The Conversation

    Most adult children of abusive parents have "the situation" which divided their life into a "before" and "after" section. It's what made them realized that they cannot have a normal relationship with their parents. Perhaps it was the moment when they first learned about personality disorders, or their parents crossed a line so severely that it was unforgivable. Maybe they got out into the real world, which their parents always tried to isolate them from, and learned that all of the "quirks" that bothered them were actually forms of abuse. Or they got "corrupted" by a friend or partner from a "normal family", and realized that emotionally healthy people don't treat them poorly like their own family does. Whatever it is, most of us had a moment when the illusion of a happy, healthy family where our discomfort was the only "problem", was shattered. And there was no looking back - nothing could ever go back to how it was.

    My "situation" was a conversation that occurred in my late teens. I formed an online friendship with a woman who turned out to be a nutjob in her own right, but also came from an abusive family. Through talking to her, I realized that most of what I was uncomfortable with in my family wasn't just "quirky behavior" that I should forget about, like my parents always insisted. Her parents were extremely similar to mine, and we could relate to each other on the vast majority of the abusive experiences we both suffered at the hands of our parents. She showed me Issendai's series on estranged parents' forums, and I realized that my parents' behavior and beliefs were nearly 100% identical to the ones discussed on that blog. I finally knew the words to describe my feelings and experiences, and that I wasn't alone. I began reading various forums online for adult children of abusive parents, including r/raisedbynarcissists (which has gone downhill significantly since then - but this was all almost a decade ago).

    But I was hopeful - surely my mom, who loves me and cares about me very much, would be open to a discussion about all of this. At the time, I thought she was just a co-victim of my terrible, abusive dad. Perhaps an enabler at worst. So, I decided to confront her about it. I went into the kitchen as my dad watched TV in the living room, and I told her I wanted to talk to her about something. I told her everything, just about. All of the sexual abuse at the hands of her husband, my dad. All of the times where his alcoholism threatened my life or caused extreme dysfunction in the family. All of the times I felt unsafe. Every event written on this blog taking place before this conversation and many more - I got it all out.

    At first, she seemed so supportive. My mom apologized for not giving me a good childhood, and she cried with me. Yes! I've succeeded - I imagined that things would be so much better from now on. We'd really work on things, and we'd be happy. She promised me that everything would change and that she'd make it right.

    Unfortunately, my dad overheard the conversation and started stomping around angrily. His feelings were hurt. My mom asked him what was wrong, and he said "nothing" and stomped out of the back door to go smoke a cigarette. Looking back, this is when my mom realized she made a mistake - she was not supposed to take my side. From this moment, the conversation got uncomfortable and just weird.

    I tried to get my mom back on topic after he was out of the room - he always threw tempter tantrums about random things, so I didn't pay it any mind. I wanted to tell her more about the sexual abuse. Her response broke my heart - "okay, but did he rape you?", said in this terrible, snarky, dismissive tone. She repeated herself. There was no mistaking this for a benevolent attempt at making the details of the situation very clear - there was nothing but pure malice in her voice. I said "no" - she replied, "then it wasn't that bad". I insisted that it was sexual abuse either way - her response, "oh, so he's not good enough for you, but his money is?". "But I was an innocent little girl! I didn't choose to be born to a man like him!", I said. "Oh, you weren't that innocent", she smirked back at me.

    Well, that hurt. I went back up to my room and cried. I'm not sure I really knew what to make of this whole situation at this point. I was mostly confused, but I wanted to keep trying. Something really bothered me about it, though. I guess I couldn't yet accept what it meant - that my mom doesn't really care about me, never did, never will. Admittedly, it's a hard pill to swallow - plus, you have to remember that I was still in "my mom is an innocent victim in all of this, just like I am" mode. I tried again for a couple of days, through the discomfort with the hurtful things she said.

    This was during the time period where I drove her to and from work every day, sacrificing my ability to experience normal, age-appropriate things like relationships, friendships, jobs that I wanted, and educational opportunities. That same week, I drove her to work and I saw a billboard that said something that I consider triggering - I don't remember exactly what it was, but it was a word that can be related to one of my dad's many deranged sexual fetishes, which he openly exposed me to from infancy to early adulthood. I've always had a twitching problem which occurs when I have intrusive and disturbing thoughts, primarily those related to my childhood. I told her that my childhood was so painful that I can't even see that word without twitching due to the flashbacks it puts in my head. "I don't want to talk about this anymore", she said. She was done entertaining the things I was saying and I stopped bringing it up. I realized this was going nowhere.

    She very explicitly made a choice to prioritize her sad little marriage and her terrible husband over her own child. The worst thing is that she didn't realize what she did - I bet she doesn't remember this even happening. Not in the gaslighting "that never happened" way where they damn well know that it really happened, but denial of anything being wrong in our family comes so naturally to her that I doubt this event was special enough to be remembered in the long term. If she remembers it, she doesn't think it's a big deal. Nothing that anyone ever does to me is a big deal to her, no matter how bad it is.

    From that day, I became cold and distant. I started to looked down on her and I could never quite stop. I realized that she wasn't some precious little co-victim of my dad's abuse, but that she was every bit as rotten as he was. She allowed all of this to happen. She didn't care about any of it - not even the parts where I was sexually abused, something that would send any healthy mother into a homicidal rage against the person who did it. Even if he had penetrated me, she'd still find some way for it to "not really count". I remember thinking, "if he murdered me she'd probably find a way to make it my fault and absolve him!". And I was right, I really do think she'd find an excuse even for that.

    There were a few good times after that, but this is when I developed the "ick" feeling towards her. It made my skin crawl for her to even touch me. I could not hear "I love you" from her without wanting to vomit. She always wondered "what happened to our close relationship", which is why I doubt that she even remembers saying anything that she said to me then. There were many attempts at rekindling said "close relationship", and admittedly I tried to stomp down the "ick" feelings and go back to "normal" a few times, too. I couldn't. There was no way. This was the beginning of the end. Denial is not something that works for me, and I have no idea how it works for these people.

    The worst thing is, it was just a couple of months ago that I realized that this conversation was totally unnecessary because she already knew. I basically just told her a bunch of stuff that she was aware of because she was there and/or I told her about it right after it happened. My brain had blocked out the parts of many memories of being sexually abused where I ran to her for help, and she totally rejected me. At best, she'd make a half-hearted attempt at "getting him to stop", and promising me that "he won't do it again because she talked to him about it". One time, she even let him abuse me so she could go spend time with her boyfriend. As for the non-sexual abuse, she knew about all of it too, but didn't care about that either. But if I hadn't tried to confront her about all of this nearly a decade ago, maybe it would have taken me much longer to figure out that she is a co-abuser, not a co-victim.

Here is what I think she really told me "between the lines", during that conversation and the following days before she forbade the topic altogether:

"You are not getting in the way of my family - we're going to act like you never said any of this"

"Three year old girls have the ability to sexually tempt grown men - and it's the little girl's fault, not the grown man's fault"

"Sexual abuse is okay up until a certain point" (although, like I said, I doubt the existence of this point in her mind)

"If you provide the bare minimum as required by law for a child, it's okay to sexually abuse them"

"You don't get to complain about any degree of abuse if we occasionally pay for something of yours"

"It's uncomfortable for me to be confronted with the reality that things are not all well in our family - so shut up about it"

"Deep down inside, I have a conscience - but I choose to prioritize a sexually abusive, violent, good-for-nothing alcoholic over my own child anyway"