Why endangerment and parentification might be the worst or at least the weirdest form of child abuse

 Hi friends, I realized re-reading my last posts that I didn't actually answer the question I set out to, which how endangerment, including parentification, might be the worst form of child abuse. I answered why parents endanger kids and how they get away with it. I was raised by four narcissistic parents (two bio and their spouses) who routinely abused, neglected, abandoned, endangered, scapegoated, exploited, manipulated, invalidated, shamed and parentified me and then gaslit me about it all. 

Today I'm looking at why endangerment and parentification (which are similar) are if not the worst and least the weirdest and scariest form of child abuse. This is not to discount or compete with the experiences of a child who has experienced other forms of child abuse. This is not a race for last place. Because really all the forms have similar roots. They are perpetrated on a helpless child victim by selfish, arrogant, screwed up, narcissistic, immature people. 

So first what is endangerment? For the full explanation of what endangerment is and isn't see my other posts. Synopsis is it's willfully and consistently subjecting the child to dangerous situations and people for selfish reasons. Examples of endangerment in my life included making me play alone with no adult supervision, often in strange places (because we moved so much). And several times even leaving me behind on trips of significant length with strangers. It also included bringing very dangerous adults into  my life, expecting me to obey, serve and wait on them and then allowing them to harm, humiliate and threaten me while quietly approving and often joining in. 

And piggybacking on that was the parentification. If you're  new to the term parentification, it means expecting the child to be the adult and parent the parents and in my case their new spouses and other children. My two biological parents were very needy even with me. They confided terrible things to me, such as my father's plans to commit suicide, when I was 5. And my mother's affairs and sexual exploits after divorcing my dad. And then cutting me out of their new families except to expect me to raise their new kids. And allowing their boyfriends, girlfriends and new spouses to routinely shame, abuse, neglect, exploit, manipulate, scapegoat and parentify me. 

The creepy, sick part of endangerment and parentification , is how it messes with a child's mind. We are sooooo vulnerable to gaslighting. They're not really hurting you. You're too sensitive. It's her right because she's your "mother" (stepmother). It's his right because it's "his" home (when it was actually my mom's and my house that she moved her boyfriend into. Our kids are your siblings thusly you have to serve, wait on and raise them. Guilt layered on shame layered on lies layered on inappropriate expectations till I ended up brain damaged, dissociated and completely cut off from reality. It was very much like living in a cult. 

It's also so difficult because hides in plain sight. Other family members are gaslit into not believing the evidence of their eyes. And if they do, and say something, boom, the parents cut them off from the child. In my case, by moving me across the country to Alaska (not for work, for a narcissistic fantasy) thousands of miles from my other family. 

Also, the narcissist parents are VERY good at manipulative tactics: lying, faking, covering, denying, twisting and distorting. And because they get VERY angry when their self-driven version is not accepted. It is NOT safe to question or speak up. In my case, it was terrifyingly dangerous. My dad once beat me when I was 13, for not being "cheerful" enough about being moved out of my room and into a tiny room with his and his wife's new baby. This is part of parentification with the servant/scapegoat/surrogate spouse and parent crap added in. 

My mother left me, at 11, for a week to care for her four special needs foster care kids all under age 5. One was a severely abused infant. She left her dangerous, unemployed, sexually abusive, venomously angry boyfriend with me. He slept on couch and lit into me one night when I couldn't comfort the baby. He lied to my mother and said that I "shook the baby." I've lived with that horrible shame ever since. When she got home she believed her boyfriend and docked my pay. Then she let him kick me out of the house when I was 16. He was still unemployed and so lazy that he poured fuel oil on the fire because he hadn't cut wood. Yet me coming in an hour late was grounds (illegally, I might add) for removal.  I believed that BS for decades. 

And because these types of people have the child so gaslit and bewildered that they believe that no one will believe them. I now know that if I had reported just one of these incidents, they would have been investigated and possible arrested. But all four of these "parents" lied,  denied or weaponized it to further shame me. My mother justified leaving me with kids at 11 because I "wanted to earn the money." Which she docked and then never paid me. Then when I, under duress, confronted her, she flat out lied and said she would never have left me alone with the kids because she would have lost her  license. 

So I was left with a broken brain chockful of scary, traumatic, shameful  memories of which I never told anyone at the time. Even into adulthood, I believed that everything that happened was in some way my fault. Or that it never happened and I  made it up. I see now it wasn't and I didn't. But old sins, especially of parents against children, cast long shadows. 

Why endangerment and gaslighting about it, is the worst form of child abuse

 Hi friends. If you've been following, you know that I'm working to recover from a lifetime of parental abuse, neglect, endangerment, abandonment, exploitation, scapegoating, invalidation, toxic shaming, parentification and gaslighting about it all. I experienced this from four parents (two bio and their two partners whom I used to call stepparents but now don't). 

Today I'm looking at why endangerment and then gaslighting about it, might be the worst form of child abuse. I include in endangerment, parentification (making the child parent the parents and other children). There are many reasons why this child abuse is so bad, but I think the biggest is how it destroys the child's sense of self. Depending on the age that endangerment begins, it can damages the self-concept before it even begins to form. 

When I talk about endangerment, I'm not talking about open to interpretation situations. All parents have probably done the occasional thing that others might question. Leaving kids in the car during a snowstorm, to mail a letter 12 steps from the car. These are mistakes at worst and don't happen regularly and seem to be in the kids' best interest. 

The endangerment I'm talking about is knowingly and willful, as in the parent goes out of her way to, put her child in vulnerable, scary, icky, exploitative, hurtful situations. This endangering parent leaves the child alone in the car to take a girl to a clinic to have an abortion. Or a 4 year old to wander blocks away alone. Or a 5 -year old play in a park blocks from home where a convicted pedophile has been known to frequent. Or a 6- year-old alone to play at a marina not knowing where mom is. This is consistent endangerment, not accidental or unwitting. There is no emergency or excuse. The parent isn't working and can't afford care. In my situation, both parents were unemployed. 

Endangerment also goes beyond neglect. The parent purposely exposes his daughter to unsafe people and often triangulates (pits the unsafe adult against) his child. The mother leaves her daughter unsupervised at far too young an ages. The parents absent themselves, are unapproachable and unavailable. They place the child in uncomfortable situations with sketchy people. 

They are unavailable because they don't want the child to rely on them as parents. They shame the child for needing them. They behave as if they want the child to be injured, molested, abducted or worse. It's not just that they don't care what happens. Or are too oblivious, such as the drunk parent. They manufacture dangerous situations to leave the vulnerable child in. And then fault the child if something does happen, saying the child caused it. Or they seem to sickly gloat or take pleasure in it, such as when the boyfriend or new wife humiliate the child.  Or they weaponize for their own ends. Or get irrationally angry at being inconvenienced.  Or they act cold and unmoved even by things like sexual assault. Or all of the above. 

Children with good, loving parents are abducted literally under their parents' noses. Even with everyone watching and caring, accidents occur. Children of  vigilant parents come to grief. Loving parents who want their children, have them taken from them. So how did I who was exposed to threat almost daily, survive?? Seriously, I have more far, far more memories of dangerous situations with no parent around, than of normal loving safety. In fact, I really don't know what that looks like. 

And no one ever knew so how could they help me? People I've told as an adult have shaken their heads shocked that I survived relatively unscathed.  Don't get me wrong. There were many times I was hurt, exploited and traumatized. But for all the endangerment, it could have been a lot worse. It was not for their lack of trying however. One person aptly asked "were they trying to get you killed??" Which gets me back to why endangerment is the worst child abuse. 

Four reasons: First, parents are good at hiding it. My parents (before and after they were divorced) moved around a lot. They've been homeless and on the run. Really. From child abuse charges and legal trouble. They've squatted. But they were good at making it all look quasi-legit. Enough to keep relatives from looking too closely. And when anyone did, they moved far enough away to avoid prying eyes. 

All of which should have been a clue but for reason two: it hides in plain sight. What I mean is that in my situation, my parents looked like normal people. Well sort of. If you looked at what they were really doing and not their gaslighting version, it's clear, in the pictures of me alone and in the trauma in my face. 

And endangerment like I lived with is so bizarre that no one expects it. You really can't make this shit up. No one in any place I've lived did anything like this. I think my grandparents, aunts and uncles had no idea because they themselves would never do anything like this. And who was going to tell them? Me? I was too young to know how weird it was. And I'd have kept quiet to protect mommy and daddy. 

Which is also reason three. Abusive parent rely on kids keeping quiet. They gaslight us into thinking its not weird and that no one would believe us anyway. Which is kind of an oxymoron. If it's not weird, why would no one believe us if we told? And that loved ones would think I was lying. As if! And that saying something is disloyal. The gaslighting is real. 

Reason four is covered in the previous post. Sorry. I'm just so shell-shocked from writing all of this I can't write anymore. 

How my parents were able to get away with all the neglect, abuse and endangerment

This piggybacks on the post that comes after this. I added them in the wrong order. That post discusses. why endangerment might be the worst form of child abuse. Because the worst part is the destruction of the self, or really, the never developing a sense of self as separate from others. I then discussed how and why endangerment is so insidious. I gave four reasons but only discussed three. Here's reason four. My two incredibly narcissistic parents were enabled by their healthy loving parents, but for understandable reasons. Yes, weird, I know. Here's how and why. 

So before my parents divorced (and hooked up with other selfish, abusive partners) they were already pretty entrenched in abandonment and endangerment of me. Their behavior as adults and then as parents was pretty sketchy and fringy. I have very few memories of them actually caring for me. I always spent a lot of time alone or with others, some I knew and some I didn't. I was left to wander and don't remember parents around. We moved a lot. They were at various times unemployed, homeless, on the run and have squatted. 

Then when I was 5, they got the bright idea (which they always said was God calling) to go to Alaska as missionaries. They had zero training, higher education, prior ministerial experience or even really very good people skills. They were going to go tell others how to live their lives without even having a home, job or caring for their child. They weren't supported by any church. They church shopped a lot. In fact, the one they happened to be in (Baptist, I think) said, unequivocally, no! Do not do this. You are not missionaries and there is no mission field in Alaska. But they sold everything and off we went. 

