I have never been able to talk to you about all the times you hurt me because you act like you’ve never touched me. I remember one day you were talking about a coworker and how she’s a terrible mother because she abuses her kids and everyone knows this. You said it with a sick sort of pride because you believe you would never abuse your children. I owe you thanks for my first concussion at twelve years old in a womens bathroom, for when you threw me against a wall, and then left me there because you were so upset. Also to mention the many times you held me by my neck and up against a wall in the house I grew up in. That continued for five years until my brother walked in and witnessed the last time. It was only the last time because he yelled at you. Any time any abuse comes up, you only remember the time you hit me when I said I needed to move out around 15 years old. You were forced to deal with it because when dad found out he told you to never hit me again. You stormed out of the room angry and I don’t remember you talking to me much less apologizing.
I’ve always wondered why you pretend like those horrible things never happened and then it was explained by a simple pinterest post.
What’s even more horrible is that I always have to pretend that we’re okay, because if I don’t you lash out. You become frustrated and angry when you can’t control your case of being victimized. One day you’ll be faced with the truth. It is a relief to know that there is a diagnosable condition that you can absolutely control.