This is an important essay. Sometimes we try so hard for too long, recalling the child they once were, who might've been good and kind. We think they're still in there, that we can "save" them; they just need a friend and a little guidance. But when is enough, enough? Boundaries. I'm glad you saved yourself from further trauma by this man, and I hope you're living a happier life ❤️
Similar situation. I was called to come to the hospital when he was dying and I had to question them to make sure that they were sure he wanted ME to be there. I couldn’t drive at the time and arrived just after he passed. All I could say to him was “Who did you have to be so stubborn?”
My father’s funeral was one of the most traumatic events of my life. Over 300 people showed up to sing his praises and tell me how lucky I was to have such a good man as my father. There was no way for them to know the monster he was at home, the lies we rehearsed, the abuse and manipulation that we endured. So glad you knew how to set healthy boundaries and skip the funeral. ❤️
I am now the primary caregiver for my 92-year-old father, the man who verbally abused my mother until she died in 2006. He was a narcissistic asshole who drank until he passed out every night, after screaming and arguing with either my mother or me and my siblings. We would go to bed believing we were not important, stupid, crybabies..., or worse, anything to make sure we knew who was in charge and always right. The next morning, we would come to breakfast with a father who acted like the night before didn't happen, and we were supposed to pretend the same lie.
Through a lifetime of therapy and working through all of the issues from such a household, I have changed, but the only thing that has changed about him is the alcohol - he quit drinking after a bad fall that landed him in the hospital for three days. Now, when he starts his shit, pounding on the kitchen table like a 2-yr-old, I just walk away, never engaging in an argument he loves to have. I am blessed that my siblings also help with this care, all of us as compassionate as we would be to anyone, but we all bear the scars of those tornadic nights growing up - hate the sin but forgive the sinner, I suppose.
Any yes, our whole town believes he is just the greatest thing since sliced bread. Only my few classmates who witnessed his rage during sleepovers have a clue what his true nature is. I'm so sorry you also had a monster for a father and were subjected to his funeral of disillusioned attendees. I'm sure I will soon have to endure the same.
Oh, Lynne! This is so. very. difficult. to. bear. I wish I could hug you. I am so thankful that you have supportive siblings. I do too, and it is such a blessing. Thanks for sharing your story with me. I feel honored. May God bless you and keep you in the difficulty of your journey. May you find the support and encouragement you need to do this painful thing well, and if you find that you cannot do it, that's okay too.
I absolutely agree with you. This was a beautiful and honest piece and it unwrapped the layers of narcissistic abuse with a quiet, yet dignified anger. It is always the right thing to walk away and cut those ties.
"People told me I’d regret it. “You only have one father,” I've walked a similar road- It was a painstakingly long process to release the emotional hold my narcissistic father had on me. You are strong and brave and only the ones who've walked the road of bankrupting their heart for an abusive person could understand. Thank you for your beautiful vulnerability.
I never regret not going back for my father’s funeral. I had a last conversation with him in hospital, while he was still in a condition of semi-ambulatory, attached to an IV line on a portable Pole on wheels.
He was in the long process of dying from throat & lung cancer. An addicted, heavy cigarette smoker + alcoholic, for only he knew how long. He’s favorite words for too long, “ No the smoke can’t bother you, I’m blowing it the other way.” This said in reaction, to my as polite as possible”, desperate requests, to “please, Dad put out your cigarette, you know I’m allergic to the smoke. I can’t breathe,”. Only. Very Rarely, begrudgingly, did he put it out. Usually if a sympathetic, vocally supportive person, knew how often I’d had strep throat, or upper respiratory infections, rheumatic fever as a kid, said to him, or glared narrowed eyes. Did he Put it out. Or go outside, or another room. Once it was my young son, in the car, who watched the taunting, disrespect. And spoke up: “Grampa, Mom asked you nicely, you know it makes her sick. She told you it blows back into the back window, it really does. Why are you so mean to her? She said We’ll take a cab home. I don’t want her to get sick, again. My mother who was driving, glared at him! He looked sheepish. Finally he put it out!
It was few year’s later, after a traumatic 4th of July, this time it was the alcohol; he was already woozy by 11 am when they arrived, early as we were getting the food ready to BBQ.
My mother been asking for help, dad had been falling asleep burning cigarette in his mouth, she’d wake to a smoldering blanket. Her fear he’d set the house on fire and they’d be engulfed in flames.