Which gets to reason four why endangerment is so terrible. And this is the hardest to write about, by far. Earlier I wrote that I didn't understand it as endangerment because I was so young. I knew I was scared and alone a lot but it was normal for me. So I get why I didn't understand how bad it was. But why didn't the other adults in my life see it??????? My grandparents were good loving people who loved me. Why then did they not follow up when they saw the shit my parents were doing? I mean for God's sake, who doesn't question when their kids take their kid to Alaska, from Michigan, on a whim, to be "missionaries???" Why were blind eyes turned to the homelessness, constant unemployment, moving around, squatting, leaving me alone, etc.??

I think the reason is that narcissists are very good at gaslighting everyone about what is going on. They have this weird ability to, if not get people on board, to at least distract them. They speak a lot of nonsense which baffles others. They play the shell game with facts. They also lie and hid a lot. And plus, no normal person could ever envision parents being so off with their kids. Like in my case. 

As I've said before, my parents really weren't around much. I have very few memories of them at all.  I was left alone most of the time and it never occurred to me to ask my parents for anything. They liked it this way but knew even at their most delusional that others wouldn't. So I think they played their parts when anyone was around. 

But then they moved to Alaska and there was no one around to see. I think they moved to be able to do what they wanted when and where they wanted with me completely cut off from anyone who cared about me. I've wondered why they didn't just leave me with family and go. But that wouldn't lend credence to their delusions. I know, it's not making sense yet, but bear with me. 

They believed, or said they did, that God was calling them to "convert the Indians" in Alaska. They may have believed that I'd enjoy it and learn from the experience. But that was only an afterthought. If I was a priority, they'd have secured jobs, housing, etc before moving. That's what parents do, right? 

Of course it is, you say. Why do you second guess yourself? Because I've been brainwashed all my life into thinking that what's best for others is what's best for me, even if it's actually hurting me. It took till 60 to finally admit that no provision was made for me. That they lived like wild Hedonists and completely disregarded me and left me to my own devices. I wish I could be more like my husband and  just say "that's bullshit." But I'm a slow learner. 

And not only were no plans laid, they didn't even try. Once they got to  Alaska, it was full on fantasy. We lived in 13 different places (at last count. I keep remembering more) Some for only a week at a time. Neither was working. My dad would leave for months at a time. I don't know where my mom was or what she was doing. I know she spent a lot of time with various older men. We weren't calling them boyfriends yet. But then she announced they were divorcing. No help for me processing that. Dad is still wandering around "preaching." Then she moved us to a remote island (place #14) to be a "youth group leader." And then left me for a week with strangers to go to Seattle for treatment of a "bladder infection." 

The missionary thing was delusional but also pragmatic, if you think like a self-centered narcissist. To begin with it shows their bigotry thinking these good people with a thriving spirituality needed white saviors. But beyond that, I think they fully expected the grateful native people to wait on them, as Jesus told the disciples to allow the people they preached to, to feed and care for them. 

So how was moving me with them to Alaska part of the delusion?  I was their calling card. They may have deluded themselves into missionaries they knew others might not see it that way. They might see them for what they were. Without me, they were two lazy, entitled adults expecting to be waited on. With me, they were a "homeless family that needed help." Having a child involved changes everything.

I think, too that they arrogantly figured these "heathens" wouldn't know child neglect when they saw it. But they saw. Wandering alone was something I did all the time. But none of the children I knew was allowed to wander with me. They allowed to me play with their children but later not even that because my situation was just too sketchy. But they were too far up their own asses to pay attention to that. 

In their fantasy, why would they make plans, secure housing and jobs etc.? I mean Jesus told the disciples not to even take a staff or second cloak. The grateful "converts" should take care of all that, including me. Which of course, was completely opposite to what Jesus meant. But it sure sounded like a win-win for my parents. 

And some native Tlingit people did take care of us. But not because they were ignorant or grateful. They were good humans. And because there was me. Children need care regardless of the adults they are with. So these people were the real missionaries. And the elderly couple who took us in, took over where grandparents left off, letting my parents get away with every weird thing and making sure I had food and a place to sleep. The only reason they allowed me to play alone was that they were in their 80s and couldn't look after me. 

But that didn't matter to my parents because they didn't ever anyway. And my mom and dad got exactly what they wanted. They could fantasize and freebird to their hearts content. My dad went off for months at a time. No one ever knew where. I don't know what my mom did. No job, no kid, no responsibilities, no worries. 

And because there were no sanctions or censure, they took this as approval. Self-centered people do this. If you don't check them, loudly, clearly and regularly, they conclude that you are happy with it. And since they are very poisonous when checked, people don't do it very often. Because everyone was playing along, this meant that they had God's imprimatur too. 

Which only made it worse. The only way to stonewall narcissists is to stop enabling. Which they couldn't do because of me. Catch 22. Because when they once confronted my parents, saying that I belonged home with my family, my parents got mad. My parents do not like to be told they are wrong. That's when my dad's road trips got longer and my mom moved us to a remote island. To keep me from any protective influence they may have had. 

Which kicked my parents' narcissistic delusions into overdrive. It looked to them like everyone was applauding their "missionary work." But then my grandparents decided to visit. By the time they arrived, my parents were so deep in cloud cuckooland, they made no pretense of parenting me. God had told them they didn't have too. And I just went on, thinking all this was normal.  Or that I had imagined it. Until about 25 years ago, my grama affirmed it. 

My grampa made some home movies he'd taken in Alaska on their visit, into VHS. I showed them to my mom as I thought she'd enjoy it. She made a snarky comment about some things she heard my grama say while watching the movies as my grampa taped them. I guess they must have hit home. But being my mom, she wanted me to feel ashamed and sad for her. Which I did until I began this quest a year ago. 

So grama said that she recalled that as soon as they got there, my parents both took off in different directions leaving me with my grandparents. No word of where they were, what they were doing or when they'd be back. As you fucking do. Your parents travel across the effing continent to see you and you dump your kid on them? What the hell?? Which is exactly what, if I'm understanding correctly, my grandma basically asked. 

Who takes care of Marilisa when we aren't here?? She was probably the only person to actually consider that these people were dropping the ball with me, a bit. But I think that what she couldn't imagine, because no sane, caring person could, is that the answer to that question was: No one. 

No one expects parents to leave a 6 y/o child on their own, in a strange country, thousands of miles from home. Which is pretty outlandish but then, no one lets a little kid play alone blocks from home, in the bowery, or in a park with predators either. I think, being self-centered and delusional, my parents just got used to people believing all their bullshit and not asking questions. I think they relied on the fact that no one would believe they did these things. 

Am I saying it's partly my grandparents' fault for enabling my parents to behave this way. I don't know. I don't think so. Because they were bullied too. They probably kept their own parents in check, threatening to disallow them any contact with me if they intervened. And they were gaslit by my parents into not believing their own eyes and instincts. 

And I've come to believe now that narcs also punish people who look to closely. They don't like their fantasies questioned. They don't care about the kid but they use her as leverage against people who do. They threaten vocally or in hints, to keep the child from anyone who asks too many questions. Or they move her across the damn continent so that they can't. 

All this didn't help me much. It would have been helpful if someone had reached out to help. To tell me it was wrong. I've gaslit myself for decades that they didn't because there was nothing wrong. That they would  have turned on  me if I'd said something. Mainly, I think they just didn't know the extent of it. My parents were very good at covering the bruises they inflicted. 

Childhood trauma and parental abuse: once you find your voice, keep talking

 Hi friends. For the past year, I've been exposing and exploring abuse and neglect I endured at the hands of four narcissistic parents (two bio and their partners). Today I'm looking at why it's important to keep talking once you find your voice. Because once seen, you'll never unsee it or look at family dynamics the same again. 

If you have been following this blog, you might wonder why I talk so much about my childhood trauma. And why after 6 decades am I finally opening up about abuse (physical, sexual, financial, religious, emotional), neglect, endangerment, abandonment, exploitation, parentification, family scapegoating, manipulation, invalidation, toxic shaming, gaslighting and other shit I don't have words for yet. Well, not because it's any fun, let me assure you of that. 

There are many reasons why I keep writing about it. Sixty years of keeping quiet about parental abuse, of not being allowed a voice to articulate it, means thousands of bad memories crammed in, broken, rotting and oozing poison. Plus, years of parents gaslighting, lying and brainwashing about what happened has left me confused and bewildered. What the hell just  happened? Why?? 

Emotional child abuse is the horror hidden in plain sight. To anyone willing to admit what they are seeing.  To everyone but the child. To the child, this is normal, for her. Her parents, with their self-centered, manipulative lies, have caused her to believe that this is all she deserves. That she brought it on herself. That they, their partners and kids are her responsibility to serve and obey. 

The concept of family loyalty is royally effed up too. It's drilled into the abused kid's head that she must play along with, keep silent about, ignore, put up with all manner of crap to be a good family member. She OWES it to them. But no one ever talks about what is owed to her, like affirmation and love, let alone basic care. It's one-sided. 

The only expression for those decades of bad memories has been in CPTSD dreams and nightmares. Till now. And now that I have begun to understand what happened, I can't unsee it. Nor can I wrap my mind around it. There is so much that it seems endless. It's overwhelming and terrifying.  Early traumatic childhood memories take on specter like shapes, diffuse, looming and completely overpowering. 

Like a shadow that gets bigger and bigger till it takes up the entire room. Like Nosferatu who was most frightening in the shadow on the wall. Even now I get short of breath when I remember the fear. My chest gets tight and I feel like I'm choking. 

Talking about it helps frame in the boundaries. It helps me sort out what  happened and some of the why. It helps to put it in a manageable place where I can safely contain it. It helps me get Nosferatu down to size and see him for what he is. A sad, strange little man in a mask. Scary people look so big to kids. But as an adult, I am beginning to see them for what they were/are. Scary only in the horrendous lengths they'll go to to protect their narcissistic delusion. 

