floofysafebun - Tumblr blog

[floofysafebun]

im not doing well. I feel like I'm so bad at everything and I keep failing. I know that I can make mistakes but it feels so out of character and I feel like such an inconvenience to everyone and I can't help but apologize too many times and then I feel bad that I made ppl uncomfy because I apologized too much.

im not having fun 😞 I don't wanna do all this. im tired

[floofysafebun]

Mom is really incapable of being a mom.

"don't talk too much" shut up. You can't say that to the daughter I helped you raise. She is a child. I understand making a good impression on her boyfriend's family is important, but it seems as though your inferiority complex just leads you to bully your daughter and make her feel less of a person compared to their family.

Stop projecting. You hate what your own mother did to you, didn't you learn your lesson? Why are you causing my sister the pain you felt? Stop it.

[floofysafebun]

I hate my mother. She means nothing to me. All she's done is cause me pain. I don't understand the people who say that they turn to their mom for comfort. How?

[floofysafebun]

I don't understand why I have to be the one sacrificing for people all the time. I don't understand why my mom expects this of me. Im her child too.

[floofysafebun]

Sometimes it boggles my mind how tone deaf a mother can be to her own song.

She talks about how her mother always favored the eldest son. How she was always belittled, judged, humiliated by her own mother. How she was always there for her mother but never once did her mother thank her or let her feel appreciated or loved for being there bc her mother always had her eyes fixed on her eldest. How much she was forced to sacrifice just because her mother's eldest kept getting into trouble and begged her to save her sibling.

Mother doesn't realize that she's repeating the same thing to her own daughter.

The eldest son never behaved like the eldest. He threw tantrums. He had an inferiority complex whenever he saw me pushing myself to achieve great things. What he didn't know was that those were how I survived. If I didn't achieve those things and work myself to the bone, I wouldn't be seen by anyone. All he had to do was cry and throw a tantrum and everyone would come running. If I did the same, I would be ridiculed and told that I should behave like a lady. I was 3. I was the one pacifying my siblings. I was the one sacrificing every part of myself just so you could have time to shower the eldest baby with the love and affection I know you could never give to your daughters. I was the one sitting through car rides listening to how bad my mother's marriage was getting. I was the one being beaten when I slipped up one time and told my mother that I felt safer beside my deadbeat father because he didn't yell at me and force me to do things I didn't want to.

She gets mad when I tell her how she's made me into a horrible dress-up doll. A doll that makes me want to claw my eyes out and rip all my skin off whenever I see her in the mirror. Some days I can't recognize myself. I can't look at all the progress I've made because I'm haunted by the image of a puppet that was there for so long.

She argues that she never did such a thing. That's when I realize that the days she starved me for getting homework questions wrong, the days she beat me til bruises formed, the day she yanked chunks of hair out, the days she kept mocking my appearance, the day she asked me to sacrifice all my hard work for the sake of accommodating her good for nothing eldest, the day she took all my blankets and forced me to sleep at the foot of the bed and laughed at me as I shivered all night... All of those and more meant nothing to her. She didn't even have the decency to remember how she abused a child. Her child.

The eldest will never know my pain. He cries about being inferior even as a man child. He doesn't know that he broke the heart of his little sister when he decided she was his competition. He doesn't know that I worked all those years just so I would be worthy of being fed and told I was loved. He doesn't know that his little sister's hope that he'd help her slowly dwindled away as he joined everyone else in telling her that she'll never be good enough. No matter what she did, everyone was against her. She learned so early on in kindergarten not to rely on anyone because she didn't want anyone else to hate her.

Mothers are tone deaf to the pain of their daughters. I don't want kids. I've had enough raising my mother's own children and my own mother, and her own mother. I know that I would be a great mother and that I would give all I am to make sure that they grow up with so much love. But I can't do it. It hurts to think about a happy family.