Instead it was soon my husband, as he added starter fluid to charcoal’s in our Weber Grill. My dad had mixed himself a martini, wandered over to watch, slithered closer & too close as he reached into his pocket… oddly leaned in to right into his pocket, WTF!
pulled out matches + Lit flames flared as he tossed them quickly under right arm, into stream of lighter fluid KABLOOOEEE !!!!!!!!!
Just as hubby Jerked Arm UP STEPPING GIANT STEP BACK & ARM/ CAN HIGH UP IN AIR!!!!!!!! Right Arm Leg as he…..
PULLED HANDLE with LEFT , WHEELS ROLLING GRILL AWAY, from House so NO HIGH FLAMES SHOOTING UP 4’ caught Fire! A Miracle mere Millimeters!
SMELL OF BURNING SINGED HAIR, was from Eye Brows, Arms Legs…. only, a narrow, close escape because Terry saw match coming, reacted instantly, blessedly he was Sooo tall, 6’5” Long Legs & Arms, a Golfer, Fast Swing, reactions Saved his Life!
Saw That Danger in Knick of Time! Saved himself, and our house, from Low roof, just far away enough, Mercifully!
Knocked father back, Was he Furious with my Father,” What did You Try to Kill Me? Set our House on Fire, Crazy man, What’s Wrong with you? How much you Drink, lunatic?!”
Mother’d been Shreiking ROSS, What’s wrong with you?
His, Smirking, reply, was Gleaming eyes “ I had it under control @ All times, as if it was fun, “giggling. sly look, then arms crossed over chest, as if proud. Mother just embarrassed, sulked. She wanted to go home. Husband enraged, huffed off, inside, slammed door. “When grilling ready, I’ll do meat, eat, watch golf ‘till then.”
Dead silence ‘till meal, in shock, ate, they left, We talked about, out of control, dangerous Alcoholic, after they went home. I consulted Clergy for Help, referrals. Went to AlAnon + ACOA support, to deal with wall of Denials
Parents went home to tell relative an entire Fictitious story, didn’t have any semblance of what happened. Father convinced mom, non of what occurred even happened. It was only me not wanting him to smoke. A total denial. She went along with Lie. Turned rest of family against me.
Some Friend’s & neighbors of my parents did believe me. One helped me see dad in hospital, alone. He never admitted why. But did say he had a Secret he had to keep, “ to Protect my Poor, Innocent, little mama.” Admitted it was too Much of a burden, for him, that’s why he smoked & drank. it was my Duty too! To Protect her, being born to her. They believed in reincarnation. said that was my choice. I’d choose it. Kept secret.
For me it was my mother. At first I blamed my step-father, he was also a raging narcissist and abuser. It took me a very long time to realise that my mother was an equal participant in the abuse that went on in the house. She enjoyed the attention and was an equal participant in the domestic violence which resulted in her terrified children having to run to public phone boxes in order to call the police. She chose to return to this relationship rather than protecting her children from witnessing and being subjected to this abuse. She added her own physical abuse of her children as well as emotional abuse which for years had me considering myself a failure to such an extent that I abandoned all my dreams in advance rather than subjecting myself to inevitable failure to achieve them.
I cut off contact 6 years ago. In the time since I last spoke to her I have restarted my degree, devoted time and effort to baking (a hobby I have always enjoyed but was constantly told I was not very good at), started writing a monthly baking blog for an actual publication, and have worked up the courage to start regularly applying for The Great British Bake-Off (one day I will get onto that show). Around 18 months after I cut contact she attempted to buy her way back into my life. She offered me £2000. As much as the money would have been useful at that point, I refused to sell my soul.
My daughter will never have to deal with the emotional manipulation and abuse I went through at the hands of this woman. And now, with the help of a community of friends I have build myself, I am financially stable, though nowhere near wealthy. But most importantly, I am happy, and able to work on repairing the damage done to me by maintaining a toxic relationship for 33 years of my life.
Denise your story resonated strongly with me. I chose to be estranged from my father for over 30 years. In a nutshell he chose alcohol and it was the love of his life. I saw him briefly when he was very ill and unable to speak. I think I saw regret in his eyes but it was probably just wishful thinking on my part. My family and I attended his funeral, and at least that allowed us to reconnect with long lost extended family. Some people think I’m a bit stuck up because I prefer to sip wine and won’t drink beer. I have my reasons and I don’t regret my decision at all.
Robyn. You saw regret. Make no mistake about it. When it is “last call”, you get to see what is what. It was probably the most real he had ever been around you.
Too late, yes, but the truth will always have a chance to show itself. Even for the unconscious life.