Why it's impossible to just "rise above" malignant narcissist behavior (and other stupid nonsense advice)

Hey friends. Mar here with more on how I'm attempting to heal from decades of narcissistic abuse by two selfish parents and their abusive partners. Today I'm going to debunk some of the stupid nonsense advice people get about dealing with narcissists. One of the worst is "not to take it personally" and "rise above." This is not only incredibly insensitive, it's impossible. 

First of all, you need to know that anyone who says stuff like that, clearly has never lived with a self-centered malignant narcissist or they wouldn't make these comments. I won't say it's even well-meaning advice. It's just meant to make themselves feel better and is actually narcissistic itself. In some cases the person is passive-aggressively shaming you the victim, gaslighting and and affirming the narc in their abuse of you. 

Let's start with the infamous "don't take it personally." It sounds good in theory. And it can be helpful if the person really wants you too feel better and isn't just defending the narc. In that case it's just it's the old "you're too sensitive" BS which is one of many tactics malignant narcs use to gaslight, shame, invalidate and manipulate. Because what it implies that you can stop the narc hurting you just by clicking your heels together and pretending it isn't what it is, a targeted attack.  

Advice like this also dismisses that very real problem, that the narc isn't accidentally being hurtful, they are going out of their way to. They want you to personalize it. They are targeting you and they want you to know it. If you do rise above (what that means) they will double down on the attack. So stupid advice to pretend they aren't doesn't protect you, it makes it worse. 

The best advice I can give, from decades of narc abuse is to either call it out when it happens and then cut contact with them or just cut or limit contact and know it is about you. But it isn't your fault or problem. This is not an argument or a two-way street. What you shouldn't do is to believe that it is something you provoked. The narc attacks you because he has chosen you as the target. And you've been if anything too nice and patient. 

One super creepy way I was endangered, abandoned and exploited by parental narcissistic abuse

(warning: another very disturbing post) Hi friends. Couldn't sleep last night. CPTSD from parental narcissistic abuse will do that to you. And while I was praying/writing a novel in my head/trying not to ruminate, a memory of childhood trauma came shouting through. It exemplifies one tiny, but super creepy, way I was endangered, abandoned and exploited by a narcissistic parent. I say tiny only because in my life, it was small beer compared to the full buffet of abuse by four selfish, self-absorbed parents. 

I've taken to listing the types of abuse I have experienced. Physical, mental, emotional, sexual, financial, religious and narcissistic abuse, plus neglect, endangerment, abandonment, shaming, exploitation, manipulation, scapegoating and gaslighting. This example shows the lengths my mom went to, to prove to me that she didn't give a fat rat's ass about me or my feelings, and would even use my pain for narcissistic supply. 

My parents divorced when I was 6. We lived in Alaska where they had gone to "be missionaries to the Indians." (Yes I hear all that's wrong with that. It was how it was presented to 5 y/o me.) That never  happened. The local Tlingit tribe didn't need missioning to and actually took care of my unemployed, homeless parents. They weren't sent by any church. It was just their delusional fantasy. 

My dad left on a series of "mission trips" which were just wandering around without his family. My mom had her own delusions of grandeur which she'd dream up while leaving me on my own. She started cheating on my dad in a series of affairs that began there and continued when we moved back (sans my still-wandering dad) to Michigan. 

Now before it get to this particular story, you need to know a few things about my mom. She loves attention. She has exploited me regularly to get it. She also fancies herself a pillar of the church, a good Christian woman, moral example and also a preacher in her own right. She regularly preaches about moral living and feels justified in calling out anyone or anything she deems immoral, sinful etc. She is completely in denial and hypocritical about her incredibly immoral (by her own standards) behavior. 

One of the most egregious is that she is very off about sex and has been since I was about 6 or 7 when she began forcing me to hear the "facts of life." I would cover my ears but she persisted. She gave me a blow by blow description of "A Clockwork Orange." She would make out with her boyfriends in front of me. She used crude street language and let her boyfriends talk this way to me. As a result I'm kind of broken sexually and filled with shame that I've had to work for decades to overcome. Thank God for my miracle-working husband. 

At the time (early 1970s) virtually no one I knew was divorced, let alone dating. Let alone having affairs. Let alone with married men. Let alone living with boyfriends (that happened later, but it relates). Regardless of faith or lack thereof, it was almost unheard of. Adult friends have confirmed this. My friends all thought it was weird and I was weird by association. 

I felt so icky about all her sex talk. She said it was to protect me.  I believed her but still felt icky. She said she just didn't want anything bad to happen to me. Mind you, she also let me play alone in a park a few blocks away when I was 5, where a known pedophile hung out. She told me,  just don't go in the bathroom.  And as you'll see, not only did she not protect me, she endangered, abandoned and exploited me for herself. 

So on with my story. We moved a lot. And next door to the house in which this happened lived a single dad with four sons. I think the mother had passed away. Anyway, two of the kids were really nasty. One time, one of them poured a bottle of salad dressing over my head in the street while everyone sat and laughed. For some reason I developed a small crush on him. Which further shows how my parents had abandoned all protection of me. Isn't that what girls do? Fall for abusers? 

Anyway, then his brother did something to me that would haunt me all my life. I was 10, I think. On Halloween, he sent a note to me, telling me all kinds of sick, dirty things he'd like to do to me, sexually. I think his brothers had a hand in this too. I seem to recall them laughing about it later. I remember reading it and just coming unglued. I got sick to my stomach and was screaming and crying. And really afraid. He basically told me he'd rape me if given the chance. My mom just dismissed it like she did every other weird and creepy thing that happened to me or that she allowed to happen to me. She told me to go trick-or-treating and just ignore it. 

So that was bad enough. Knowing that some fat, stupid, ugly bully was out there waiting to get her daughter didn't phase her. If it was my daughter, I'd have called the police, gone over and ripped them all new ones and gotten me counseling. And maybe slashed their tires. But not my mom. She actually used this to her advantage to get an inroad with the dad. Who as I look back had to have known about what his kid did. I mean he was a high school teacher for fuck's sake! But I guess, yanno, boys will be boys?

Anyway, a few months later, she started dating the dad. We'll call him Duane. Of the bunch that had traumatized me. Imagine for a minute how awkward and sickening that was for me. Duane was a lot older than her which was another part of my mom's creepy MO. Looking for a sugar daddy. Blech. And let me just segue here to say that I understood none of this as a kid. I believed all my mom's bullshit gaslighting. I was just your average  funny-looking but sweet, slightly naive tween who liked to read Scholastic books. It's only now that I'm 60 that I'm realizing how crude, lewd and morally bankrupt she really was. Back then, I thought I was dirty and trashy. Now I see that I wasn't. I was treated dirty and subjected to trashy behavior. It's actually kind of amazing how I navigated it all while still remained relatively innocent. I sure as hell didn't feel innocent. I felt like a VD germ. 

So anyway, the dad and his bunch had moved and she'd drag me over to their house so she could be with her new boyfriend. Then one weekend she announced that the two of them were planning to go away and leave me with his four sons. Who had sexually harassed me.  No adults. Not even any other girls present. Just me and the creeps. The kid who had told us exactly what he planned to do if left alone with me. All of us tweens and teens camping out on the floor. I can't honestly remember if he did anything, but I lay awake all night long in fear.  And it didn't really matter because my mind was so raped by him and my mother's allowing it. The word pimping leaps to mind. 

She didn't just allow this or turn a blind eye. She had to go out of her way to create this situation. She had fucking options. She could have asked my grandparents or my dad to watch me. My dad was back in town. But oh wait, then she'd have to admit what she was up to. Or actually no she wouldn't. She'd have just lied like she always did. I suppose she was worried I'd say something. And my dad wouldn't have done anything anyway. He have just said to pray about it. Or even have made me feel even more responsible for it happening. Anyway you cut it, I'd have been left high and dry. 

I didn't even bother telling my mom how scared I was. Why would I? She'd already proved I was on my own when it came to being safe. Then she had to audacity to trauma dump on me about how the old man had "molested" her. Or some such nonsense. I can't completely recall because it's all such a CPTSD nightmare. And if he did, what did you expect? You went away for a hookup. If he even did which I doubt. It was just an excuse to put more ick in my mind. And to activate my pity. And to deflect attention away from the truly traumatic experience which she landed me in. 

That experience wasn't the first endangerment involving men in my life and certainly not the last. It was just one of many situations she not only didn't protect me from it but pushed me into. Between her, my dad and their partners, they taught me that this was what I was supposed to do, let people fuck with my head, hurt my body, break my spirit and damage my soul. 

How I am using CPTSD triggers and emotional flashback triggers to get healthier

 Hello friends. This is part two of  my post on CPTSD triggers and how to use them in recovery. Today I'm looking at  how to use emotional flashbacks and childhood trauma triggers. I defined a trauma trigger as anything, anyone, any place, any event that activates an emotional flashback (a sensation of being back in the original experience with associated feelings). In childhood trauma, these emotional flashbacks take us to negative, dangerous and hurtful experiences with unpleasant feelings and thoughts. I flashback to abuse, neglect, dysregulation, exploitation, manipulation, parentification, coercion, scapegoating, abandonment, endangerment and gaslighting from two narcissistic parents and their equally abusive spouses (my "stepparents".)

Triggers take me back to those initial experiences. I feel the fear, anxiety, confusion and panic that original experiences of abuse, neglect and especially parentification, endangerment and abandonment, caused. And each time adds another layer as the older I get the more of these emotional flashbacks I accumulate. 

They activate muscle memory and autonomic responses and coping mechanisms (fight, flight, freeze and fawn, mostly fawn). I'd even add fake and fix. I go into an unnatural brittle "fake cheerful" mode that my husband and I have dubbed perma-grin. I scramble to please and placate. I start doing  weird dysregulated things. It's my repertoire of defense and coping mechanisms that I've built up from decades of use. 

