Finally.
It’s funny I always felt so guilty about asking for help.
And how I was praised when I sold my prized possessions in university just to pay my rent, all while working to support myself and attend classes. It seems my sibling, who I really hold no grudge against, was able to go to a massively-expensive private school and not see this sort of struggle, and was well-provided for. But alas. Alas. What really has struck me is the hypocrisy of your attitudes.
Dad was in jail how many times??? Three? Five? More? For repeated drunk driving arrests. Smashed up the car trying to work on it drunk. Stranded on the road multiple times. Cover up after cover up. Never let the thought of his family stop him from boozing and driving around. You guys lived with your parents two long-extended times in your 20s and 30s (something I didn’t do), actually went fucking bankrupt, took Carnival cruises without your small children, and fucked up nearly everything you put your hands to. Shit. I could forgive all that. But after such massive mistakes, and receiving virtually endless help from your generous, Silent Generation parents (/parents-in-law), you push on me the attitude that I need to fend for myself and pull myself up by my bootstraps. Do you realize how much I suffered? How much I went without, and still continue to go without to this day?? And I’ve voiced it, and made it known.
The assistance you’ve given has not gone unnoticed. But the assistance you’ve perpetually withheld hasn’t either. I’ll likely never own a house due to “giving everything to the Lord” as you beat it into me to do with a belt as a child. I was robbed by Jewsus and those Zionist teachings and the churches I attended that upheld them with threats of hell. When I came the closest I’ve ever been to suicide at 18, the first question you asked when I called shaking from the emergency room was “how much is it gong to cost!?” in an annoyed voice, while urging me to go somewhere else to save money. Nothing about how I was. Nothing about oh my god I am so glad you are still alive. You know who said that to me, and offered to help? My high school drama teacher. I tried to go to therapy with you. You refused to speak to the counselor like a petulant child. I’VE BEEN RAISING *YOU* MOST OF MY LIFE. And so I sit here tonight, late at night, unable to sleep as usual, marveling at what a con-job you’ve pulled on me, and that I ever felt guilty or let your gaslighting horseshit shame tactics get under my skin.
I drove shitty cars, never had enough money, gave all I had away to you and others, and even felt guilty about going to a mental hospital when I literally could not get through a day without almost dropping to the ground and curling into the fetal position. I felt so…. stupid. But now, at 42, looking back, as you both tell me how I’m wrong about this or that or how I am bitter and hateful… I see how you both just simply refused to face yourselves. Refused to face how you were abused. Refused to confront your parents. Were coddled in a much more forgiving economy and given money in spite of all of your foolish recklessness over and over and over and over — and now you, from your nice little retirement nest, have the nerve to tell your literally impoverished son who you failed to raise, that he’s bitter, hates god, and needs to grow up.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. This hurts so bad but you’re too selfish to care. Invest in a mirror.