Death will bring consciousness, even if just for a second, because there is none forthcoming for that being. It must show itself.
It tells me our conscious self is always yearning to break out, break free. But we must allow it.
If we do not, it comes out in sputters at the end, when it is too late.
My mother couldn’t speak in our last moments together. She spoke with her eyes and expressions. That was all I needed.
Hello Eric. The words in your first two lines were like a sharp slap and made me question why I could not believe the regret I clearly saw. Your words made me stop, think and reflect. Because there was no trust between us, I could not trust my own feelings… putting it down to wishful thinking.
Thank you for sharing your insights into those last moments. I have no doubt they were indeed the most real and honest he had ever been around me. There is some comfort in knowing that.
No one who hasn’t walked in your shoes (or similar ones) can judge you. I have two or three narcissists (one malignant) in my immediate family. Talking to folks about family with people who don’t know what that’s like is infuriating: sorry folks, the normal rules just don’t apply. Sometimes you need to cut off from toxic people; sometimes those people are your friend, your parent or God forbid, your child.
I think you can trust your own instincts. When I was in my early 20s, I went through a stage where I was very angry with my mother for putting Dad above us kids, so I kept away for a while. I’m very glad I moved past that, because she was a good person who I know made some poor choices, but she did love us. I was 25 when she passed and I would have regretted not spending more time with her. But with my father I have never had a moment’s regret, it would be insane to keep trying to have a relationship with that man.
Thank you for writing this. I too had difficult parents I mostly chose not to engage with as an adult. My mother died alone and proud and fiercely independent in her world she had curated. I had nothing good to say so also chose not to have a funeral. There would have been a handful of people there at best and none who really knew her. I don’t regret a thing. She made me who I am but I too accepted years before that we were better with minimal contact. Blood is not thicker than water.
This post brings up so many poignant memories. Thank you, Denise. A challenging experience with so many points so meaningfully expressed. I can DITTO many of the others' comments. In my case, it was mostly the mom, though neither were ideal. Went no contact for years. At his funeral, I sat dumbfounded by the glowing eulogy for a man I'd never met. To everyone else, he was a pillar of the community. To me, he was domineering, distant, constantly critical though I think he realized his mistake later in life. I didn't bother with the mom's funeral. I got the "you'll regret it" speech and did call her once a couple weeks before she passed. Got nothing but the same old BS. Felt no loss, only relief.
This was a raw and poignant piece of writing. So sorry for what you, your mum and siblings endured. How very sad that there are people like your dad in this world who choose to mistreat everyone around them. I guess a person really has made a miserable life if nobody wants to give them a funeral. I once attended the funeral of a similar man - we went for his children and grandchildren who I guess felt obligated to hold a service. It was the first funeral I've been to that was devoid of emotion. Where not one nice thing could be said about the deceased. These men could have had the best of lives but they chose their paths...
Thank you for sharing this story. I am impressed by your courage and perseverance.
People who do not have abusive family members, do not understand how cruel and wrong their words are, when they chastise people for escaping. I too come from an abusive family. I did not go to my father's deathbed, and did not cry a single tear when he died. I just felt relieved, that one more asshole was off the planet.
Eerie. Hadn't spoken to mine in 17 years, didn't shed a tear. I was more emotional when my uncle died a few months later. Alcoholism was his excuse for verbal, psychological, and physical abuse - to say I was relieved when my sister called to say "dad didn't want a service" is an understatement, but my relief was because I wouldn't have to explain myself to friends & family why I hadn't shown up. Not how I imagined life would take me, but we play the hand we're dealt & do the best we can & grow from the experiences.
I also ceased contact with my parents. Something that I have difficulty with is the general societal assumption that mothers are amazing, nothing beats a mother’s love and we owe them so much.
I’m happy that most people had the kind of childhood that would cause them to have such positive feelings, but it’s not nice when they assume it was like that for everyone.
This is an important essay. Sometimes we try so hard for too long, recalling the child they once were, who might've been good and kind. We think they're still in there, that we can "save" them; they just need a friend and a little guidance. But when is enough, enough? Boundaries. I'm glad you saved yourself from further trauma by this man, and I hope you're living a happier life ❤️
Thank you. Yes I have enjoyed life as an adult and I have taken gifts from my childhood (lessons on boundaries, self-respect etc).
Similar situation. I was called to come to the hospital when he was dying and I had to question them to make sure that they were sure he wanted ME to be there. I couldn’t drive at the time and arrived just after he passed. All I could say to him was “Who did you have to be so stubborn?”
