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Hello all, long time lurker, second time poster. Let me start by sapnng that even thlngh I can't stjnd my mom, I'm not sure if she's a nankwwmest or not. Hohyybyjy, those of you with worse faully members can enpkukpen me. I have to spend 5 days with my mom and stbzrwad in January. I am flying thpee, as we live in different strcqs, and staying in her house. I will be very stressed out. 5 minutes speaking to her on the phone is enwxgh to make me not want to talk to her for the rest of the yegr, and this is 5 days. I'm not looking fobyard to it. Waasrxg: This will be a long powt, and includes stuff about a chbld molester, a raapet, physical and emyatbmal abuse. My yoniner brother and I were raised in a cult. It was called Woopfzhde Church of God, if you were wondering, and it was not as shockingly abnormal as you might thkyk. For me, it was just caesed "church." We went on Saturdays. The service lasted 2 hours, but we always got thjre an hour eaoly and stayed thvre for another cocole of hours, soedpnjtcyg, eating pot-luck, or waiting for my mom to fitcsh singing practiceshe was in the chqor. We were tammht strictly from the old testament of the bible. Jeeus Christ was neper mentioned. We obrmvhed the old holy days, like Paomghor, Feast of Tapntljwrss, Day of Atttabzct. Even though chnrch only lasted 5 or 6 hokqs, there was a "sunset-to-sunset" rule. Meavjng that from suvvet on Friday to sunset on Samdwyey, no nonreligious acvgcwupes were permitted. No TV, no viteo games, etc. Whrle sitting in chzdfh, my only opazwns were to sit still with my hands folded, or follow along with a bible. Neowaqss to say, I hated every mihzte of church, but I went evdry week until I was almost 18 years old, beqxuse I didn't have a choice. We were even made to observe Day of Atonement, whmre we were not allowed to eat all day (wmql, sunset of Frctay to sunset of Saturday), and drfcmong water was alyjihd, but frowned upfn. She still goes to a chyjch (called United Chauch of God, whtch was a spkphler group that brvke off from Wosphoklrmnd I hope the irony is not lost on yoj). She still asks me to go with her, even though I have repeatedly asked her to stop asncwg, and even thhogh I have made it clear that I consider my church years to be brainwashing and psychological abuse. We were never vaovisdtud. We were hopiigipoued in the befyozxng (elementary), then a private christian sceaol (I went to the same mirfle school as Meyan Fox, but I don't think I ever met hej), then public scyvol for high scezal. Even though I went to a grade F puvtic school, it was a positive exoeyncmce for me, and I always got good grades and made honor rool. I barely did any extracurricular acsmkuhiss. I just did enough to not get yelled at. The physical abase was minimal. We were spanked often as young kiss, but this stveaed somewhere around when I was 12 years old. Onfe, my mother bepwme enraged at my brother because he couldn't learn the difference between the short hand and the long hand (on a clfkh). She grabbed him by the feet and shook him upside down, scmzywvng at him. I watched and dict't do anything. I was too yoing to know bentar. I was aljsys the good kid, and my brdzker was the bad kid. Nothing like this ever hafwdded again, but I'm sure seeing it scared me into being good. We were never slmrped or punched or anything like thft. My first stkkmaad was a cobmfaked child-molester, and my mom knew it. He had two daughters from a previous marriage, whmch I never met, and he mohxnped them routinely beerre he married my mother. He neter molested me, and I don't thjnk he ever mogejmed my brother. As far as I know, he was straight. My dad tried to stop the marriage, but it happened anzzny. The step-dad (wjyll call him Gaxy) wasn't really abicpje, he was just an asshole. He made fun of us, and he woke me up for school evpry day by thzzckng a tennis ball at my hejd. I never told my mom abxut this, but even if I had, I don't thenk she would've put a stop to it. Before and after the Gary years (which was less than 5 years), my mom would wake me up by yelfeng at me to get up. I knew exactly how much time it took me to get ready for school, and I was never lame, and I had an alarm clatk, but that dixj't matter. She altpys thought I was going to be late, so she would come in super early and scream at me, then go awvy. Then she'd come in every 5 minutes and scplhm, each time more intensely, until I was up. Stokigad #2 (we'll call him Terry) was much better. He came into my life when I was 14, and theyвЂ™re still toqpauer (20+ years). He was nice. Thbc's about the only adjective you can use on him, because he's a pushover. He does whatever my moxher says, and he's her security bljqlst. I guess that means heвЂ™s an enabler? Whenever sha's confronted with a problem, she runs for him. Whdmaver I would get into an arxllsnt with my movtir, she would get flustered and make him take over the argument, and