U
/u/toasted_braincell
Guest
Vent incoming!
PSA: I (23) grew up in a family environment of emotional neglect and abuse.
My father (63) was never there emotionally or mentally for any of us (my mother and my sibling) and abused my mother (51) verbally, financially and emotionally. I grew up seeing and hearing my father yelling at my mom for nonsensical themes, blackmailing her financially (even though he is well paid from his job) and being constantly angry about everything. I remember myself retiring to my room and / or not talking much when he was arriving home because he was constantly angry. No one knew why he was angry, and if we tried to ask him, he would burst out and yell and call names. He would never show up in school events and he would expect my mother to video record them for him to see them in the evening--actually, he never really cared about them. When we would take our grades, we were scared if they weren't A's, and if they were inferior than A's, he would compare us to other classmates of ours. There were also times that I have been slapped by my father when raising my voice against him.
My mother was the one who actually raised us, but she was also most times either emotionally unavailabe or her emotions towards me and my sibling were contradictory. She would at times show us signs of affection, but if we did something she didn't like (from not washing the dishes or forgetting something unimportant to even lying), she would straight up call us names, degrade us, make us feel like trash. She never let us cry, for her it was a sign of weakness. She would invalidate our emotions by telling us she's tired and doesn't want to hear us. We were raised trying to get our mother's validation, and we were raised trying to do stuff right in order to gain her love and approval. Keep this last one for later, because it's important for the university lore.
Well I went to the University, in the prospects of being a historian.
I got to understand something's wrong regarding my daddy issues in the second year of uni when I met a professor who's now a father figure/found father to me, who helped me see the right ideal of paternity, but the shit unfolded in the third year, when I met a certain professor who was teaching one of my favorite subjects. We will call him mr. S (50).
Mr S is a shy person, who doesn't take up space, doesn't bother learning anyone's names in his classes. He's known in his academic field. I had known him before attending uni, due to some documentaries he appeared in. He def has social anxiety, and always has some awkward aura. Never talks about himself, an absolute yapper about anything related to his academic field. Conservative and religious (just like my mother). He's got the reputation that he's strict. I hated the way he did his lectures, but this never stopped me from asking stuff in class, sending e-mails, asking him random stuff in person after class. In the midst of the semester, he got to know my name. I was the only person he called by my first name, out of the entire amphitheatre.
I was in shock. And this would happen in every class of his I got to attend. But anyways he set a high standard for me and I got a 6/10, because I didn't meet his expectations in his basic course (even though I studied hard for his exam). I felt fucking worthless in my own favorite academic field. I started attending therapy later in that year. He would still wait for me to join his seminar course of the next academic year. But at that time, I was in shambles. It took me 2 months to recover from this, yet I felt really sick even by seeing his name in any book. Yet, whenever he would see me at university, he would always tell me that he's waiting for me to join his seminar course. He even mistook a friend of mine for me and told her the same thing.
Bro even made an exception for me, because his seminar course had criteria of attendance (I had to had scored 7 and above in his basic course, and I had a 6/10), under the only condition I would score a 10 in his class. We had an amazing time together. I taught him how to figure out how to work in his old ass laptop. We had academic debates. He liked our talks at the office at times. He continued to give me the princess treatment as well, for example he sent only me to see archival work for my seminar paper he supervised. I was still the only person he remembered by name.
I started feeling....different towards him. Before that semester I used to look at him and feel extreme anxiety, fear, I was trying to avoid him, and his name made me feel sick. Now, I couldn't wait for the time I would see him again. Whenever I would see him smile, I would feel happy deep in my soul for seeing him being happy. I felt this was progressing into some next level Wattpad shit. Yet I was still so scared I would again not meet his expectations on me. I asked myself why this was happening to me, and my therapist told me because I correlated him with my parents. Everything that happened with S after that, was analyzed under the prism of how I projected my parental issues on him. And it fucking worked.
So when he accused the entire class of fraud, including me, I was in shambles still, but this time I knew very well why I felt like that. But I took it personal, and I chose not to follow him in my Master's the next year.
This was a boundary to protect myself. But I wanted to keep in touch with him, because I knew that to me, he was still just a reflection of my parental trauma. Besides, the accusation was never personal from the start, because he did that to everyone. I talked to him, I set my boundaries, I told him how his presence, in his ways, was critical in addressing my mental health. I felt it was unfair to lash my parents' failure on him. And after all that, I really wanted to remember how beautiful this semester was. I knew, though, that I should take my measurements and stand on my own feet, without having authority figures on my head.
We still keep in touch. He wants me to review his new book. He also wants to send me abroad, to do my PhD in the USA, in order to help me become an academic myself, with a topic proposition he knew I always liked. My therapist addressed me that even after all these, he still believed in me, after all. And now he gives me the opportunity to indeed leave out of the parental cycle lmao.
submitted by /u/toasted_braincell
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Continue reading...