My father’s funeral was one of the most traumatic events of my life. Over 300 people showed up to sing his praises and tell me how lucky I was to have such a good man as my father. There was no way for them to know the monster he was at home, the lies we rehearsed, the abuse and manipulation that we endured. So glad you knew how to set healthy boundaries and skip the funeral. ❤️
How awful, I'm so sorry to hear that
I am now the primary caregiver for my 92-year-old father, the man who verbally abused my mother until she died in 2006. He was a narcissistic asshole who drank until he passed out every night, after screaming and arguing with either my mother or me and my siblings. We would go to bed believing we were not important, stupid, crybabies..., or worse, anything to make sure we knew who was in charge and always right. The next morning, we would come to breakfast with a father who acted like the night before didn't happen, and we were supposed to pretend the same lie.
Through a lifetime of therapy and working through all of the issues from such a household, I have changed, but the only thing that has changed about him is the alcohol - he quit drinking after a bad fall that landed him in the hospital for three days. Now, when he starts his shit, pounding on the kitchen table like a 2-yr-old, I just walk away, never engaging in an argument he loves to have. I am blessed that my siblings also help with this care, all of us as compassionate as we would be to anyone, but we all bear the scars of those tornadic nights growing up - hate the sin but forgive the sinner, I suppose.
Any yes, our whole town believes he is just the greatest thing since sliced bread. Only my few classmates who witnessed his rage during sleepovers have a clue what his true nature is. I'm so sorry you also had a monster for a father and were subjected to his funeral of disillusioned attendees. I'm sure I will soon have to endure the same.
This is super tough, thank you for sharing. I hope you're looking after you!!
Oh, Lynne! This is so. very. difficult. to. bear. I wish I could hug you. I am so thankful that you have supportive siblings. I do too, and it is such a blessing. Thanks for sharing your story with me. I feel honored. May God bless you and keep you in the difficulty of your journey. May you find the support and encouragement you need to do this painful thing well, and if you find that you cannot do it, that's okay too.
I absolutely agree with you. This was a beautiful and honest piece and it unwrapped the layers of narcissistic abuse with a quiet, yet dignified anger. It is always the right thing to walk away and cut those ties.
Thanks Trudi!
"People told me I’d regret it. “You only have one father,” I've walked a similar road- It was a painstakingly long process to release the emotional hold my narcissistic father had on me. You are strong and brave and only the ones who've walked the road of bankrupting their heart for an abusive person could understand. Thank you for your beautiful vulnerability.
I never regret not going back for my father’s funeral. I had a last conversation with him in hospital, while he was still in a condition of semi-ambulatory, attached to an IV line on a portable Pole on wheels.
He was in the long process of dying from throat & lung cancer. An addicted, heavy cigarette smoker + alcoholic, for only he knew how long. He’s favorite words for too long, “ No the smoke can’t bother you, I’m blowing it the other way.” This said in reaction, to my as polite as possible”, desperate requests, to “please, Dad put out your cigarette, you know I’m allergic to the smoke. I can’t breathe,”. Only. Very Rarely, begrudgingly, did he put it out. Usually if a sympathetic, vocally supportive person, knew how often I’d had strep throat, or upper respiratory infections, rheumatic fever as a kid, said to him, or glared narrowed eyes. Did he Put it out. Or go outside, or another room. Once it was my young son, in the car, who watched the taunting, disrespect. And spoke up: “Grampa, Mom asked you nicely, you know it makes her sick. She told you it blows back into the back window, it really does. Why are you so mean to her? She said We’ll take a cab home. I don’t want her to get sick, again. My mother who was driving, glared at him! He looked sheepish. Finally he put it out!
It was few year’s later, after a traumatic 4th of July, this time it was the alcohol; he was already woozy by 11 am when they arrived, early as we were getting the food ready to BBQ.
My mother been asking for help, dad had been falling asleep burning cigarette in his mouth, she’d wake to a smoldering blanket. Her fear he’d set the house on fire and they’d be engulfed in flames.
Instead it was soon my husband, as he added starter fluid to charcoal’s in our Weber Grill. My dad had mixed himself a martini, wandered over to watch, slithered closer & too close as he reached into his pocket… oddly leaned in to right into his pocket, WTF!
pulled out matches + Lit flames flared as he tossed them quickly under right arm, into stream of lighter fluid KABLOOOEEE !!!!!!!!!