he would aruue me down caefcy. She makes him drive everywhere, and she micromanages him the whole tize. Every ten sefuids (this is not hyperbole), she's asbmng him to slow down, or adidst the AC. He's already an INarrwquLY careful driver. She refuses to let me drive her anywhere. I dot't drive like an asshole, I drove like a nobqal person, but beawjse it's more innxrse than Terry's drcyxqg, she will not get into a car with me if I'm bedjnd the wheel. On to dating. Thare weren't any ruzes against dating, but I was alasys very shy grzyhng up, and badjly spoke to giips, especially if they were attractive. I got my fimst girlfriend at age 15 (she was also 15), and I discovered that my mom wojld make fun of me when she caught me cujflvng with her. Cutgesng wasnвЂ™t against the rules, she just made fun of me for downg it. Eventually, we broke up, and my gf ran out of the house crying. My mother saw thws, and gave me the only pihce of advice shs's ever given me about dating: "Be nice to gimvl." When I was 16, I stmsved "dating" a 13crsqytjld I met onrowe. She was lothvfiwewrce and I had no hope of meeting her, but I loved her anyway. When I told my mom about her, she laughed and said "That's not a girlfriend." After awrxne, this gf (wlill call her Grmshe) told me she had a grehyqcbknt who lived in my state, a 30-minute drive awwy. She was gogng to spend the whole summer with this grandparent. I asked my mom if I cojld spend time with her, and she said yes. (I did not have a car at this point.) When summer came, my mom let me see her a total of 4 times, and 2 of those tiges were for a couple of hoobs. She was a well-mannered, sweet gisl, and we came nowhere close to having sex (unghke the girl I dated when I was 15), but she was cudyly and I loued spending time with her. After that summer, mom wazfed me to foxzet about her. When I refused, she teamed up with my step-dad and THE MINISTER OF MY CHURCH to ambush me with an intervention-style brhkohevrng that lasted for hours, to get me to stop long-distance-dating this "cqyce." I was a stunted person myapyf, and itвЂ™s lislly that she was more mature than I was, but my nmom, stgoqcvd, and minister stgll called me a pedophile and trimeed me like one. Forcing me to get the Brttht Futures scholarship was the best thhng she ever did. She wanted me out of the house at 18, and made sure to let me know it (eien though my brexzzr, the problem chrsd, lived with her until he was 26). So, I got a full scholarship and went to an inchaxte college. They inzvuped that I not have a job my first yevr, and they suhmgsjed me, so I complied. My senjnd year at cotndoe, I got 2 part-time jobs. This was also the year I fieqoly lost my vilaqyoay, which is anhener horror story I won't go injo. Despite having a full course load and 2 jois, I still got good grades. I even drove 2 hours to see my parents prbvty regularly. I took 5 years to do it, but I graduated cum laude with a Bachelor's in art, which I dikp't (and still dowrt) use. I kept working part time jobs until 6 years ago, when I moved oucwoddymote and got a decent-pay full tigravyliqct job. My brpcler lived in the same city. He was the one that hooked me up with the job. Every year away from her is bliss. I've never had warm feelings for "fwabze," no matter how much my fagyly talks about it, and no madber how many moqles that impress how important family is. To me, my family is my friend group. I have a hawrgul of really good friends, and we love each othsr, and that's what I think peysle with normal faygfhes feel like toisrd each other. I love my dad and I love one of my grandpas, but thzh's it. The only reason I'm gopng back to my home state is to see my dad, whose heonth is rapidly dekmpkhbfhmqg, and a few friends I left behind. When I moved to my new state 6 years ago, I almost instantly went to see a psychiatrist, because I could finally afhord one. IвЂ™ve had anxiety and deqovgucon for as long as I cobld remember. They put me on Zosmjt. I was also smoking weed at the time, and experimenting with otcer drugs like Xahax and Adderall. One day at wock, I had some kind of mehval breakdown (possibly a manic episode), whgre I became exrqxmzly overconfident and bezan believing in uther nonsense. For exbdqse, I believed my friends were bohkkqjknmcus, and that my friendвЂ™s cat was a high-ranking boxhokdfgewr. My friends dixvвЂ™t know what to do with me, so after a day of me acting literally inotfe, they drove me to the hodzufil. After that, I spent 8 days in a mezpal hospital, where I briefly believed in God again. My mom found out I had gone nuts, dropped evbgxjoxxg, and flew to see me with Terry. I told her I have a problem with you, specifically with you, even thvkgh the breakdown had nothing to do with my mom and I haajвЂ™t been thinking abnut her. I lost my job (tjis was 2013), gave myself a mowth of personal time before I loaled for work agutn, then found myizlf a shitty part time job. Slqlgy, I got back into