Tumgik
Text
shout out to my mother for nicknaming me ‘Annie’ recently; bullying a child you think has an e*ting d*sorder will not cure them.
2 notes · View notes
Text
(eating disorder/disordered eating patterns and related content TW)
does anyone else with dysmorphia or DEPs feel uncomfortable using ‘fat’ as a descriptive word when trying to explain to someone else how you see yourself??
like it feels wrong- i am visibly underweight and it’s like if i say that i think i look fat, i’m playing into a stereotype or grabbing for attention or something like that. like someone who actually is overweight is going to judge me for using a word i clearly don’t fit.
i have a hard time talking about what i see in a mirror bc ‘fat’ and ‘gross’ aren’t synonymous but in my stupid, disordered head, the only way i can avoid saying ‘fat’ is by substituting it with ‘gross’, which just makes it sound worse.
i guess i’m more worried about offending someone by trying to get my meaning across properly than actually focusing on my illness lmfao. sounds about right
6 notes · View notes
Text
When your parents do so much of subtle, manipulative, secretly hateful and deniable abuse, you will actually feel it’s better when they do an act of obvious abuse, something physical or very hard to deny, because it will feel validating. You get a proof that you didn’t just imagine they’re cruel and hateful, you will hold it close as a clarifying act, as your way of keeping yourself sane. That’s how horrible gaslighting and subtle abuse is. It makes children grateful for clear and visible hatred.
3K notes · View notes
Text
To My Mother (4)
You are entitled to your opinion, but you’re not entitled to share it with me. If you know what your opinion is going to be- harmful, shaming me, mean, -I shouldn’t be forced to listen to it.
0 notes
Text
An Open Letter
I feel invalid calling my mother abusive. She never hit me, I was rarely spanked as a child- I avoided the abuse my dad used to give to my older brother.
It doesn’t sound like she’s abusive from the outside.
But I’ve been raising myself since I was six because her marriage fell apart. I raise my little brother more than she does.
She belittles me, doesn’t take me to the doctor, the dentist, the optometrist- I’ve needed my eyes checked since 7th grade. I’m almost out of high school now. I have terrible genetic dental health, teeth that need to be pulled because they’re unnecessary. I didn’t get to a dentist for years because of her. I didn’t get diagnosed with the slew of mental health issues I have because she didn’t want to pay for a therapist.
My little brother didn’t get to go to in-patient psych care when he was actively suicidal and self harming because she “didn’t have the time”.
Her first ex sexually abused me; she claims it didn’t happen
Her next ex broke into our house, pointed out the hair on my legs before I was out of the closet and the acne on my chest, made fun of me for things I couldn’t control.
She lets her boyfriend bully my little brother and I- makes transphobic comments, makes fun of us for being teens, for being gay, and whenever we’d tell her how we felt about it, she’d just say “fine! I’m sorry for being such a terrible mother, we’ll just never talk to you again!”
She abused my brother verbally for years when we were younger, and I was so afraid of being on the other side of it that I helped her.
It doesn’t feel fair to call her abusive, but I know that’s just a result of the years of abuse.
0 notes
Text
Tell a child that they’re just going to have to “get over” severe mental health issues, like trauma or eating disorders.
Make fun of hobbies/coping mechanisms; if your kid really likes a show, or a game, and they do thinks like write about it, draw stuff from/about it, or cosplay, let them enjoy their life. It’s not about what you like.
Things it is NOT OK for a parent to do
List them…
Reblogging this will work. Liking this will work. Messaging me will not work. Email me at [email protected]
9K notes · View notes
Text
I think my mother knows it deep down, but denies it to herself. The constant gaslighting, refusal to respect anyone in the house’s gender and sexual identities, and bullying with her boyfriend are too obvious for her not to know.
If you choose to have kids, you also choose to take them to the doctor, the dentist, the optometrist- all those things she never wants to take us to.
Does the person who abuses you know they are abusive?
Reblogging this will work. Liking this will work. Messaging me will not work. Email me at [email protected]
800 notes · View notes
Text
To My Mother (3)
You are behind all of my insecurities in some way.
I don’t mean that as a slight, or an exaggerated version of the truth- it’s just what it is.
I was never anything but ‘pretty’. My brothers were smart, and funny, and talented, and handsome- I was just pretty. And even then, that wasn’t worth much to you. You told my little brother that he was pretty, and when he said “well so is ____”, your response was “well, pretty’s pretty”. I have more to offer than just being pretty.
When I came out as trans- and when my little brother did as well- you only ever looked at the physical. Said we were too soft looking to be anything but girls.
When I was younger, you would make fun of my singing. My brothers could both sing without any training and I had to work, and work, and work. I still don’t believe I have a good voice. I don’t know that I’ll ever believe anything different.
When your body looked like mine, you’d talk about how fat you were. You’d talk about dieting and the way you looked right in front of me. You’d change our diets to fit with yours. When I told you I had a disordered eating patterns, you told me to “just focus on eating healthy”. When I told you I’d lost 15 lbs in two months, and weighed 100lbs, you just brushed it off.
I can’t let you claim all the credit; the kids at school and my oldest brother helped you with my body image.
I know if I told you any of this, you’d get irrational. You’d shut down, or say something ridiculously childish like “well I’m sorry I was such a horrible mother I’ll just never talk to you again”, because that’s what you always do. You never change.