Just as hubby Jerked Arm UP STEPPING GIANT STEP BACK & ARM/ CAN HIGH UP IN AIR!!!!!!!! Right Arm Leg as he…..
PULLED HANDLE with LEFT , WHEELS ROLLING GRILL AWAY, from House so NO HIGH FLAMES SHOOTING UP 4’ caught Fire! A Miracle mere Millimeters!
SMELL OF BURNING SINGED HAIR, was from Eye Brows, Arms Legs…. only, a narrow, close escape because Terry saw match coming, reacted instantly, blessedly he was Sooo tall, 6’5” Long Legs & Arms, a Golfer, Fast Swing, reactions Saved his Life!
Saw That Danger in Knick of Time! Saved himself, and our house, from Low roof, just far away enough, Mercifully!
Knocked father back, Was he Furious with my Father,” What did You Try to Kill Me? Set our House on Fire, Crazy man, What’s Wrong with you? How much you Drink, lunatic?!”
Mother’d been Shreiking ROSS, What’s wrong with you?
His, Smirking, reply, was Gleaming eyes “ I had it under control @ All times, as if it was fun, “giggling. sly look, then arms crossed over chest, as if proud. Mother just embarrassed, sulked. She wanted to go home. Husband enraged, huffed off, inside, slammed door. “When grilling ready, I’ll do meat, eat, watch golf ‘till then.”
Dead silence ‘till meal, in shock, ate, they left, We talked about, out of control, dangerous Alcoholic, after they went home. I consulted Clergy for Help, referrals. Went to AlAnon + ACOA support, to deal with wall of Denials
Parents went home to tell relative an entire Fictitious story, didn’t have any semblance of what happened. Father convinced mom, non of what occurred even happened. It was only me not wanting him to smoke. A total denial. She went along with Lie. Turned rest of family against me.
Some Friend’s & neighbors of my parents did believe me. One helped me see dad in hospital, alone. He never admitted why. But did say he had a Secret he had to keep, “ to Protect my Poor, Innocent, little mama.” Admitted it was too Much of a burden, for him, that’s why he smoked & drank. it was my Duty too! To Protect her, being born to her. They believed in reincarnation. said that was my choice. I’d choose it. Kept secret.
Thanks for your kind words, Katie
For me it was my mother. At first I blamed my step-father, he was also a raging narcissist and abuser. It took me a very long time to realise that my mother was an equal participant in the abuse that went on in the house. She enjoyed the attention and was an equal participant in the domestic violence which resulted in her terrified children having to run to public phone boxes in order to call the police. She chose to return to this relationship rather than protecting her children from witnessing and being subjected to this abuse. She added her own physical abuse of her children as well as emotional abuse which for years had me considering myself a failure to such an extent that I abandoned all my dreams in advance rather than subjecting myself to inevitable failure to achieve them.
I cut off contact 6 years ago. In the time since I last spoke to her I have restarted my degree, devoted time and effort to baking (a hobby I have always enjoyed but was constantly told I was not very good at), started writing a monthly baking blog for an actual publication, and have worked up the courage to start regularly applying for The Great British Bake-Off (one day I will get onto that show). Around 18 months after I cut contact she attempted to buy her way back into my life. She offered me £2000. As much as the money would have been useful at that point, I refused to sell my soul.
My daughter will never have to deal with the emotional manipulation and abuse I went through at the hands of this woman. And now, with the help of a community of friends I have build myself, I am financially stable, though nowhere near wealthy. But most importantly, I am happy, and able to work on repairing the damage done to me by maintaining a toxic relationship for 33 years of my life.
Well done, you! May you continue on the new path that brings you joy and comfort.
Denise your story resonated strongly with me. I chose to be estranged from my father for over 30 years. In a nutshell he chose alcohol and it was the love of his life. I saw him briefly when he was very ill and unable to speak. I think I saw regret in his eyes but it was probably just wishful thinking on my part. My family and I attended his funeral, and at least that allowed us to reconnect with long lost extended family. Some people think I’m a bit stuck up because I prefer to sip wine and won’t drink beer. I have my reasons and I don’t regret my decision at all.
Robyn. You saw regret. Make no mistake about it. When it is “last call”, you get to see what is what. It was probably the most real he had ever been around you.
Too late, yes, but the truth will always have a chance to show itself. Even for the unconscious life.
Death will bring consciousness, even if just for a second, because there is none forthcoming for that being. It must show itself.
It tells me our conscious self is always yearning to break out, break free. But we must allow it.
If we do not, it comes out in sputters at the end, when it is too late.