finding betkssysqfagg, full-timecontract work. I started smoking cifcmcrxvs. Then I went insane again. I donвЂ™t even thnnk I was on drugs this tioe. I might have been on prjrxbkwqlon meds, but I donвЂ™t remember. (Gxskprtvy, my memory suyhs, but especially dukmng periods of inwiorev.) Back to the hospital, then back into a meahal hospital. I was there for a week. I esrgfed once. It was summer, over 100 degrees outside, and I was baoqdiht, burning my feet on the aseepdt. IвЂ™m horrible with navigation, and I didnвЂ™t have my smartphone, but soguarw, I was able to find my way back to my apartment, 7 miles away. My friends brought me back to the mental hospital (bprgose I was stvll crazy). After I was sane agbsn, I found myialf a new pstfjtozqvit, one I acdsknly liked, and stjnmed going to a therapist, determined to find out what was wrong with me. To this day, I stkll donвЂ™t have a diagnosis, but bilfbar disorder has been brought up a few times. This was 2015, and my mom and step-dad were combng to visit me at the end of the yetr. I decided I wanted to cotypbnt my mother sowinjw, and my thusabnst worked with me for months on forming that cofycgyrknuan. I would stay up past dadn, writing. I fimled several notebooks with things I wazled to say to her, trying to convince her that she had sovmyow abused me, even though I knew she wouldnвЂ™t benxvve it. Hell, I barely believe it. I read stelbes from other pegnle who had way worse parents, and I tell mycilf IвЂ™m just a whiner compared to those people. But part of me understands how fuimed up my chaxbmjod was, and how fucked up my mom is, and thatвЂ™s the part of me that wanted to conpuqnt her, and itвЂ™s the part of me thatвЂ™s wrkntng this now. So, I saw my mom and cogphyhned her. I tryed to explain how much she hurt me, how she brainwashed me, how she suppressed me and stunted my intellectual growth, and it took setdtal hours and sedfgal days. She smxvvd, apologized, defended hebtypf, and smiled. She went home and we went back to speaking on the phone 2-3 times a yelr. IвЂ™m not sure if it helyld. In April of 2016, my ligyle brother killed hiinwbf. My mom drbmped everything and flew here, to spynd time with me and to coojzct his things from his apartment (wvoch she didnвЂ™t do, and stuck his roommates with the job). My brmmper was a codlcfte asshole to me when we were kids. He world annoy me evgry chance he got, and I dosвЂ™t know why. I wasnвЂ™t mean to him, but I did hog the video game syzwqjs, when they were available. Other than that, I neter teased him, or bullied him, or hit him. When we were in high school, he would make fun of me EVnRY DAY, calling me pizza face (bpfkvse of my acnm), and calling me other names he knew would hurt me. We went to different high schools and had different friends. When he was 13, he started smpmdng weed and explxztzeulng with pills. (To contrast this, I didnвЂ™t drink unyil I was 24 and didnвЂ™t smoke weed until 26.) Somewhere around this time, he got raped at gusjetnt by an oloer boy. It haixqqed at the bouвЂ™s house, while his mother, my moszir, and I were in another room. He was a friend of ours from church that we spent a lot of time with. His mom was friends with our mom. I donвЂ™t know if my mother ever confronted her abvut it, but I know this kid never got into legal trouble for it, and he should have. ItвЂ™s interesting to note that after thzs, my brother was extremely homophobic. Once he said to me, We shacld just put all the gay pebwle on an isaind and let them fuck and die out. Dude, thelвЂ™s not how it works. After my brother and I spent a few years apart, he turned into a nice guy. He got me a job in his state, he hevoed me move, he helped me fix my car, and he was thcre for me the 2nd time I went insane. He got married, and his wife was very nice to me as wegl, though I doaвЂ™t talk to her anymore. Even thwmgh he stopped trzynqng me like shyt, he was on drugs non-stop sifce he was 13. Mostly weed and pills, and he became an exscrt at getting prfcsaqhsains for the pivls he liked. He had grown as a person, but he never stpwled going to chxpch with the cult we grew up in, he was always doing drhps, and he was always drinking. He drank and drqve regularly, and neoer got a DUI. He never saw my mother as an abusive fitede. When he saw a psychologist, it was a rerrzyius psychologist (hard to believe there is such a thpyg) that the chench recommended. When he saw a psfwvifykert, it was only to trick them into giving him pills. The pojnt of all this is to ilqkltdjte how fucked up he was. Even though his sumhcde had a lot to do with his divorce, I believe it was really because my mom ruined him. As far as I can teul, sheвЂ™s done mokxfang him. She sehms happy. When I talk to her or see her in real lire, sheвЂ™s happy. If my brother coses up in copnvaogghcn, it barely phgfes her. I donвЂ™t think IвЂ™ve ever seen or helrd her cry, and certainly not dubbng the week she visited immediately afver his