And because the thing that triggers the emotional flashbacks seems or is unrelated, it makes no sense to anyone with me, why the heck  I'm melting down like a little kid. It's because in that flashback, I am a child or teen. And my inner kid is going into coping mechanisms I did in childhood. 

But as weird as they are, coping mechanisms served a purpose, just as triggers do. Triggers are red flags that something isn't safe. Or resembles something unsafe. Or just requires some closer scrutiny, to see if it isn't. I used the example of being triggered by my son's violin lessons because the people at the church they were held at had treated me so poorly. All that required was paying attention to the panic attack feelings, doing the math and getting him out of that situation. He hated the violin lessons anyway, which probably should have been another wake up call. 

The feelings of dysregulation, panic attack, associated with triggered emotional flashback are helpful too. They generate a sense of urgency to get the heck out of danger. To pull my hand away from the fire instead of keeping it there and letting it burn me as I'd been taught to do. They help me understand that coping mechanisms were all I had as a kid. But now I can create a toolbox with healthier options than flying, fighting and especially freezing, fawning, fixing and faking. 

Physical symptoms of CPTSD from narcissistic abuse are getting worse

 Hello my friends. All these posts about my experiences with childhood abuse, neglect, parental abandonment, endangerment, exploitation, toxic shaming, scapegoating and gaslighting about it all, are painful to write. Today's post is especially uncomfortable because it is so very sad and scary. It makes me physically ill to think about. But the toxins have to be lanced or I will never find peace. 

What spurred this was that Saturday, I had an out of nowhere physical shutdown. It just came on  me in the middle of a musical festival I'd been looking so forward to attending. All of a sudden I got dizzy, shaky and felt like I was going to faint. My chest hurt and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I felt terrible for my husband who was enjoying himself but I had to get out of there immediately. I almost didn't make it to the car without collapsing. It felt like the sidewalk was sucking me in. 

And this may sound really weird, but it felt a lot like it did when I was "roofied." A few years ago, I was slipped Rohypnol at an event. I can't prove it but I had all the symptoms. My husband was there, thank God. I don't know how it happened but I have my suspicions about this guy sitting at our table. Whether it was meant for me or not, I don't care. It was terrible. Husband says he's never seen me anything like that. 

I had been dancing, got very dizzy all of a sudden and stumbled back to the table. It was so embarrassing, but by the time I got there, I was incoherent. I remember almost none of it. I know that my husband carried me home and  my son helped get me to the couch because they told me. I woke up from the soundest sleep I've had in decades, totally confused. My cat was sleeping  near me and he only did that when I was sick. 

This experience Saturday felt a lot like that only it came on slowly. I had ordered some food but was unable to eat it. We had a beer each but I'd only had a few sips. It was very hot and dry and I'd forgotten my allergy medication. I have also been dealing with several autoimmune problems (arthritis and psoriasis). I'm sure some dehydration and allergy symptoms were involved. But that was not the whole story, I'm convinced. 

Psychologists and Youtubers Dr. Ramani and Patrick Teahan have talked about the physical effects from childhood trauma. And what they describe is, to a T, what I felt: confusion, disorientation, shortness of breath, collapse, dizziness, fainting. 

I've had fainting episodes during pregnancy. I know what it feels like when they come on. This was different. I've had panic attacks which are similar. This was worse. I've had migraines which are more painful (and also symptoms of childhood trauma). There was no pain with this except in my chest. It felt like what I think an early stage heart attack in women might feel like. It was terrifying. 

I'd been feeling it coming on for several hours but ignored the warning signs. Because that's what I do. When I feel sick, I feel ashamed. I believe I'm showing off like my dad said. I feel like I'm ruining other people's fun. I think others think I'm faking. Or malingering. Which isn't fair but I can't help it. It's knee-jerk. Because that's how parents and their spouses treated me. They had little compassion, zero empathy and much blame for me. 

I believe, worst of all, that I always bring everything on myself.  That my pain or needs are an inconvenience or annoyance. That I'm getting in someone's way. That their problems, no matter how trivial are more important than mine. That by being sick or in need, I'm preventing them from getting what they need. It's always my fault. Because I was taught all that. 

When I was sick as a child, it was ignored. Or I was told to quit being lazy. Or showing off. All through my life, any illness was weaponized against me or to leverage sympathy for my from parents. I spent so  much time sick and alone that it would never occur to me to ask for help from adults. That is just being "needy" or "selfish." My job was to give, not receive. 

I well remember, beginning around age, 6, that sick feeling in my stomach, knowing they expected me to do so many confusing, adult things perfectly well and not having a clue how to. Of knowing I had to serve, serve, serve and not having enough resources, let alone maturity, to do it all. Of being 14, feeling exhausted, burned out, asleep on my feet, yet knowing I had to keep going. Of feeling so responsible for others and having no idea what to do. Of just trying and trying, failing and failing to please. Of feeling so wretchedly guilty about it all. 

It comes flooding over me in wave upon wave of shame and guilt. It comes back to haunt  me nightly, in dreams and nightmares. Even writing this now, I feel guilty. I should be out working or helping or fixing or serving. Not wasting time on self-indulgent self-pity. (My dad's words, in my head).

But yet I write. Because maybe someone somewhere out there needs to hear this. Maybe I need to hear this. Because as I think of it, perhaps God allowed what happened on Sat, to show me how pervasive and devastating are the effects of parental abuse and neglect and the ensuring CPTSD. To see how very sick and dangerous is child endangerment, abandonment, exploitation and toxic shaming. To see how hurt and frightened, is little me. 

I think too that He is warning me that it was and is really bad and I need help dealing with it. I think He's showing me that because I have been so roundly dismissed, ignored, shamed and gaslit that I'm doing now doing these things to myself. I'm ignoring and powering thru what I should be paying close attention to. 

I believe He is saying  that I am NOT too sensitive as my dad said. That I'm not showing off. That I'm not being "disloyal." Or a bad family member. Or disobedient. I'm not the problem. I have problems because of the was I have been treated. I'm not exaggerating, I'm minimizing. I'm not too sensitive, I'm not sensitized enough to my needs and feelings. 

It still feels weird. It probably always will. But as AA says, fake it till ya make it. 

. 

Healing CPTSD by recognizing triggers, part one

 (Caution: post contains reference to suicide). Hi friends. I've been on a journey to heal CPTSD from toxic shaming, abuse, neglect, abandonment, endangerment, scapegoating, parentification, exploitation and gaslighting by four narcissistic parents. Today I'm beginning a series exploring triggers, what they are, how understanding them helps recovery, but also what they are not. 

What are triggers? They are anything that generates a negative response or feelings, panic attack or emotional flashback, a partially subconscious memory of  something unpleasant that happened. I have dysregulated (came apart emotionally) with certain triggers. 

What triggers aren't. They're not responses to what's happening right now. When I had a panic attack over receiving a sweater for Christmas, it wasn't that gift I was reacting to. That triggered the memory of my dad screaming at 12 y/o me in front of the entire family when I asked permission to go try on my new sweater. 

Trigger also aren't common responses to immediate provocation. If someone insults me, retorting, responding angrily, telling them off, are logical responses. They may not be the healthiest, but they make sense. 

And that's what triggers don't do is make sense, at least at first glance. They seem to come out of the blue. Often,  what triggers the response seems totally unrelated to the original thing. That's why it can be so difficult to identify and source a trigger. It usually looks like you're over-reacting. The response is too big for the situation. And it's because it's so extreme that identifies it as a trigger. 

Because triggers don't lie. There is always have a connection. They are not irrational. And the triggered responses, originating deep my muscle memory, are there to protect me. They remember past trauma and injuries around situations and people, that I have forgotten or pushed down. 

One of my triggers was taking my son to violin lessons. I was always a little uncomfortable. But one day, I had a full-blown (in my head) panic attack. I felt suicidal. If it wasn't for my little daughter in the car, I can't say what I would have done in that moment. 

Which might all sound completely insane, Unless, you know the back story. Fortunately, I have a loving, understanding husband whom I was able to talk to about this and who took it seriously. He helped me see that it wasn't just the violin lessons but the church at which they were held. 

He reminded me that "Hon, those people have been awful to you!" The minister, his wife and members of the congregation were incredibly judgmental and had passive-aggressively shamed me. I had also  recently lost several babies to stillborn and several had lorded over me, their large families and ability to reproduce like rabbits. There was even some insinuation that I caused my babies to die because of sin in my life. Mainly the fact that I was a Catholic and they were not. 

(I'd actually only remembered the last part in writing this. This is how deeply buried triggers can be). 

So that was difficult enough. But it also reminded me of all the toxic shaming and religious persecution from my parents. It reminded me how my brother had harassed me for being Catholic, claiming he wanted to save me from hell. It recalled all the hypocrisy I'd lived in--parents doing very immoral things and proclaiming themselves good Christians. Parents humiliating, scapegoating, attacking, abusing, exploiting, endangering, abandoning and gaslighting me. All under the guise of doing God's will. 

Tomorrow I'll post more about what it feels like when I'm triggered. 

My weird, constant, CPTSD nightmares

Hi friends. Today's post is about the weird, disturbing CPTSD nightmares I have on a nightly basis. And when I say weird, I ain't just whistling Dixie. I  have so many dreams that I have dream memories. There not recurrent in that they change and piggyback off each other. I've had dreams involving all areas of the town I live in. I have more dream memories than actual memories, at least of childhood. Sometimes I can't separate dream from reality. More than once I've had regular dreams about something I thought had actually happened. But when I looked back, it only happened it my dream. 

 They are nightmares in that they are upsetting, scary, disturbing. I'm always in unfamiliar situations, burdened with loads of work I can never get done and caring for many children I don't know. There are endless expectations from others who do not help. I'm doing it all but I have no idea what exactly I'm supposed to do, how to do it, where to get the supplies to do it why I have to. There are always dirty bathrooms I have to clean. Toilets that turn out to be chairs, urine and feces everywhere. 