My mother couldn’t speak in our last moments together. She spoke with her eyes and expressions. That was all I needed.
Rest easy.
Hello Eric. The words in your first two lines were like a sharp slap and made me question why I could not believe the regret I clearly saw. Your words made me stop, think and reflect. Because there was no trust between us, I could not trust my own feelings… putting it down to wishful thinking.
Thank you for sharing your insights into those last moments. I have no doubt they were indeed the most real and honest he had ever been around me. There is some comfort in knowing that.
If you get some respite from the realization, I’m happy to have played a part in finding it.
I had a similar upbringing, and as a child, wished every day, God would take me.
I want to move on and not hold anger or unforgiveness.
I hear you, and I’ll be praying for you and your siblings x
No one who hasn’t walked in your shoes (or similar ones) can judge you. I have two or three narcissists (one malignant) in my immediate family. Talking to folks about family with people who don’t know what that’s like is infuriating: sorry folks, the normal rules just don’t apply. Sometimes you need to cut off from toxic people; sometimes those people are your friend, your parent or God forbid, your child.
It’s been nearly 20 years since I’ve spoken to my father. I’m still waiting for the call that he’s gone. I’m sorry you endured this.
I wonder if I'll finally be free and happy once my parents are gone? Or maybe I'll be burdened with 'if only's' and 'what if's' about them?
I think you can trust your own instincts. When I was in my early 20s, I went through a stage where I was very angry with my mother for putting Dad above us kids, so I kept away for a while. I’m very glad I moved past that, because she was a good person who I know made some poor choices, but she did love us. I was 25 when she passed and I would have regretted not spending more time with her. But with my father I have never had a moment’s regret, it would be insane to keep trying to have a relationship with that man.
I am 💕 life is much calmer without him
Thank you for writing this. I too had difficult parents I mostly chose not to engage with as an adult. My mother died alone and proud and fiercely independent in her world she had curated. I had nothing good to say so also chose not to have a funeral. There would have been a handful of people there at best and none who really knew her. I don’t regret a thing. She made me who I am but I too accepted years before that we were better with minimal contact. Blood is not thicker than water.
So true, thank you Fran
This post brings up so many poignant memories. Thank you, Denise. A challenging experience with so many points so meaningfully expressed. I can DITTO many of the others' comments. In my case, it was mostly the mom, though neither were ideal. Went no contact for years. At his funeral, I sat dumbfounded by the glowing eulogy for a man I'd never met. To everyone else, he was a pillar of the community. To me, he was domineering, distant, constantly critical though I think he realized his mistake later in life. I didn't bother with the mom's funeral. I got the "you'll regret it" speech and did call her once a couple weeks before she passed. Got nothing but the same old BS. Felt no loss, only relief.
That sounds really tough, I'm glad you did what was best for you.
I'm glad you did too!
This was a raw and poignant piece of writing. So sorry for what you, your mum and siblings endured. How very sad that there are people like your dad in this world who choose to mistreat everyone around them. I guess a person really has made a miserable life if nobody wants to give them a funeral. I once attended the funeral of a similar man - we went for his children and grandchildren who I guess felt obligated to hold a service. It was the first funeral I've been to that was devoid of emotion. Where not one nice thing could be said about the deceased. These men could have had the best of lives but they chose their paths...
Argh, that funeral would have been awful. Yes, it's a real shame people live that way. For themselves and for everyone around them.
Thank you for sharing this story. I am impressed by your courage and perseverance.
People who do not have abusive family members, do not understand how cruel and wrong their words are, when they chastise people for escaping. I too come from an abusive family. I did not go to my father's deathbed, and did not cry a single tear when he died. I just felt relieved, that one more asshole was off the planet.
This was the affirmation I needed that I’m not alone in this experience. Thank you.
Eerie. Hadn't spoken to mine in 17 years, didn't shed a tear. I was more emotional when my uncle died a few months later. Alcoholism was his excuse for verbal, psychological, and physical abuse - to say I was relieved when my sister called to say "dad didn't want a service" is an understatement, but my relief was because I wouldn't have to explain myself to friends & family why I hadn't shown up. Not how I imagined life would take me, but we play the hand we're dealt & do the best we can & grow from the experiences.
I also ceased contact with my parents. Something that I have difficulty with is the general societal assumption that mothers are amazing, nothing beats a mother’s love and we owe them so much.
I’m happy that most people had the kind of childhood that would cause them to have such positive feelings, but it’s not nice when they assume it was like that for everyone.