This came across my Tumblr and I have thoughts.
I can not remember a time in my life when I felt like the man who was my father loved me. He spent my entire childhood, indeed he spent every day until I ended contact with both my parents when I was in my 40s, bullying and hurting me. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him, and he made sure I knew it.
And my mother, who stole my childhood from me and forced me to work when I was seven, always made me apologize to him when he hurt me.
The very few times I spoke up to defend myself, or tried to say this wasn’t okay, or ever challenged his endless cruelty to me, he would blow up at me, fly into a rage, while she stood by and said nothing. By the time I was in my teens, I recognized this impotent rage for what it was, and I learned how to not react to it. It turns out that passive resistance was effective, I guess, because after he ran out of rage energy, he would pout and sulk. Then he would ignore me for a blissful day or two, before my mother would start the campaign of manipulation to make me apologize to him, because I’d upset him so much. And don’t I love my dad? Nothing is more important than family, Wil. Don’t you love your family?
The thing is, I never did anything wrong. I was never the aggressor. I was a child, reacting to cruelty and bullying from a man I desperately wanted to love me. I never broke any bonds between us, because he never built them in the first place. I watched him forge bonds with my brother, so I knew he was able to give love to his children, he was just choosing to withhold it from me. And my mother’s solution to this was for me to apologize to him more, apologize harder, be more, be better, be the best. Solve the impossible puzzle and I would be loved and valued just like my brother was. It was all on me. I had to do it alone.
I wasted three decades of my life trying to figure out the right way to apologize to that motherfucker so he would finally love me, before I figured out that he will never love me. He made that choice about 50 years ago and nothing I can do will change that, because it was never about me in the first place.
I just realized that my mother never even acknowledged how much, or how frequently, my dad hurt me.
It’s not like she didn’t know. I told her about it a bunch of times, and I know she saw it happen frequently. She was there when he screamed at me, called me names in front of my friends, jabbed me in the sternum with his finger, daring me to stand up for myself. She was there for all of it, and she pretends that none of it ever happened. And if it did, it was my fault.
I tried to confide in her. I tried to enlist my mother to help me deal with my father, and she was unwilling or unable to do a thing to take care of me, her son. I have no memory at all of her ever telling me she was sorry for how I felt when I confided in her, or that it wasn’t my fault, or suggesting that we sit down with him to talk, or anything like that. I can only remember her telling me (directly or by manipulation) that it was my responsibility to somehow win back his favor. She never protected me, never stood up for me, never even acknowledged that what I was experiencing was real. Gaslighted me about it for literal decades after I had realized she was never going to admit that her husband abused her son while she did nothing to stop it.
When he was … I want to say 68? Right before I divorced them, she proudly told me, “Your father is finally working on his empathy…” Okay, she admits he’s never had any empathy, but if I’d just apologized more, you see…
Jesus. What a shitty mom. What a selfish, shitty mom. After everything she took from me, she couldn’t be bothered to stick up for me when I was hurting in my own home. No wonder I spent so much of my life feeling like a thing to them, and not a son.
I know I’m not the only person in the world who has felt or feels this way, and I wonder if I could have saved myself at least some suffering and pain if I’d figured out sooner than I did that he was never going to love me, doesn’t even like me, never made an effort to get to know me, and that none of that has anything to do with me.
It’s hard not to take it personally, but what other choice do I have? I can not repair a bond I never broke, that probably wasn’t even there in the first place, because it has nothing to do with me. It’s just extremely bad luck to be born to a narcissist and his codependent enabler.
I guess I need to remind myself, and anyone else who needs to hear it today, that it isn’t, wasn’t, and will never be about me as a person. He doesn’t even know me, because he never made the effort. He hates me because he hates himself.
It sucks so much, and it’ll never not hurt at least a little bit. But I am doing everything I can to take care of myself, to be the person I needed and deserve. it is so important to remember that it’s not my fault. I didn’t do anything. He made a choice, she made a choice, and they’re both so selfish and emotionally immature, they don’t care how it affected me.
Because it wasn’t and isn’t about me, and I’m going to keep saying that until it stops hurting.
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was your divorce from your parents just in your head or did you have a ceremony. was it just words to yourself or did you let them know. if you did not formalize it outside of your mind, consider doing that, whether it be divorce papers you send to them or dancing around a fire as you burn something that represents the cruelty and abuse. set it to rest. my dad was always a bully and enforced his rulings with a belt to the point of leaving bruises. at 16 after my mum declared that all fags should be shot, i decided to grow up different from them, to be nothing like them. my failure was keeping in touch even though i did not share my life they did not want to see. even though they are dead, it is likely time for my divorce ceremony as well. wish i had thought of divorce 40 years ago.