I'm always late, or I've missed something. I don't get schoolwork done. I am in a play and I don't know my lines. I've let people down. Children go missing and get injured or worse. Children are always in danger and I don't know how to protect them. My dream plunks me down in situations and I don't know what I'm supposed to do, who I'm responsible for. And people are always upset with or angry at me. They are accusing and questioning.

It loops endlessly. I'm never relaxed, off duty or enjoying myself. I'm waiting on others with no help. I'm scared, worried, exhausted and stressed. My home is broken down and filthy, with gaping holes and bugs and vermin. There are familiar elements but mostly odd or different. In short, my dreams are never good. 

 In last night's dream, I was with my oldest daughter Molly who was both and adult and a teen (her age went back and forth). I was in an unfamiliar church bathroom and found, on the bottom shelf of a changing table or toy shelf, a baby. She was abandoned. There were people around but no one claimed her. I called to my daughter who was outside. She was an adult but then a teen of 12. I asked her to ask some people if they had any formula to feed the baby. My phone wouldn't work so I could call someone. 

Now I also have many dreams in which I am still breastfeeding. I dream that I nurse my grandkids but secretly so my kids won't find out. I know this sounds super creepy. But I don't think it's really about my grandkids but the two stillborn babies I lost. I'm forever trying to reach them so I  can care them. It's quite heartbreaking, really. 

Anyway, while looking for formula, I said to my husband who was suddenly randomly in my dream, that today was the first day my milk had dried up. We were sad. When I woke, I had to bring myself up to present and recall that this happened decades ago. 

But then the dream jumped back to my daughter (a teen now in dream) and I (she is pregnant in real life, which might have had something to do with the dream). We couldn't find any formula. In my dream I was feeling bad about giving formula because I always nursed and somehow I felt I should with this baby, as if she were my own. The baby was okay but I knew she had to be getting hungry. 

Then the dream cut to my daughter now holding the baby, who still hasn't eaten ( I dream a lot that my babies are hungry because I haven't nursed them). Near us was a woman I recognize as "Jan" an older teen who was in a  singing group I was in (in real life). We younger kids were in hero-worship awe of her and her agemates and were kind of led to be. They were set up as examples of  holiness that we should follow. 

Jan (an adult but weirdly, younger than me, now) is lining people up with their babies to be in a pageant of some kind. She pulls Molly over, telling her what to do, where to stand, etc. She is being a little too nice and chummy and trying to elbow me away. I said, "no, this isn't our baby. We found her here. We don't know her and can't find her parents. I'm trying to do that. Have you seen them and do you know this baby?"

Jan ignores my question and screams at me to leave my daughter alone and butt out. It's none of my business. My daughter is looking confused like she should do this to keep the woman happy. I try to take the baby and the woman shoves me out of the way and tells me to stop being such a control freak. Everyone seems to just accept this as okay.  I say "Look, this child has been abandoned or lost by her parents! She has not eaten!" The woman says "she doesn't look hungry. She'll be fine!" I say "okay but if anything goes wrong and Molly needs help, I'm coming to get them, pageant or not" Woman says "no you're not!" 

In the dream I felt ashamed of myself and in the way. I was starting to believe that I actually was keeping Molly from something. Even though I knew we needed to help this child and so did my daughter, I felt like I was letting someone down by not going along with it. And I was still terribly worried. I felt torn between doing what's right and what was expected. I started by knowing what I should do but letting someone else gaslight me into ignoring that. The dream ends with me saying "you clearly know nothing about abandoned kids. I DO!" 

This is the first time I've dreamed this dream but it's very much pattern to my other dreams. I experience a lot of questioning. And what do I conclude from it? Well, I should have stood my ground and gotten my daughter and the baby out of there. The fact that I kowtowed against my better judgement (and often do in my dreams) tells me that I've often let bullies push me around. Especially people who were wrongly set in authority over me or as examples of "good Christians." It tells me that maybe I have even perpetuated unhealthy tolerance of bullies in my kids. 

Healing CPTSD and toxic shame by sourcing the disconnect

 Hello my friends. This blog has become about my recovery CPTSD caused by parental abuse, neglect, endangerment, abandonment, exploitation, manipulation, toxic shaming, scapegoating, parentification and gaslighting about it all by four very narcissistic parents. Today I'm looking at healing from CPTSD by sourcing the disconnect. And I'm doing that by paying close attention to uncomfortable feelings,  clues that I'm spiraling or may be about to.  

And this might be one of the trickiest things I've ever done. Why? Because I don't know how because I was taught to ignore bad feelings and red flags. My boundaries were so smashed by steamroller adults that they no longer existed. In fact, I don't think I really ever developed boundaries. I never knew where others  stopped and I began. Because "I" didn't really exist. I was a human doing and giving, source of constant narcissistic supply for the adults in my life.  

Marilisa was not a human being with needs, wants, goals, opinions and feelings of her own. She existed to be a supply, servant, surrogate spouse and/or parent, scapegoat and support (prop) for others. Needs were ignored and dismissed. Feelings were mocked and sometimes exploited. To have needs and wants was selfish. To have opinions or ideas outside parental ones were unspeakable acts of insurrection, instead of  just normal kid stuff. 

I was literally indoctrinated that self-care was disobedient to God, especially if it went contrary to whatever they wanted me to do at the time. For example: most of my  life I did not have a bedroom or bed. I was put in their kids' and babies' rooms of whichever parent I was living with. What was my room was  given to random people such as my uncle and his girlfriend, once. The parents were way across the house or several floors away. As far from the baby/children as possible. I still don't sleep more than a few hours at a time because I've been getting up at night with kids since I was 10. 

The one time I objected to that (well, not really objected but just not as delighted as my dad thought I should be), I was beaten in front of everyone. Another time, my mom's boyfriend exploded on me because the baby I was caring for, woke him up. He says I shook the baby Now I see he was lying to protect himself. I didn't then. And it so traumatized me that I thought I never should have children.

I also see now that that is not only abuse and neglect but endangerment, exploitation, parentification and gaslighting. But then those were just more ways I'd let people down. Those are just a few examples. And they've all congealed into a septic sewage dump of toxic shame in my brain. But for all the ick, they are silent until something stirs them  up. 

Then I start feeling fearful and anxious. I start looking over my shoulder, expecting some form of punishment. I start over-reacting. But since it's not down to anything that actually happened, but rather old memories, I can't see where it began. In fact, I don't even identify that I'm feeling this way because I always feel and have felt this way, just to lesser or greater degrees. I only realize it when I'm in full-blown dysregulation or panic attack. And I'm too fucking old to keep experiencing this. I'm sick of it. 

So I'm starting to pay much closer attention when the nagging anxiety. I'm starting to notice the ripples in the pond before a major hurricane occurs. I still can't sort out where they come from. Likely that swamp of toxic shame is deeper and dirtier than I thought. But I go with whatever I've  got to work with. 

Today, I sourced it to fear over not giving my kids a coupon I'd earned before it expired. Which I know is crazy. So it must be something deeper. I also had one of my famous bizarre nightmares last night. I found an abandoned baby in a church bathroom. My oldest daughter and I were looking formula to feed the baby. Then a woman put my daughter and the baby in a "beautiful baby" contest. I said no. We haven't even fed her or found her parents. But the woman snapped at me to stay out of it, mind my business and let my daughter be. She said the baby would be fine. I backed down but said that if my daughter needed me, I was crashing the contest and coming to help her. The dream ended when I said "you obviously know nothing about at-risk babies. She  hasn't even been fed!"

I'll blog on that more. I think this panic attack came from a constant sense of failure. That I'd somehow let my family down by failing to share the coupon. It hasn't even expired yet! But these are the things I dream about, missing deadlines, losing children, letting them get hurt, failing to do things, not picking kids up on  time, dropping the ball. Things I now recall happened to me on a regular basis. 

Healing from abuse and CPTSD by trusting myself

 Hi friends. I've been working on healing from parental abuse, neglect, abandonment, exploitation, shaming, scapegoating, endangerment and gaslighting from four narcissistic parents. Today, I'm looking at one huge thing I need to start doing and that is trusting myself. 

I've been bossed around, falsely accused, used as a punching bag, told off, pooh-poohed, blamed and shamed, criticized, lied to, gaslit and just made miserable by these people all my life. It extended into and got worse in adulthood. Their kids were now joining in. 

You might ask, why did I let them? You may as well ask the sun why she shines. It's all I knew. They'd been shaming and gaslighting me so long the poisonous arrows were embedded in my brain.   Once you learn something, even if it's wrong (maybe especially if it's wrong), it's virtually impossible to unlearn. No it is impossible. 

They don't even have to say or do anything anymore. I'm trained. I do the gaslighting, shaming, blaming to myself. Even when they die, their voices live on in my mind. So I have a nasty case of CPTSD as a result. I barrage myself continuously with self-doubt, self-recriminations, second-guessing. My self-esteem is shot to hell. Actually, I never had any. I just believed as I was told that I'm the problem. 

So actually, this title is misleading. I say I'm healing from abuse and CPTSD but I'm not. You never heal. You just hopefully find ways to cope. I say I'm learning to trust myself. Nah. The best I can hope for is to just start noticing the constant attacks and deflect them. Because I'm not just stuck in this, I'm buried under it. 

I'm sorry to offer hope and then pull it back. But I have to be real about how badly I really do feel about myself. No one likes to hear it, I get that. They want to be positive, to "cheer me up" But if it denies or minimizes what I'm really feeling, it's false and toxic positivity. Well meant, but still not helpful. And maybe, not even well meant. In a way, it's a perpetuation of the gaslighting. 

I have come to despise phrases like "let go and let God", ""you got this, girl" and especially "rise above" and "just get over it." They are so glib. They minimize what for me is a personal hell. And they just make me feel more ashamed because I effing can't let go, get over, rise above. I don't got this.   You might as well tell me to leap a tall building in a single bound. 

And for crying out loud, don't you think that if I could just get over it, I'd have done so ages ago? I hate this shit with all my being. No one wants me to get better more than me. I want to box it all up and incinerate it. I want do-overs. I want a childhood that wasn't filled with suffering. I want teen years without all the added shame. Those times are hard enough without people torturing you. I'd like to have been celebrated or loved, for a change.  

