i know comparing ourselves to others is not healthy or fair for anyone....I don’t usually use this word....BUT

I am having trouble understanding or accepting my diagnosis. Nevermind that I got it over a dozen years ago. At that point I was dealing with so much, just white knuckling my way through life and thankful to be surviving each day. Change is hard and as a college student setting boundaries with family, having physical health issues, working full time....every semester and every year included so much change. And then people in my life started dying, I married and abusive spouse and we had children. I didn’t have time to digest the diagnosis until I didn’t have a choice. That time is now. And I don’t understand.

To me that says I’m still normalizing a lot but here’s my problem....

What my parents failed to prevent and address did more to me than anyone else. They were all fine and aside from those gigantic oversights - which I see as normal human shortcomings - they’re good people. They’re really kind people. It’s hard to say they’ve hurt me when they’re also so good. But let me be clear about this. My father was absent when a lot of things happened but he heard about it and much of the time both of us were punished when he got home because it takes two to cause a problem. Wharver provoked my brother didn’t matter. I got punished just for being me, needing to clean my mess or take back what he’d taken from me that I needed for school. And mom was there for a lot of it and failed to step in when terrible things were happen- when brother was trying to drown me - or the cat. Pushing me down the stairs resulted in scolding him by using his name only. Her response was minimal if it was a response at all. When my brother and dad fought she walked out and drove off and just left me home to fend for myself. But they did a lot of good and do a lot of good.  It’s hard to say that when they’ve also failed to help me when I reached out saying I have a problem I need help with, then again when I did IOP for wanting to kill myself and yet again when I did attempt suicide. I wasn’t living with them at the time and it was their normal to have a non-response. When I lived with them it was either silence or deal with it or cruelty. I should be thankful they weren’t cruel, and I am. Their non response doesn’t say anything about me. I know my worth - now. But I’m living with them and they want details that I know will come with judgment so I’m not giving it to them.

 I don’t think Mom realizes how she’s hurtful even when I say something. I don’t think she sees the pattern and I’m not in a place to “accuse” - all I do is set boundaries. And I’ll keep doing that. But am I seeing what I see because it’s real or because I expect it? Am I seeing what I see because it takes away from my responsibility? Do I have responsibility? I find that the things that most upset me about others are the things I can’t stand about myself and I see that I really do the same thing in different ways. I sabotage myself and I’m wondering now if I sabotaged my marriage. 

This is a big rabbit trail from the thought that I don’t understand PTSD. I can’t connect these parents to those parents and even though I see the hurt they caused I also see a lot of good. My Dad for instance is the reason I am kind. He’s the reason I stand up for people when they need me to. I love those qualities about me. I sobbed this week because I’ve lost one of them,  in some ways both. I’m now quiet. I’m not able to stand up for anything. The last time I tried, I did so through tears and it was not a time or place to be crying. Now I am someone who barely has a voice. A lot of that is from husband. A lot of it is from workplace environments and racism on campus that should have been taken more seriously. The world has disappointed me and I’ve let that take the few things I have always been proud to own - a passion for kindness and making things right. In a way I have stirred up trouble in several work environments but every place I’ve been, when I left, they told me it was an incredible loss and that I would always have a place with them if I needed to return. It’s rare that someone is kind and wants to address issues no one wants to address. But that’s me. Kindness is what’s helped me be successful. And those two qualities are the core of who I am but where are they today? I’m still kind but what good is kindness if I don’t use my voice? So now I’m disappointed in myself....and still stuck not knowing if anything I feel is right or normal and every decision paralyzes me. If I can’t trust my parents with my feelings or my children, can I trust them to help me financially? They’ve offered and I’m so so behind. It’s tempting but it also feels dangerous. 

Or maybe I am just crazy