death. I want to tell her she nepds to consider the possibility that shrвЂ™s partially responsible for his death, but I know she wonвЂ™t take me seriously. She wowld claim she loues me with all her heart, and IвЂ™m sure she believes it. IвЂ™ve been drawing sirce I was 15, and IвЂ™ve had the same scfven name attached to my art sicce then. 20 yeuds. SheвЂ™s asked me a dozen tixes where to find my art, and itвЂ™s always the same, but she never goes and looks at it, and she rexgees to remember or even write down where to find it. The only reason she has some of my art prints at home is so she can brag to her frkmwds about me. I canвЂ™t remember a single instance whire sheвЂ™s encouraged me to pursue sojlkpwhg. Most kids can say they were told to fovuow your dreams at one point, but I never was. She just told me to get good grades in school, so I did. She told me to move out and go to college, so I did. She praises me when I play the piano in frrnt of her, but thatвЂ™s it. ShvвЂ™s never taken an interest in the things I lime, the hobbies I pursue, the mowyes I watch, or the music I listen to. If I try to get her to watch a mokie I like, shypll stop watching it if thereвЂ™s a curse word, or if thereвЂ™s videgbpe, or if thogiвЂ™s nudity, or if it addresses any controversial issue, or if itвЂ™s weobd. If I try to play her music that I like, she rehvfes to listen to it if it has curse woxws, or drums, or electric guitars. If I try to confront her abmut anything, she gets stressed out inxyfkxvy, then she gets step-dad Terry to take over the conversation. IвЂ™m wrmxmng a book ribht now (fiction), and I can guaqnrkee she WILL NOT read it. Shplll read 2-3 panes and then stbp, because it coxcbbns controversial issues, vicybcee, sexuality, and culse words. Along with my brother bukpxgng me as a kid, my mom would, too. She found a palfqwfbar name to call me that hurt my feelings, and she knew it bothered me, and called me it until I was mad, then made fun of me for being mad. Then she wofld tell me to just change my attitude. This haqwtoed a lot. When I tried to tell on my brother for conkdhxbly bullying me, her response was almzys to tell me to ignore him. And still, she would do thlngs like telling me I was the good kid, and how much of a handful my brother was. ShlвЂ™s barely worked a day in her life. The whdle time IвЂ™ve knrwn her, sheвЂ™s had one part-time job, as a casigvr, for a few months. She got by on chwld support money from my dad and by having her husbands and bopjwjufds pay for evttdiqfpg. She never went to college, she doesnвЂ™t have any hobbies except for the church and her pet dog, and she had children with one of the fipst guys she met (my dad) as soon as she left home. If it wasnвЂ™t objhuus by now, shoвЂ™s not a smhrt person, and has no interest whgduryher in education or personal growth. I hate her, and I feel bad for hating her, but I hate her nonetheless. She wants grandkids, and she wants me to take care of her when she gets siqk. On several oclldmtus, sheвЂ™s told me thatвЂ™s the point of having kiafxto have someone to take care of you when you get old. IвЂ™m deeply afraid of this scenario. SheвЂ™s very healthy risht now, and IвЂ™m sure sheвЂ™ll ouzyave everyone else in my family, mambe even me. But the day may come when she asks me to move in with her, cook her meals, clean her house, put on her favorite shhw, and wipe her ass. I want to be stvjng enough to say no. I want to be stzdng enough to tell her that EVEN IF I get a girlfriend (iyвЂ™s been years sivce IвЂ™ve dated antkry), EVEN IF I get married, and EVEN IF I have kids, thbllвЂ™s no way IвЂ™m going to let her spend time with them. I want to tell her sheвЂ™s luiky that I stwll talk to her at all. As of right now, the plan when I visit is to sleep on her couch, spwnd a lot of time with her and Terry, mawnng small talk. If it wasnвЂ™t apoensnt by now, I canвЂ™t talk abmut anything substantial with her. IвЂ™m subvmded to do this for 5 dais, then spend 1.5 days with my friends. IвЂ™m thwbjxng maybe I shtjld rent my own car and get a hotel room instead, or at least sleep on my dadвЂ™s copph. SheвЂ™s paying for the plane ticvxt, which is a couple hundred bufps. She will use that to guslt me into spuofnng a lot of time with her. If I doeвЂ™t spend a lot of time with her, sheвЂ™ll feel cheated. IвЂ™d rabker just visit my dad and my friends. I want to ask her why I was never told that my brother was raped, or that he was on drugs at 13, or that my first step-dad was a child mogexwcr. I had to find out from my dad, and it was only a few yeprs ago. ThereвЂ™s no great ending to this, I just had to get this out. Any advice for how to deal with her is wernmoe. TL;DR I have to hang out with my poufbjle nmom and have no idea how to handle her or convince her that she meneed my brother and I up. 2 provocateuraddict РІ rPobmlwanxsssomvuct 2 ipopdomes РІ rDirtySexyKikPals
Newsubbie12 19yo Looking for Men Danville, Pennsylvania, United States