And it's abundantly clear that anyone who would say these things don't got an effing clue. They aren't experiencing it. If they were, they would not be so blase. It's like telling someone whose loved one has just died, that "he's in a better place." She doesn't want him in a better place. And who are you to pontificate like that? Just shut your mouth and love her, foo. 

So, what can I do? Well, for starters, I can be honest. I can keep saying what I need to if others don't like it, tough shit. I'll probably do that through this blog, though. Being scolded for feeling bad just makes it worse. So I'll consider the source. I can also recognize that nobody really gets it because they didn't live it. When they say unhelpful or hurtful things it just proves that. 

I think the most important thing to do is to poke holes in every crazy, negative thing that comes into my head. Every time I hear their voices mocking or shaming, I can talk it down. I can interrupt. I can contradict, argue with and reject the lies they tell about me. I can call it out and name it. I can listen to the good things people tell me. I can begin telling myself good things. 

10 ugly baffling behaviors of histrionic and narcissistic parents

 Hi friends. I'm working on healing from narcissistic parental abuse from four pathologically histrionic, antisocial and narcissistic (the category B personality disorders) parents. Here are 10 baffling behaviors that histrionic and narcissistic parents display. 

1) They take up all the oxygen in the room. Everything is about them. They require a lot of attention, in fact all the attention. They make every event about themselves. If they feel an event is focusing too much on someone else, they will do something to put themselves in the spotlight. And it's often something outrageous, disturbing or hurtful to someone, particularly the one getting the attention. 

2) They do weird things for shock value. Attention is good. Shocked, comfortable attention that makes their victim feel self-conscious or insecure, is better. The type of behavior differs depending on the type of narcissism or histrionic pattern (malignant, covert, overt). My narcissistic/histrionic mother threw a pie in my face at her work picnic. 

3) They don't see or hear themselves as others do. Their narcissistic/ histrionic delusions are so off that they don't realize that how odd they seem My dad believed that he was a preacher and a missionary despite having zero training or background. He would get mad when whatever church he happened to be in at the time, didn't allow him to preach. My narcissistic mother wore nightgowns in public. 

4) Narcissistic behavior changes as they age. People who begin as grandiose narcs tend to become more covert or malignant as they age. My mother was big grandiose when she was young and "hot". (I put that in quotes because that's how she saw herself. I feel uncomfortable with the word). As she got older, she decided that if she couldn't be the hottest anymore, she'd be the most pathetic (covert) Any attention is better than none at all. As I matured, she felt outshone and her behavior toward me became malignant. 

5) Narcs are waaaaayy off sexually. Both my parents used to run around buck naked in front of me. My dad took me on dates with his 17-year-old girlfriend when he was 34. My mom wore sexualized clothing, dressed as a hooker for a church Halloween party and a bikini in front of my friends. This was not acceptable back then. She talked to me about sex all the time, starting when I was 7. She spared no gory detail. She and her boyfriends were loud during intimacy. She tells people she  sleeps naked and paraded around my home nude, in front of my kids. 

6) Malignant narcissistic parents purposely expose their children to icky situations. My mom began having affairs when I was 6. She left me alone in unfamiliar places for days at a time. At least one affair was with a married man. They would make out in front of me. His wife came to our house one day and knocked her down the stairs. She blatantly lived with her boyfriend in our quite conservative community. She left me to care for her foster kids, night and day. 

7) Narcissistic parents are hypocrites. Both my parents put me in dangerous situations. They didn't monitor me. I was wandering alone at age 4 or 5. My mom had a foster care home which closed due to abuse. They lived immorally and very contrary to the Bible. Yet both believed themselves to be model Christians. They preached continually to others on how to live. 

8) Narcissistic and histrionic parents aren't safe. You cross them at your peril. Even if they just think you are questioning them, watch out. My  mom let her (chronically unemployed, abusive) boyfriend sexually harass, mock, hurt, attack and shame me. Later, he kicked me out of the house when I was 16 because I came home an hour late. The two times I confronted my mom on something, she went ballistic. Then she triangulated her husband against me. My dad went nuts and beat me once because he thought I wasn't happy enough about losing my bedroom and being made to sleep in a tiny room with their baby.

9) Narc parents gaslight with every breath. They like attention except when they are being held accountable for bad behavior. Then they pull out every dirty trick to make themselves the victims. They lie, mock, shame, humiliate, distort and throw sand in your eyes. Mine scapegoated me to deflect attention away from their abandonment, exploitation, manipulation, abuse, neglect, parentification, shaming and endangerment. They invent things you supposedly did and then crucify you for them. 

10) Narc parents get you to hate yourself. All the shocking acts. All the bizarre talk. All the out-of-the-blue accusations. All the exaggerated punishment. All the of the betrayal, backstabbing and passive-aggressive cruelty. All that sewage rots in your brain till pretty soon you don't feel fit to live. At least I did. 

This is only a sample of the baffling behaviors. If you're living with it, know you're not alone. I see you. You're not the problem. What you can do about it? I'm not the one to ask because I did nothing and just suffered with it all these years. Looking back, I'd at least tell a safe adult preferably one who can help. Don't keep it inside. You're doing no one any favors least of all yourself. Make noise but with safe people. Abusive parents aren't those people. Then get out of Dodge as soon as you realistically can. That's the only thing that saved me. 

Love, mar

7 reasons why I have to catalog every bad thing that happened in childhood

 Hi friends. If you follow this blog, you know I've been working on healing the childhood trauma I experienced throughout my life with my "family." I'm deconstructing the abuse (physical, emotional, mental, social, sexual, religious, financial and medical), neglect, abandonment, endangerment, exploitation, parentification, family scapegoating, mocking, toxic shaming and gaslighting about it all. 

And you may question why I always list each type of abuse that  happened, separately. Or maybe you don't. But the shrieking harpies in my head do. My brain is full of flying monkeys telling me that I'm showing off and making it up. That's one result of narcissistic abuse. My brain gaslights itself with questioning, undermining, insulting and name-calling. And that's one reason why I have to catalog every bad thing that happened. It's one of seven reasons, actually. I'll get back to it so I can do them in order. 

First, I need to fill you in on my very bizarre (for the time, I was born in 1964) family structure and dynamic. My parents were both very self-absorbed. They left me unattended from around age 4, for long periods of time. Neither one held consistent jobs and I  have no memory of a bedroom, bed or toys. But they  had money for expensive breed dogs, riding lessons, English saddles, etc. We moved around a lot and actually squatted at various times. When I was 5, they moved to Alaska to be missionaries (unsanctioned by any church). My dad left immediately to in his words "preach." He wasn't a preacher either, except in his mind. So this just meant that he wandered around Alaska on a kind of freebird gap year, family  be damned. 

My mom did her own thing and I wandered downtown Haines Alaska on my own. We lived with different people. Neither parent worked yet never had time for me. I walked to school alone. I was cared for by a native Tlingit couple in their 80s. Then she moved to an  island up the inland passage. I had no idea where my dad was. She told me they were getting divorced which in 1970. She left me for a week with strangers. Then moved us back to Michigan. 

My dad came back a year or so later. He got remarried almost immediately after a failed relationship with a 17-year-old (he was 34). I was bounced between homes. His wife did not want to include me in their new family until she realized how useful I could be around the house and with her kids. She and my dad bullied me into being their au pair, nanny, housekeeper and personal maid. My mother had affairs with various married men. Then opened a foster care home, met a guy whom she moved into our house. They didn't work and left me to care for the kids. Then they lost the foster care home, moved around a lot, got married. Her new husband was very abusive to me and she let him be so. He would later kick me out of the house when I was 16. Neither my mom nor my dad ever took my part against their very abusive spouses and would egg them on to further exploitation. 

It's the abbreviated version but it gives you an idea of just how bizarre and foreign my life was compared to the kids around me. And it helps explain how the complex was the abuse, coming from four different "parents" each with his or her own spin. Among them all, my life became a messy mix of abuse (physical, mental, emotional, religious, sexual, social, financial, medical), neglect, abandonment, exploitation, cruelty, bullying, exploitation, parentification, shaming, scapegoating and gaslighting about it all. So on to the reasons

Reason 1 why I have to list each type of abuse: to begin to accept that it happened. I don't know who needs to hear this but if you have been the victim of narcissistic parental abuse, you have also been gaslit into thinking you're the problem. You are not. They are. It's them. They have catechized you on the Narcissist's prayer. (credit to Dayna Craig). 

That didn't happen.

And if it did, it wasn't that bad.

And if it was, that's not a big deal.

And if it is, that's not my fault.

And if it was, I didn't mean it.

And if I did, you deserved it.

Reason 2 why I have to list each type of abuse. To begin to put it in perspective. All my life, I accepted whatever they dished out: the slapping, harassment, beating, name-calling, sexualizing, betrayal, mockery, ignoring. I worked like a dog to please them, doing pretty much all their work. Sleeping with their kids and getting up at night with babies from around age 11. I never realized how bizarre and abusive it was. Now that I have words for it, I'm using them to sort out what happened. 

Reason 3 to list each separately: to sort out how they did it and how it was wrong. I always defended every weird, hurtful or traumatizing thing my four parents did. I never questioned. Worst of all, (here's the part of the parentification) I parented them while they exploited me. I was expected to be surrogate parent and spouse, while also being obedient, subservient and scapegoat. They wanted the perks of being parents with none of the work. I had to be both parent and child. Cataloging how they did this helps me begin to frame how it was wrong. 

Reason 4 to list each abuse separately: to begin to see how each type of abuse affected me. Every thing I've listed are forms of abuse. But each affects me differently. Being hit makes me chronically flinch. Being emotionally abused makes me hate myself. Being neglected makes me feel worthless...a few examples. 

Reason 5. to quit gaslighting myself. For so many years, they each made me feel like the problem. I was disobedient, angry, selfish, lazy, too sensitive, too critical, on and on. All that has culminate in my gaslighting myself. They don't even have to incant the Narcissist's prayer  anymore. I do it for them. I still don't honestly believe that I'm not the problem. But hopefully I'll start to. 

