYMOUS, SO I’M REPOSTING IT!)

REPOSTED MESSAGE IS BELOW, UNDER THE READMORE

WARNING FOR: PARENTAL ABUSE, GASLIGHTING AND PARENTAL NEGLECT OF THEIR CHILD’S MENTAL/PHYSICAL WELLBEING.

I’M GLAD YOU FINALLY MADE THE DECISION TO GO ABOUT YOUR LIFE AND GET AWAY FROM THE TOXICITY, LOVEY!!! IT TAKES A LOT OF COURAGE TO STAND UP AND MAKE THAT KIND OF CHOICE AND I’M BEHIND YOU 100%!!!

BEING PREPARED AND MAKING SURE YOU’RE READY AND COMFORTABLE ENOUGH TO TAKE THAT LEAP IS IMPORTANT, TOO. BUT I PROMISE, GETTIN AWAY FROM TOXIC PARENTS ISN’T AS SCARY AS THEY MAKE IT OUT TO BE

I’M FLATTERED THAT I WAS THE FIRST PERSON YOU TOLD ABOUT THIS!!! IT MEANS A LOT TO HEAR THAT. I HOPE THE LEGAL PAPERWORK IS SORTED OUT QUICKLY AND SIMPLY!!!! GOOD LUCK LOVEY, I’M CHEERIN YOU ON!!

So uh, I’m very neurodivergent and pansexual and nonbinary (oh my!) and have been in a v psychologically and emotionally abusive familial situation for years now. My friend had been bringing up the legal process of emancipation (me becoming my own legal guardian) for a while, and their family has even offered to help me out with it (financially and giving me a place to stay). Well, I had been on the fence about it up until this past week. Last night was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. I had dissociated really badly two days before; I apparently was able to realize I was dissociating and sent messages to my friend about it, I drew and wrote my thoughts/what I was able to process in my sketchbook, and while my friend was at school and not responding I messaged another v nice tumblr user on anon asking for validation/a reminder that I was real human being. That was the same day as my maternal unit’s birthday. I came home still dissociating and entirely unreceptive to touch. I only barely remember typing the message to the tumblr user and then coming back to full consciousness laying on my bed in my underwear (I think I undressed myself, my maternal unit said nothing about having to undress me). Luckily I didn’t really do anything major that I know of, and I was conscious enough that I was able to grab all of my things before leaving school (including the assignments I was unable to do during my last class), but I was unable to get my maternal unit anything for her birthday, including a card. The next day I stayed home bc the maternal unit and I both slept through our alarms and ended up playing video games all day while she was out shopping. When she came home we got into a smaller fight (she tried to use the fact that she drove me around to buy a video game earlier in the week as an excuse to talk to me really shitty-like and I forgot to take my medicine that helps me stay calm so I snapped back and called her out on it and she really didn’t like that), so by Saturday (chore day) tensions were already high. I got up in a decent enough mood, my legs weren’t bothering me yet (we have a family history of severe leg pains, and yes this is important) so I was listening to music and moving around a bit (I’m autistic and dancing and pacing are two of my stims). Later on though, (I don’t know if it’s the weather or what) as I get ready to start my chores, my depression and the leg pains start up. Horribly. My legs (and the rest of me) start shaking and I’m worried they’re going to collapse out from under me, but I try to power through it. All the while, the rest of the house is being loud and overstimulating so I take my phone and start to vent to my friend about it. My maternal unit did not like this, apparently, as she snapped at me about it, but I was able to hold my tongue and not say anything. I went back to my work, but my maternal unit was in such a mood that she ended up asking me for my broom and sweeping one of the rooms for me because she got tired of waiting. This all wouldn’t be so bad if she had just been nicer to me about it. I tried my damnedest to go on about my day and work like I usually do, but by the time I had almost finished my sweeping I felt like I was gonna collapse, so I sat down to take a breather and talk to my friend about it. My maternal unit began to shout at me from the next room for taking too long, I (angrily) got up and finished my work and then left, hoping for a proper breather on the couch before I had to start my next jobs (which involved handling breakable things, something I did not trust myself to do with my legs and hands as unsteady as they were). My maternal unit called me in to help her with taking down the Christmas tree, something which I knew would be awful considering the shape I was in, but I still tried, becoming frustrated with myself and her to the point of tears and just having to leave without a word to go calm down. I eventually had to come back and help more, almost sending myself sprawling as I tripped right in front of her, but she really didn’t acknowledge it past a flippant question about whether or not I was okay, so I finished doing what she asked me to with the tree and went back to hopefully get a few minutes of rest. Apparently this upset my maternal unit as she’d hoped I would do more, and even after I finally explained what was going on with me she continued to tell me to suck it up and deal with it, regardless of how shaky I was, even going so far as to start gaslighting me about the pain (“you’ve never mentioned this before”, “convenient how this comes up when I need you to do something”, “you were just fine earlier when you were pacing and dancing around and shit”). I have told her about the pain before, and was even hospitalized for several days when I was very young bc it made me collapse, so I know she’s trying to bullshit me. She continued this throughout the rest of the night, harping on me for my half-assed attempt at dusting (I lifted as few things as possible bc I was so worried about dropping or breaking it) and when she was angry about the way the plastic containers and lids were arranged in the cabinet after I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher she proceeded to throw them across the kitchen floor. She made very pointed passive-aggressive remarks about everything I did and when I finally ate and decided to go to bed (after venting play-by-play about everything to my friend and reassuring them I didn’t need them to call the mobile crisis hotline), she demanded entry to my room and then proceeded to berate and gaslight me all to hell as I sobbed and tried to defend myself the best I could through a panic attack and hyperventilating. She finally left, slamming my door behind her (I rushed to lock it after I was sure she had left) and I ended up crying and reading fanfics about you and Roadhog until I could calm down. The one thing that stuck with me about that fight was what she said after I confessed how she made me feel like I was never good enough. “Well maybe you ought to find a different place to live.” Well, now I am. That was the decisive factor. I’m talking to my therapist on Wednesday about it, and afterwards my friend, their mom and I are going to start the legal process of emancipation. I just wanted to tell somebody outside of all of this about it and you were the first person I thought of. You and Roadhog and Anahera take care, okay? And wish me luck in all this legal shit, bc I know I’m gonna need it!

P.S. to the followers reading this: you don’t have to deal with this from anyone, including your own families! Please, if you need anyone to talk to, there are Mobile Crisis hotlines that send people to your location to talk to you and deescalate the situation! They are not legally required to talk to your parent or guardian, and they can and will take you out of the situation if they feel you are in significant danger! Don’t hesitate to do it like I did guys!