My intense distress and meltdown over something that my mum minimised as an overreaction on my part, was the moment I knew there was nobody to protect me. Nobody to see me. Nobody cared enough about me to want to understand me and shield me from things that would hurt me.
In fact, it felt like my mum was colluding with the cause of my distress, to shame me into being more like her and my dad. My parents did that for decades until I was diagnosed, because it was at that point I stopped feeling shame for not being like them, they tried to ramp up their attacks on my way of being, and I cut contact.
Thank you for sharing this. My mom was similar in a lot of ways: quick to shame, slow to understand, often siding with what hurt instead of who was hurting. Yep I know that feeling when the child version of you realized no one was coming. It changes everything. I remember that moment; it's burned into my brain. I forget how old I was, maybe 8 or 9.
And cutting contact (I also cut mine out) doesn’t undo the years, but it does say: I see myself now, even if they never did.
It just always was so I didn't get what was missing, the subtle verbal and emotional abuse washed over me. As a teen silently screaming as another form of abuse occurred following a severe concussion. At 18 as an addict running away to get clean - I found a place where being a bit weird was fine but also many that could see that I was one of them from the type of abuse we shared even though it took me many years to know it.
Damn. That’s a whole life inside a few lines. The kind of pain that doesn’t show up in pictures. The kind that teaches you to read a room before you even speak. I hear what you're saying and glad you found even a glimpse of recognition, even if it came too late. That knowing is so vital.
I am realising this so late: I unmasked to release the years of pressure and thought I’d be more understood as being different…at the moment it seems unmasked me is not for anyone except 2/3 people. But…somehow…it feels a relief to not be pretending any more. At least some of the time it’s does. It’s a brutal realisation and I hope more acceptance will follow; in a different environment maybe. Till then, it’s basically me and my shadow and the dogs I see - a couple which I love. 🧡 🧡🐾🐾🧡
Thank you for reading and saying something most people stay silent about. There’s something honest and brave in letting go of the performance, even if it leaves the room emptier than expected. What you’re doing matters. Even if it’s just a few who see you now, that seeing is real, and you deserve it. It's the start of something better.
(My favorite mask is in a drawer somewhere. I keep opening it by accident 😆)
I realised no-one was coming when I was 7.
My intense distress and meltdown over something that my mum minimised as an overreaction on my part, was the moment I knew there was nobody to protect me. Nobody to see me. Nobody cared enough about me to want to understand me and shield me from things that would hurt me.
In fact, it felt like my mum was colluding with the cause of my distress, to shame me into being more like her and my dad. My parents did that for decades until I was diagnosed, because it was at that point I stopped feeling shame for not being like them, they tried to ramp up their attacks on my way of being, and I cut contact.
Thank you for sharing this. My mom was similar in a lot of ways: quick to shame, slow to understand, often siding with what hurt instead of who was hurting. Yep I know that feeling when the child version of you realized no one was coming. It changes everything. I remember that moment; it's burned into my brain. I forget how old I was, maybe 8 or 9.
And cutting contact (I also cut mine out) doesn’t undo the years, but it does say: I see myself now, even if they never did.
It just always was so I didn't get what was missing, the subtle verbal and emotional abuse washed over me. As a teen silently screaming as another form of abuse occurred following a severe concussion. At 18 as an addict running away to get clean - I found a place where being a bit weird was fine but also many that could see that I was one of them from the type of abuse we shared even though it took me many years to know it.
Damn. That’s a whole life inside a few lines. The kind of pain that doesn’t show up in pictures. The kind that teaches you to read a room before you even speak. I hear what you're saying and glad you found even a glimpse of recognition, even if it came too late. That knowing is so vital.
I am realising this so late: I unmasked to release the years of pressure and thought I’d be more understood as being different…at the moment it seems unmasked me is not for anyone except 2/3 people. But…somehow…it feels a relief to not be pretending any more. At least some of the time it’s does. It’s a brutal realisation and I hope more acceptance will follow; in a different environment maybe. Till then, it’s basically me and my shadow and the dogs I see - a couple which I love. 🧡 🧡🐾🐾🧡
Thank you for reading and saying something most people stay silent about. There’s something honest and brave in letting go of the performance, even if it leaves the room emptier than expected. What you’re doing matters. Even if it’s just a few who see you now, that seeing is real, and you deserve it. It's the start of something better.
(My favorite mask is in a drawer somewhere. I keep opening it by accident 😆)
Thank you. 👍🏻 (I like your mask joke’ 😂)