Reason 6 to unpick the Narc prayer, line by line:

That didn't happen. YES IT DID. YOU DID THOSE THINGS TO ME

And if it did, it wasn't that bad. YES THEY WERE. THEY WERE WORSE THAN BAD. THEY WERE AWFUL. THEY FELT AWFUL. 

And if it was, that's not a big deal. IT IS A HUGE DEAL!!!! YOUR ABUSE HAS CRIPPLED ME.

And if it is, that's not my fault. IT IS ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT. YOU ARE THE PARENT. YOU HURT ME, ALLOWED AND ENCOURAGED OTHERS TO HURT ME. 

And if it was, I didn't mean it. YES YOU DID. THESE THINGS WERE NOT ACCIDENTS. YOU HAD TO GO OUT OF YOUR WAY TO WREAK SUCH HAVOC. IT IS UNNATURAL, IMMORAL AND DEVASTATING. 

And if I did, you deserved it. AHAHA. NOW WE COME TO IT. THIS WAS YOURGAME ALL ALONG. TO MAKE ME THE SCAPEGOAT FOR EVERYTHING. TO BLAME ME FOR IT ALL. TO SHAME ME FOR IT ALL. I DESERVED NONE OF IT. I DESERVED LOVE NOT ABUSE, CARE NOT NEGLECT! RESPECT NOT SHAME! SUPPORT NOT EXPLOITATION! NURTURE NOT ABANDONMENT! I DESERVED TO BE PART OF THE FAMILY NOT APART. INCLUDED NOT EXCLUDED. I DESERVED TO BE A CHILD, NOT AN OVERWORKED, UNPAID EMPLOYEE. I DESERVED TRUTH NOT GASLIGHTING AND LIES. 

Reason 7. to find a way out of this effed up, screwed over, cluster-eff of misery and suffering that all this has caused. I don't want to write these posts anymore. I want joy, not a fake pasted on smile to keep others happy or at least not mad. I want to live my life not theirs. I wan to stop hating myself for things I was framed for doing but never did. I want to feel some satisfaction that I occasionally do something right. I want to restore the wounded kid in me to full health. 

Physical symptoms of CPTSD: health issues from childhood trauma. abuse and neglect

 Hi friends. I've written a lot about the emotional problems I experience from CPTSD, childhood trauma and parental abuse and neglect. Today I'm exploring the physical symptoms of early trauma. Many of these health issues (and they are many) are things I've experienced all my life but  never connected with  abuse and neglect. 

Quick backstory if you're reading for the first time. I grew up in unhealthy, unsafe conditions with four narcissistically abusive adults (two bio parents and their new partners). I was abused emotionally, physically, sexually, financially and medically, neglected, deprived of basic care, exploited, parentified, scapegoated, abandoned, endangered, toxically shamed and gaslit about it all, by all four of my parents. I only just, at 59, started really unpacking and talking about it. 

It's the medical abuse or actually medical neglect that I'm exploring today. But really, all the abuse, neglect, shaming, scapegoating, exploitation, endangerment and abandonment factor in. So the physical symptoms and conditions associated with CPTSD? Some of these might sound odd. But research has shown me that they are in fact quite commonly seen in childhood trauma survivors. 

But first, a word on the medical neglect (or neglect of medical care). This was part of a much larger pattern of neglect, deprivation, endangerment and abandonment. It began when I was a baby, in several ways. I was diagnosed with Congenital Hip Dysplasia and put in a Pavlik brace. All my mom remembers is that I cried and interrupted her but then got used to it.

It's my grandparents who told me about it. They worried all the things normal parents would worry about, but mine didn't. Once the brace was off, my parents seemed to forget all about it. No one ever checked to see of I had any residual problems. They didn't keep up with any follow-up. When I started having back problems (scoliosis, spina bifida and later, arthritis), no one cared. The fact that my dad and stepmom made me do all the heavy housework, vacuuming, mopping on hands and knees, ironing, sleeping with their babies and getting up at night with them,  climbing snowbanks to get laundry off the line (for real) tells me they didn't care a hoot if I had back problems or not. And they clearly never connected it with my hip problems. 

Now just a segue here on that. I've said before that their (expensive breed) dogs ate better than I did. Well, beyond that, they had better medical care. (this has a point, so bear with me). I recall all the vet visits their dogs had. When I asked why I might have so many back problems and could it be related to my hip issue, my dad got furious. He accused me of questioning his decision to put me in a brace and said "why don't you just sue me??" 

Of course I wasn't. I was just desperate to get feedback that might help. And that shut up any from him. I actually felt ashamed for asking and apologized. I apologized a lot to my dad for things I've not done.  But now I see that he felt stupid because he didn't know because he hadn't bothered to find out what the repercussions might be. But he knew all about the dog's problems. And it was, ironically, reading about German shepherds that led me to find the arthritis/ hip dysplasia link. Shepherds are prone to hip dysplasia and often develop arthritis from it and that ends up killing them. I find it further annoying how much info there is about dogs with these conditions and how little about  humans. I guess a lot of other people prioritize animals over people too. 

But it doesn't really matter because anything that could have been done about it then, wasn't and now I'm stuck with the arthritis, fused vertebra and neckbones, twisted spine, etc. And there we have ugly Mr. Medical Neglect to thank, again. Because they weren't there, they didn't care, it wasn't cared for, lather rinse repeat. 

All of which brings me back to my point which is the toll that abuse and neglect take on your health into adulthood. Being very self-centered, my parents were too preoccupied with themselves to have time for me. They still are. It's not a problem now because I cut most contact. But kids can't do that. They rely on parents. Or should be able to. But selfish parents are also incredibly unreliable. So I had to care for myself which was of course, impossible. Another vicious circle. 

I have had eye problems since I was a baby. But no one thought to have my vision tested or get me glasses till I was 12 and nearly blind. I've had years of headaches, blurred vision. I've had allergy issues since I was a kid but (wait for it) only just got tested as an adult. I had breathing problems that I only found out was apnea in adulthood. I've lived with chronic nightmares since I was 4 which I now know are CPTSD. And all my mom and her boyfriend did was to laugh at me because I talked and walked in my sleep. 

When I was six and we had moved to Alaska, I began having chronic throat problems. It didn't help that we were squatting in unheated homes without running water or electricity. Or that I was sleeping on the ground, floor or in a camp bed most of the time. Or that no one made sure I was getting enough to eat. Or that my dad had left us to wander around Alaska "preaching" and my mom was doing her own thing (having affairs, running off to Seattle, etc.). Or that I spent the majority of my time alone, homeless and wandering the town. 

But anyway, my throat got really bad. And they took me to an army MASH unit where I got cough drops. They didn't help. And my throat kept getting worse. Then my parents split and I was moved back to Michigan with my mom. Dad was still on perpetual holiday. By the time I was 9, I was chronically sick (like in missing 40 days of school in one year) with tonsillitis, strep throat and swollen glands. I was kept on penicillin for months at a time. That stripped out my immune system. I was left home alone when I was sick. My dad was back in town but I guess no one thought to have him come and stay with me? Or his new wife? Or my mom could have gotten a babysitter? But why would they? So I just managed on my own. 

It was only when my grandparents pushed them to find out what the actual was going on and why was nothing being done about it. Finally I had my tonsils out, was left alone all day to recuperate, got incredibly sick and lost a quarter of my body weight.  My mom and dad had their heads so far up their own asses that nobody noticed that I hadn't eaten in 3 weeks, following surgery. 

It was a little neighbor girl that brought it to my mom's attention that I was crying when trying to swallow some water. And then my mom got mad and forced me to eat applesauce which burned like hellfire. I think she was mad that yet again, someone else had to point out to her what would have been obvious to any parent. Or that someone would report her negligence leaving me alone so much. Or that I just interrupted her life. 

Another time, still living with my mom, I fell out of bed and broke my cheekbone. She just looked at it and said I'd be fine and to go to school. When I got to school, one half of my face was swollen to softball size. The school sent me home, thinking she'd do something about it. But she didn't. It wasn't till my dad saw me a few days later and said I needed it x-rayed that we found out I'd cracked my face. 

These are just a few of the instances of neglect I've lived with. And how it affects me now is probably not surprising. I have a lot of chronic pain but I'm so used to it that it has to get really bad before I do anything about it. And because I'm so used to being ignored, marginalized, dismissed and even punished for expressing a need, I don't. As one therapist put said "Girl, you have a scary high pain tolerance." 

After parental narcissistic abuse I'm not reparenting but just OG parenting

Hey friends, piggybacking on the last post, I'm looking today at how, after parental narcissistic abuse, I'm not reparenting but OG parenting myself. There is a lot of talk in childhood trauma survival about reparenting the wounded inner child. But if you missed out on a lot of it originally, as I did, you need to start from scratch. Especially if you were taught a lot of wrong things and gaslit about what was actually happening. 

Therapist and Youtuber Patrick Teahan and I must telepathically channel each other. Because just as I began to consider the many deficits I had in upbringing, he makes a video on developmental delays experienced due to abuse and neglect (which is just another form of abuse, thanks Patrick for affirming that). I've heard it called brain damage which is so accurate too. 

I can't remember any time that my life, up to early adulthood with my parents and their new spouses and families didn't include multiple forms of abuse. There was physical, sexual, emotional, mental, social, financial and medical abuse. At various times I was abandoned, endangered, exploited, gaslit, manipulated, shamed, parentified, scapegoated and always neglected. I was subjected to Draconian punishments for minor to nonexistent infractions. I was expected to do kinds of very adult things since around age 4 or 5. I was left to wander alone with no supervision, throughout my life . I was left out and left behind and regularly lied to. I was subjected to incredibly inappropriate adult behavior. I was gaslit that this was okay because my mom or dad was doing it but that others were wrong to. There was a looooot of hypocrisy. 