It wasn’t.
And isn’t.
About you.
⭐
I feel the same way about my family. My parents were the exact opposite of yours though. Mine were detached and absent. Even when they were there, they were checked out. I always found it strange that as I child I would get home from school and I’d be alone. My brother was a lot older, so he was out a lot as well Later in the evening when they were home, they’d be off doing their own things. My brother and I were never able to pull them away and get the attention we craved.
It’s what lead me to develop certain mental tendencies and illnesses that were not okay. I very quickly became emotionally detached from myself and others for a very long time in order to cope with things. As bad as it was, it was probably the only thing that kept me alive through my teenage years and there were a few close calls when my mental illnesses flared up.
Over the years I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ve never had parents or a family. They were never there to parent me and we never lived together as family. We lived in the same house, but separate. Like you said, there probably wasn’t ever a bond there and I really don’t think I’d want one today if that was an option.
Every time you write you impress me. Take care of yourself, you seem to be doing an amazing job of that, all things considered.
I cannot understand how any parent would not offer their child unconditional love. You don’t need sympathy from me Wil, but you have it anyway, and the manner in which you have pushed on and carried yourself, despite the attitude of your parents, speaks volumes as to your character.
“Because it wasn’t and isn’t about me, and I’m going to keep saying that until it stops hurting.” Thanks for sharing your thought process and jedi hugs. I’ve been in a funk for a while trying to move on, and I needed to hear this. You rock!
Well said.
IMO it never stops hurting, even after they die. It just hurts a whole lot less.
Peace.
I was asked by my therapist why my mother abused me. I don’t want to even try to understand why, because it comes awfully close to assigning an excuse and what she did was inexcusable.
And yet, when I read your post, I can’t help but wonder if your mother was maybe also a victim of your father and therefor forwarded that victimisation towards you. It’s no excuse, but it may be helpful to put her behaviour into context? I think that maybe I should take my own advice. Food for thought and I hate thinking about her. Ugh…
Hang in there, Wil. You’re valid, it wasn’t your fault and your decisions that support your self preservation are healthy. <3
Boomers suck. They just pretty much all suck. And they were pretty much just all shitty parents.
I dunno why some folks can let it go and some can’t. The day I decided my narcissistic father was just an asshole I just let him out of my life. But like for real. I just don’t really ever think about him. And if he does pop into my head I just don’t care. I mean caring is a choice. Letting someone occupy your time, even just time thinking about them, is a choice. And I chose not to have him around, even in my head.
I dunno, maybe that’s just a mental trick some people have and some people don’t. But like, there’s gotta be a way to stop having that dude live in your head.
Keep in mind that without “Boomers” you wouldn’t have genetic engineering, “Star Wars,” the Beatles, MRIs, MTV, artificial hearts, the internet, modern electronics, “The Simpsons,” treatments for cancer, cell phones, Stephen King, iPads, the Space Shuttle, the Hepatitis-B vaccine, Tom Cruise, Doppler radar, the scanning electron microscope, green energy, Windows, and so many other pioneering aspects of science and culture since the mid-60s. I think it’s fair to say that the contributions that those who were born between ‘45 and ‘64 have created a definitive sociocultural foundation from which every other generation since has either benefitted from or has built upon.
So no. Boomer don’t suck. 😉
“Evil begins when you begin to treat people as things.”
-Terry Pratchett
I’m sorry your parents were evil and I’m proud of your growth.
Weirdly, this poem comforts me. And no I didn’t have any kids.
This Be The Verse
By Philip Larkin
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
I bought your book a week ago (at a Barnes and Noble not far from where our area’s first ‘mass’ (OK, ‘only’ 2 victims other than himself) mass shooting happened a day later.
You have to wonder what kind of relationship this young guy had with HIS parents. And … anyway, having not made it far into the book, you seem… well, somewhat consumed with the hate of how your parents treated you.
I come at this from the place of a kid whose mother jumped off a Philadelphia high-rise and killed herself when I was 9. (I could write a book on that alone.) So as I’ve said MANY times over the decades, “I could be a lot more screwed up than I am.” (Couldn’t we all?;-)
Enjoying the book, don’t get me wrong. Wow, all those long footnotes reminds me of how my conversations go all over the place as my brain – goes where it goes. And my wife, a No. 1 Star Trek fan, LOVES your Ready Room segments.
