To My Family I’ve Died

You know how family is always supposed to be there? Mommy and daddy are supposed to protect their kids and raise them to be functioning members of society… Well I got the dad who drank and got angry. I mean voices up and hands-on aggressive angry. Then there’s the mommy who was too wrapped up in herself to take care of her kids. Sometimes you get dealt some pretty shitty cards… I learned from a very young age that you bottle up all your feelings and just smile trying to get through the day. It was easier to be exactly what my parents needed. I was constantly seeking validation from them. Mind you I was about 8 when I began to actually be molded to be what my mother needed. She was an over sharer. I knew way too much, way too early in my life. I took parental responsibility for my sister while my parent were busy getting drunk in screaming about how much they hated their lives. My parents were so oblivious that when I was abused it was in their house and went on for two years. At some point you would think someone would recognize their bad parenting. 
They didn’t even notice when I began to self harm at the age of 12. I was suicidal and withdrawn. They used to say “she’s just clumsy” and “she’s always getting hurt.” I was doing it to myself. I needed someone to see me. It was at this time that my mother went through her depression. For months she slept on the couch. Some days she didn’t even turn on the lights. My dad couldn’t be bothered with her. He worked endless hours to stay away. She became my responsibility. I wasn’t allowed to sleep in my room anymore. I had to sleep on the couch with my mother. She molded me into her little best friend. I was treated like an adult and privileged with knowledge that to this day I wish I could forget. I was​ tasked with taking care of my sister and making sure she was doing okay​. When my mother pulled out of her depression​ I though “thank goodness! Maybe now she will notice…” But she didn’t. She went on to act like a 21 year old and drink and party with a gay neighbor of ours. She tried to use him to replace the void of my older brother (he moved out when he was 14 and began living with my grandparents). 

Life was one big rollercoaster ride for me. Just when I felt safe I would get dropped from 1000 feet up and land on my head! At least that’s what it always felt like. I wasn’t allowed to say no to my mother. EVER! This continued into my college years. Again my mother fell into a depression when I moved into my dorm freshman year of college. At one point I was going to school monday morning leaving Tuesday evening. Returning to school Thursday morning and returning home friday night. My mother would continuously threaten suicide while I was at school. i literally felt like her life was in my hands… Again she came out of her depression and I started my junior year of school. This was the first year I started to rebel. My mother got mad because I decided to say at school more. She said I was betraying her. That I must hate her and that’s what I was torturing her so. Mind you, my father was still in the picture but him and my mother hated each other. When I came home from school I was still not allowed to stay in my room. I was 21 years old! I was still supposed to sleep on the couch so my mommy didn’t feel alone…
I love my family. But they were suffocating me. I literally felt like I was dying. The final straw was when I finally confronted my them about not being there for me when I was sexually abused for two years in their house as a child. It was under their noses. I confronted them about my mysterious (self-inflicted) wounds throughout my teens. Their denial and continued need for me to validate them was too much for me. I never got support I needed and they bleed me dry of every resource I had when I was with them. I had nothing left for myself. My whole life was about my mother’s happiness.
It has been a year. It’s a year to the day that I last spoke to my parents. My sister can’t talk to me. My parents have threatened her college tuition if she does. I’m lucky enough to have friends and very close relatives who are still there for me. But my parents refuse to talk to me until I “get over myself.” It’s a horrible feeling. It’s like being revictimised all over every time I talk to them. Staying away from them is the best thing for me but that doesn’t stop it from being painful. I hate not having a family. As dysfunctional and insane as my family was growing up I still have a want to belong! I miss my sister. I wish I could see her. I wish my parents would change. Hope is the most empty thing I have. I want for my family to be something it will never be. They will never be there for me in the way I need them to be. I can’t change them… It’s a hard reality to accept. 


Author: Kenzie

I am a 24 year old Marriage and Family Therapy graduate student at Fairfield University. I graduated salutatorian of my undergraduate class with a Bachelors Degree in Psychology from Mitchell College. I will graduate from Fairfield with my Masters degree in December of 2017. Check me & my cat out on instagram: My Account: @Kenzie_quotes_22 Cats' Account: @Ajaxcheetto Thanks for Visiting!!! 🙋❤😺😸 Check me out on Deviant Art:

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