I was not taught to take care of myself. In fact, I was systematically indoctrinated not to care for myself. That it was sinful and selfish. My place was to care for others, to wait on, serve and let them hurt and exploit me. I was told that my normal kid behavior was wicked and selfish. Punishment was Draconian and cruel. I learned that to think or feel was wrong. If I expressed frustration or questioned, I was showing off or being "lippy." I had my mouth washed out with soap when I was 5 and by 8, was getting slapped across the face on a regular basis. I still don't know what I did or said that was wrong. Yet I was expected to know how to do things that many adults couldn't do, without any training. I spent a lot of time on my own, except when I had chores to do. Which was a lot. But even then, they pretty much ignored me, unless I randomly annoyed them. This happened a lot without warning too. And again, I still don't know what I did to upset them. 

So in all of this, I learned a lot of very dangerous things about myself, the world, and my place in it. I learned to expect to be hurt and exploited and that was what God wanted. What I didn't learn were , healthy coping skills and survival skills. I also had no social skills. I was used to watching my mom and dad and their spouses for cues. And that didn't serve me well. They did and said a lot of weird things I discovered did go over too well outside their little narcissistic fantasy worlds. They had a lot of odd ideas that didn't fit in well either. And being narcissists, they often behaved in awkward ways. 

I know you might think, oh yeah, all parents are weird to a kid. But it wasn't that. They weren't overprotective or anything like that. They weren't protective at all. They didn't care what I did so long as I was around to do the work. It was other adults who thought they were weird: kind of show-offy, oddly flirty, melodramatic, pouty, loudly Christian but also provocative and overtly sexual. Off behavior around kids. It wasn't me that thought so. I was always team parents. They could do no wrong in my eyes. I'll blog more on this later. 

The long and short of it is that I got zero, zilch, nada good and a lot of bizarre examples, of how be with other people. I had to kind of separate "real world" from "parent world" because the two were so different. I had to juxtapose how they did things and how everyone else around me (including their parents) was doing things. I had to be puppet-like, rigidly obedient, subservient and military respectful at home. I could never say how different my life outside home was. I could never bring problems home. They didn't care what happened as long as I played my part.

Dissociation and cognitive dissonance became my norm. I saw what was going on around me. I could see how polar opposite much of my life was. I was continually bewildered by my parents very unparental care of me vs. their apparent need for me to care for them. I saw other kids be kids with fairly reasonable expectations while I had all these adult things I was supposed to do. I saw other kids and adults react negatively to my parents' immoral and unsettling behavior. Yet I could never articulate that it was. It was wrong but okay because they did it. It was like living in parallel universes with very dissimilar rules, both of which were baffling to me. 

Living in this constant flux, had a disastrous effect on me. It caused my mind to existentially fracture. Then factor in all the neglect, gaslighting and constant nightmares. I literally believed that whatever bad I  got was good enough for who it was for. There were many times when I did not know reality from illusion. I still have trouble sorting it out. 

And factor in that it was very dangerous for me to express anything contrary to them. I was horribly embarrassed for example, that my mom was living with her boyfriend and that they behaved in rude, uncouth and immoral ways. She moved her brother and his girlfriend into my bedroom. They smoked, drank, cursed, partied and no one worked. It was worse because we went to church every Sunday and she considered herself a model Christian. 

But in 1972, where I lived, no one did this that I knew of.  It was considered trashy, Christian or not. I know people were talking about her, calling her loose and accusing her of "running around." Which she was and had been for years. But how does a child process all that? What kind of a terrible daughter would I be if I said anything. 

But I had to just paste a fake smile on and pretend it was okay. It wouldn't do to question my mom or do anything to thwart her getting what she wanted.  Even if it meant me getting really busted up in the process. And with her loose cannon boyfriend  whom she pitted against me and anyone who crossed her, I definitely  wasn't safe. Better to just play along and wear the perma-grin. 

So this is getting to novel length, lol. And I haven't really even touched on parenting vs. reparenting. I'll blog more about it but for now I'll end with this. When all you've gotten is shit in the upbringing department, better to throw it all out and begin fresh. That's what I'm trying to do. 

How parental narcissistic abuse and gaslighting imploded my sense of self

 So a word about my last post if you're following. I was really struggling and in a rough place. It might have read like attention-seeking or a cry for help or even a warning that I was going to self-harm. It wasn't any of those things. I was showing how convincing are the voices in my head, from decades of gaslighting by four narcissistic adult authority figures (two parents and their new spouses). I was repeating what I'd been told and what had been insinuated to me--that I was THE problem and the ONLY problem in their new lives with their new spouses and kids. 

I was told was told these people were my family. But based on their scapegoating, neglect, abuse, endangerment, abandonment, exploitation, parentification and toxic shaming, that this was just more abuse and gaslighting. Real families do not exclude one child. They don't make her raise their other children or parent them (parentification). They don't single her out to do the bulk of the housework and childcare. They do not force her to dance attendance on their new partners. If divorced, they do not even expect her to obey the new partners as if they were bosses, certainly not when they're not even married yet but just living together. And that's just the start of the crazy I've lived with. 

And piggy-backing on this issue of me being the real problem. It's true that I was, if you look at things from my four "parents" self-centered perspectives. This won't be easy, I warn you. Because the "center of the universe" attitude runs deep with these four people. They want what they want when they want it, regardless of how hypocritical it might be or who they have to step on to get it. And it changes without warning. It was not difficult for me because I grew up enslaved to what mommy, daddy, stepmom  and stepdad wanted and needed and any given moment. I was used to it never being good enough. I made excuses for them and just kept trying harder. What I didn't see was how dysfunctional this all was or that it was all just a big narcissistic fantasy and not real life. Most other kids didn't live with this tree-ring circus of chaos. 

But it's their very immature, self-absorbed, demanding behavior that points the way. Self-centered people think only about what they want, think, need and feel. Mostly want. Not only did they want to make up the rules as they went along, they wanted others to unilaterally applaud every selfish thing they did.  The "above it all" ness was so prevalent, that they actually preached against the very things they were doing. And yes, in my mom's and dad's case I literally mean preach. Both of them fancied themselves legitimate ministers despite having zero training. And most egregious (and confusing to me), they were living very counter to what they preached. 

And they were very good at knowing what God wanted, for others. They were very generous with others' money. They had all these ideas which others were supposed to fund. They had no intention of doing any of the actual leg word. The were the preachers of the word, not the doers.  

But my grandparents, on both sides, saw right through them. They were loving, but also gently honest about the hypocritical, selfish, "sinful" (their words) lives my parents were leading. And this did not sit well with any of the "big four." They did not like being crossed. So the grandparents were cast as the villains of the piece, too critical, unloving, yada yada. And it wasn't just my extended family. Reality bit down on their narcissistic fantasies too. 

So they spent a lot of time disappointed, self-pitying and resentful when something got in the way of whatever delusion they had at the time, and it happened quite frequently. Except with me. I was eternally empathic, giving and eager to please. Unfortunately, this made me the perfect target and scapegoat. I was so enmeshed in their feelings, wants and needs (this part is profoundly sad) that I did not acknowledge or even know I had feelings, wants and needs of my own. 

This is part of the heart-breaking brain damage that neglect, abuse, abandonment, endangerment, exploitation, parentification, toxic shaming, scapegoating and gaslighting about it all, creates. I had poured myself into them, emptied myself of anything that might displease them, so entirely that I wasn't really a person. Just a kind of straw person. And the other sad part in this sad saga is that the more I poured the more was expected. It was as if they were wells without bottom. And it was pointless, because it was just peed away. I know what the scripture means about casting pearls before swine. 

So how was I the problem? I was never going to be able to fulfill their dreams for them. I was never even going to be able to make them happy or content. I was always going to let them down because their expectations were too high. Selfish people can never be satisfied. You can never give enough. They are one big behemoth, like Monstro the whale in Pinocchio, everything goes in and nothing comes out. I truly could have given till I died, and they'd have just  walked over my carcass and on to the next victim. 

And at the very core, was the inescapable truth that no one, especially not a child, can be your prop through life. No one is responsible to make you, your new spouse, your new kids, happy.  should be expected to  can, or even should do things for you that are yours alone to do. And my parents, like all parents, were responsible to me not the other way around. And they not only dropped the ball, they threw it as far from themselves as possible. 

And now I have the onerous task of trying to reassemble the shattered mess that is me. I saw reassemble but really it's just assemble. Just as I'm not reparenting myself, but OG parenting. 

I got it all wrong. I really am the problem.

 All the stuff I've written previously, I got wrong. All the abusive, neglectful, exploitative, harmful, dangerous things that  happened were what I deserved, just like they said. All the times they abandoned, excluded, shunned and scapegoated me, I brought on myself. Either that or it didn't  happen. I just made it up to show off and get attention. 

All the times I thought that by "helping out" when my dad demanded it, weren't good enough. In fact they were actually disobedience because I didn't have the right spirit. When my mom's boyfriend attacked me for "shaking a baby" he was right. I was and still am a worthless piece of shit. When he kicked me out of the house, he was right. I came home an hour late and deserved it. When my mom left me alone in Alaska with strangers, I was being selfish to feel scared. When she let her boyfriend mistreat me, it was his right. 

When I had to wait on my dad's new wife, that was fair. It wasn't my home and I had to earn my keep. And they could make up the rules as they went along. Being hungry a lot with no bedroom of my own, no time to myself,  being made to get up at night with the baby, having difficulty staying awake at school, that was perfectly okay and how selfish of me not to do it joyfully. And I should not feel good about helping because there is always more to do. More to give. If I'm giving on a exhausted empty stomach, who cares? 

This is where I am right now. I can't even cry although my eyes are overflowing with tears because I'm so disgusted with the mess I am. And how I've ruined so many peoples' lives. Where would I even begin to sort it out? I can never get it right. God has given up on me because I've let him down so many, many times.

But one question. Why then do I not remember doing these terrible things that my nightmares and voices in my head say I've done? Why do I remember trying so hard to get it right? Why do I remember loving others so much that it burns and aches? Worrying for them, agonizing over them? Why will it never be enough?