0 notes
Text
to my father (#2)
You don’t have to make up for mistakes with my mom by paying me.
I love you. I know you don’t know how to make things better. I don’t need money to make it right. I’m not mad at you, even if she is.
Everything is okay.
1 note · View note
Text
to my mother (2)
I wish I could write to you without it all coming out at once. I wish I could write to you without pointing out your flaws and the ways you hurt me.
1 note · View note
Text
I hope one day I can talk to my mother about the emotional abuse she’s inflicted on me and my brothers without her gaslighting me or getting irrational, but I won’t hold my breath.
That lady who raised me is an expert at this shit.
Tumblr media
12K notes · View notes
Text
to my mother (#1)
I love you. I think somewhere deep down, I will always love you. Even when I really wish I didn’t.
But I want you to know this- you are/were abusive. Whether you realised it or not.
My entire teenagerdom and my brothers’ entire lives, you gaslighted us, neglected us, and made both Frank and I grow up faster than we should have.
Telling me intimate sexual details about any of your partners or friends was abuse. Denying me and my little brother an identity was abuse. Telling your mother that she never loved your dad, when you know full-well she did and what that meant to her, was abuse. Constantly telling me that my trauma, my mental disorders, and my identity, were made up or didn’t exist- especially because you never got me into the doctor, never took me to my psych, frequently said things like “I’m putting you in therapy, aren’t I?!” when dad paid for it and grandma took me- was abuse. Telling me that my feelings anytime you hurt me were invalid was gaslighting. You always overreacted to the littlest things or turned an apology into being about you.
You made me feel small. Like you didn’t care. You acted like we were all accidental pregnancies. All three of your kids feel this way. You can’t tell someone you abused that it wasn’t abuse. That’s not how that works.
You always called Julian and Frank smart, cute, funny- I was always “pretty”. Just “pretty”. And you turned around and told Frank “yeah, she’s pretty, but pretty’s pretty”. I’m not sure if you know how siblings work when they don’t hate each other, but we tell each other things the parent says. And that really, really hurt me.
When I told you that your boyfriend made me feel bad about myself because he just made fun of me, all you ever said was “fine, we’ll just never talk to you again.” Talking shit about my dad in front of me is psychologically damaging. You KNEW that, SAID IT IN FRONT OF ME, and still decided to talk shit.
All i ever wanted was for you to be a normal mom. I wouldn’t have cared if you were a helicopter mom. I wouldn’t have cared that you and dad divorced. I wouldn’t have cared if you had an obsession with collecting animals, I wouldn’t have cared if you treated your cat like your own child. I just wanted to feel loved. Frank and Julian just wanted to feel loved.
But we scrounged most nights. You drank most of the money away. Spent it on animals we didn’t need, vacations with your boyfriend on my birthday and thanksgiving. You told your children that they were terrible people, told them whenever they cried that they were overreacting or you blew up on them. Knew your asd/adhd son was more than 2 years behind in mental development and still tried punishing him as an adult.
“Parentificarion” is emotional abuse.
Leaving us alone as much as you did- both physically and emotionally- was abuse. You were never there. I told you I was suicidal the first and second time and you told me ”aw, I’m sorry you’re sad”. You could’ve been in the other room, and we all felt like you were miles away.
You always played the victim. Always used the excuse that being a single mom of three was so hard, and “I’m so sorry I’m a shitty mom!”. I felt like I was always the adult in an argument.
My grandmother frequently told me how she felt like it was her fault you neglected us.
I told you I wasn’t a girl when I was 12. Then again when I was 14, and 16. Each time you brushed it off, called top surgery stupid, etc. You always wondered why we never talked to you, sent me messages when I was with friends about how your kids hated you while you were drunk at a bar.
And every time I thought you were close to finally getting help, you always backed out. You never actually got any better with your alcoholism. Your boyfriends all encouraged it.
I want you to be happy. I never wanted this to turn into a bash on you.
But after years of bottling it up, telling everybody but you, I want you to know where you went wrong. Maybe in another life, you’ll remember and do better. I want to be happy despite how miserable you made me.
You once told me that I ruined your house for you because of my auditory disorder, how I gave you anxiety.
If I can do that for you, then I can definitely say you caused a majority of my depression.
And it’s not just you. Dads not without his faults, either. I’m not idolising him. But he always supported me. I always felt loved more by the absent parent than by the one who was in the same house, and it hurted. It still hurts.
1 note · View note
Text
I just want people to love me for who I am.
126 notes · View notes
Text
to my father.
I honestly can’t wait to change my name- and I don’t mean that as any offence to you or mom. I appreciate the name you guys gave me, and it served its purpose and was beautiful, but I’ve outgrown it, if that’s a way to look at it.
It’s not mine anymore. I was Chloe when I was 8, when I was 12. I was Finch when I was 15, and Achilles when I was 16.
And I think I will always be Achilles.
It will always be this, for as long as I live.
Names are gifts- and I appreciate the gift you two gave me. I loved it until I couldn’t, and even then I loved the idea of it.
But I am not that girl anymore.
No longer a child, no longer a girl.
And I wish I could be- I wish, I wish, I wish. But I was born to eventually be Achilles. It’s in my blood and bones.
You have always supported me, even if you didn’t approve, but I fear coming out every time I do it. I am no longer your little girl, but I hope you can still love me all the same. I will always worry what you think of me. I will always love you.
You are the parent I wished I’d had for most of my life.
0 notes