PSA: I (23) grew up in a family environment of emotional neglect and abuse.
My father (63) was never there emotionally or mentally for any of us (my mother and my sibling) and abused my mother (51) verbally, financially and emotionally. I grew up seeing and hearing my father yelling at my mom for nonsensical themes, blackmailing her financially (even though he is well paid from his job) and being constantly angry about everything. I remember myself retiring to my room and / or not talking much when he was arriving home because he was constantly angry. No one knew why he was angry, and if we tried to ask him, he would burst out and yell and call names. He would never show up in school events and he would expect my mother to video record them for him to see them in the evening--actually, he never really cared about them. When we would take our grades, we were scared if they weren't A's, and if they were inferior than A's, he would compare us to other classmates of ours. There were also times that I have been slapped by my father when raising my voice against him.
My mother was the one who actually raised us, but she was also most times either emotionally unavailabe or her emotions towards me and my sibling were contradictory. She would at times show us signs of affection, but if we did something she didn't like (from not washing the dishes or forgetting something unimportant to even lying), she would straight up call us names, degrade us, make us feel like trash. She never let us cry, for her it was a sign of weakness. She would invalidate our emotions by telling us she's tired and doesn't want to hear us. We were raised trying to get our mother's validation, and we were raised trying to do stuff right in order to gain her love and approval. Keep this last one for later, because it's important for the university lore.
Well I went to the University, in the prospects of being a historian.
I got to understand something's wrong regarding my daddy issues in the second year of uni when I met a professor who's now a father figure/found father to me, who helped me see the right ideal of paternity, but the shit unfolded in the third year, when I met a certain professor who was teaching one of my favorite subjects. We will call him mr. S (50).
Mr S is a shy person, who doesn't take up space, doesn't bother learning anyone's names in his classes. He's known in his academic field. I had known him before attending uni, due to some documentaries he appeared in. He def has social anxiety, and always has some awkward aura. Never talks about himself, an absolute yapper about anything related to his academic field. Conservative and religious (just like my mother). He's got the reputation that he's strict. I hated the way he did his lectures, but this never stopped me from asking stuff in class, sending e-mails, asking him random stuff in person after class. In the midst of the semester, he got to know my name. I was the only person he called by my first name, out of the entire amphitheatre.
I was in shock. And this would happen in every class of his I got to attend. But anyways he set a high standard for me and I got a 6/10, because I didn't meet his expectations in his basic course (even though I studied hard for his exam). I felt fucking worthless in my own favorite academic field. I started attending therapy later in that year. He would still wait for me to join his seminar course of the next academic year. But at that time, I was in shambles. It took me 2 months to recover from this, yet I felt really sick even by seeing his name in any book. Yet, whenever he would see me at university, he would always tell me that he's waiting for me to join his seminar course. He even mistook a friend of mine for me and told her the same thing.
Bro even made an exception for me, because his seminar course had criteria of attendance (I had to had scored 7 and above in his basic course, and I had a 6/10), under the only condition I would score a 10 in his class. We had an amazing time together. I taught him how to figure out how to work in his old ass laptop. We had academic debates. He liked our talks at the office at times. He continued to give me the princess treatment as well, for example he sent only me to see archival work for my seminar paper he supervised. I was still the only person he remembered by name.
I started feeling....different towards him. Before that semester I used to look at him and feel extreme anxiety, fear, I was trying to avoid him, and his name made me feel sick. Now, I couldn't wait for the time I would see him again. Whenever I would see him smile, I would feel happy deep in my soul for seeing him being happy. I felt this was progressing into some next level Wattpad shit. Yet I was still so scared I would again not meet his expectations on me. I asked myself why this was happening to me, and my therapist told me because I correlated him with my parents. Everything that happened with S after that, was analyzed under the prism of how I projected my parental issues on him. And it fucking worked.
So when he accused the entire class of fraud, including me, I was in shambles still, but this time I knew very well why I felt like that. But I took it personal, and I chose not to follow him in my Master's the next year.
This was a boundary to protect myself. But I wanted to keep in touch with him, because I knew that to me, he was still just a reflection of my parental trauma. Besides, the accusation was never personal from the start, because he did that to everyone. I talked to him, I set my boundaries, I told him how his presence, in his ways, was critical in addressing my mental health. I felt it was unfair to lash my parents' failure on him. And after all that, I really wanted to remember how beautiful this semester was. I knew, though, that I should take my measurements and stand on my own feet, without having authority figures on my head.
We still keep in touch. He wants me to review his new book. He also wants to send me abroad, to do my PhD in the USA, in order to help me become an academic myself, with a topic proposition he knew I always liked. My therapist addressed me that even after all these, he still believed in me, after all. And now he gives me the opportunity to indeed leave out of the parental cycle lmao.
submitted by /u/toasted_braincell
[link] [comments]
Continue reading...