But I sure hope, as I visit your site for the first time, and this is the first post I’ve seen,you’re not consumed with the past. Tricky balancing act, to not dwell but to vent in … healthy fashion? We can’t change the past, and often can’t ever understand it – it’s like God, whom even pastors often say is “beyond all understanding.” And yet we keep trying to, because … we’re all human, for better and… not so good.
Godspeed, Wil.
In a kid’s mind, it has to be their fault when their parents are fucked up (they are the grown ups after all).. Once one reaches some form a maturity, the hard work of untangling that in your head begins.
Growing up, I was my mom’s kid and my older brother was my dad’s kid. When she was killed when I was 16, my dad all of a sudden had to actually raise a son he didn’t have a clue about. What I do remember is that he and I would have these really angry fights and I would always be the one to apologize just to keep peace in the home. In many ways, I had to be the grown up.in the house.
I really appreciate you bringing this into the open so that people that have gone through the same thing don’t feel so alone. It’s a tough thing to cut off contact like that, when there’s still a kid inside that wants a dad.
Sometimes the hard work of facing the past and unpacking it is productive to healing. Does this create a sense of obligation, a feeling that walking away from your demons is the same as shirking the hard work of healing? It’s not the same. You have permission to walk away. Your demons want to keep you in the past where they have all the power. Come back to the present where you are loved and valued.
Hello, I came upon your blog via the SYSCA newsletter, and my heart goes out to you upon reading about the painful experiences you had growing up with parents who sadly didn’t show you the warmth, care and unconditional love you deserve. I’m a clinical psychologist, and I was struck by how hard you must have had to work on your own mental health and boundary setting to be where you are with these matters today. No doubt this is still a struggle some days, but I just wanted to commend you for facing into hard things whilst showing yourself compassion and self-respect. Your journey is an inspiring one.
I survived a dysfunctional relationship with my parents that brought me to depression, dysthymia, and anxiety. I’m 42 and this year I made a choice: I started therapy and stopped accusing myself for all I’ve been through. I also survived relentless bullying and harassment by school mates years ago. I buried everything deep in myself and I was not getting out alive. Now I’m getting better because I finally focused on what made me suffer and not believe in myself in all these years. Reading your books and listening to your interviews, podcasts, and audiobooks inspired me and showed me there is a way out. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for you being you, Wil! (Can I call you Wil?)
Sure is dusty around here. Seein’ some cobwebs starting to form up on the rafters of the page. Boards is startin’ ta creak as well…
Your dad was not a good person. Your mom enabled him. Take a step back and let go of your past. You are a great writer and a good person.
I know I’ve said this before but, somehow you manage to post the thing I need to see or hear right when when I need it.
About a week before this went up, I came to the hard decision that I had to let go of what is left of my blood family. I didn’t like it and I still don’t, but it became quite obvious to me that they did not consider me part of the family and did not want a relationship. Previous to this I had tried everything I could think of to try to keep this connection to them because I wanted it.
I won’t lie. I hate it. Its really sucks a lot and it hurts to have to let go of it and effectively become an orphaned only child. Having said that, I am proud of the fact that I had the strength to do it. I don’t know if I would have even five years ago.
Thank you, internet friend, for being the voice that I need when I need it, even if it is by pure chance.
I’m so sorry. Nate Postlewait is a great follow on Instagram and Facebook, and there’s a woman called the holistic psychologist. They both address stuff that continues to be very helpful for me.
I wish you healing.
Thank you for voicing this,and all others commenting,for years i suffered alone(back in the 70/80s ppl didnt talk about this, especially if you were a Guy)realizing this was an ongoing struggle for many,helped ease my pain-i wasnt alone,i wasnt weird!
Took me years to see this -it was never about me,it wasnt my fault.
I just recently learned that you suffer from CPTSD and came across your blog. My husband also suffers from CPTSD. It is an agony I would not wish on anyone. The hopelessness, fear, anxiety, depression, anger, frustration, guilt, and self loathing are so pervasive that they consume our whole life and relationship. It is exhausting. But tonight I saw you on an episode of celebrity Jeopardy and you had excitement and joy in your eyes. You were able to talk about your struggle without going to that deep dark place or dissociation. It gave me a glimmer of hope to see that it’s possible to take control of this awful beast. If I may ask, what resources are most helpful to you? Where do you turn in a moment of crisis? Thank you for sharing your struggles and helping those affected by this disease to not feel so alone.