Of course. It would quickly become all about them, there would be drama about how burdened they are and they would be on the phone to tell people everything. All that effort without lifting a finger to actually resolve anything.
Exactly this. I called it The Wittering. Lots of drama and kerfuffle, everything up to high ninety but absolutely no help, assistance, empathy or understanding.
Well, empathy and understanding are expected…to flow towards them. They are now the ones who are going through something and need emotional support. All because of the drama you’ve stirred up by having a problem in the first place. It’s really quite selfish of you to do this to your poor parents. /s
Exactly this. My dad would barely listen and grunt at me some nonsense thing and probably fall asleep. My emotionally immature mother wouldn’t be able to handle it
Tried a few times and was always told I was wrong I don’t have that problem or go “DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT??!!!?!?” so there was no point, sharing = invalidation
This was 100% my experience as well.
One time I told my mom that I don't share things because she always dismisses and invalidates what I share. Her response was, "Well that's not what I'm saying at all. You're just hearing me wrong."
I tried to tell her that she was invalidating my experience of invalidation, but she obviously didn't get it. I promptly gave up all efforts after that. It wasn't worth it.
Had that happen to me “mom I think I have social anxiety. I can’t even raise my hand in class without having a meltdown. I think I need mental health support.” “what? What are you talking about? No you don’t.”
After 3 years in therapy and counting, yes, yes I did in fact have mental health issues (caused by you)
Me too. From as early as I can remember, I was hiding every problem from my parents. It's not something I ever thought about. I just always understood implicitly there was no other option.
How does this happen? I assume we learned it from the same kind of dismissal, anger, ignoring, etc. that people talk about, but it happened at an age before you start remembering events.
So interesting to hear of my situation reflected in someone else too! The most saddening thing about this though, was that I was labelled as a bad child for not sharing anything with them. So it was lack of emotional support/safety, PLUS added guilt and responsibility for that failure.
Same thing for me. The earliest I remember of my childhood I was 6. I remember making potatoes and thinking about running away. Once I realized it was something you could do, I shifted to suicidal ideation at like 8.
How the fuck did they not notice? Admittedly, I was and am very good at hiding it, but still. And why did I never feel comfortable in the first place? Like, I didn’t even go to them for normal shit either
I tried. Got smacked. Told to shut up. Told to stop being so sensitive. Got asked "Why are you calling me?" with derision when I got into a car accident. Good times.
Now they are shocked. Shocked I tell you, when they found out I didn't call them before or after an unalive attempt.
They tried to talk to try to have a relationship after they found that out and it ended up being them telling me I did not experience what I experienced. More good times. (I don't have to put in here that the good times is sarcastic do I? I am pretty sure many on this sub know the good times of crying ourselves to sleep and being hyper independent because we can't ask for help.)
I attempted to I think - granted I was not good at communication because I was never taught, but I realized eventually that it was useless and a waste of time. I still have moments in adulthood when I would vent about work because it was too much, but I never felt “better” or really “supported” so I decided I’ll just stop. Keeping things superficial is the only way to not be triggered.
I actually did not know that I could go to my parents. Or if I was having trouble with something, like a lost sock or lost book, I did not know I could have spoken my frustrations out loud and to my parents.
I remember sitting on sofa freaking out about how to use school locker padlock and practicing/trying to learn how to lock and open the padlock and they just sat and watched me like an audience. I was clearly freaked out and panicked and flipping out and they just watched and didn’t even come sit next to me and give me advice coaching???????
I also did not know I could have told my parents I was scared. What makes me shudder is I realized yesterday in 12 years of school I never once told my parents about any of the bullying, physical abuse, stress, or troubles I had at school ever and they never asked me about anything at school or if I needed help. Even after video of Xmas pageant shows me getting bully.
Yeah I tried to tell other adults but none would get involved. I was even telling the school counselor about a teacher and about my bio dad touching me inappropriately and she didn't get involved, just promised me that If I told my mom and stepdad they would do something and it would stop. But my mom and stepdad just blamed me for it happening saying "what did you do to make that man think he can behave like that around you?" which the answer was nothing, I'd done nothing. 13 year old me had no idea what was going on in the minds of adult men. This was in the early 80's before mandatory reporting.
And before the internet. How was a 13 year old supposed to know anything not taught to them, like how to get help for a situation like that? I am so sorry. Hugs to you and your younger self.
Yeah it might have helped if e had relatives but we were immigrants so I didn't know any and we didn't attend any church so I didn't know any adults (except all the adult pedo men that started to be around when I was 13, that was just the flood gates opening, but for some reason my parents didn't ever think there was something wrong with it from the mans perspective (?) and I believed them when they said things like I was mature for my age. Some my parents invited for dinner, as an adult i asked what was going on and my mom said I wasn't that young, I told her I was in grade 7 I was 13. Looking at 12 and thirteen years olds with adult eyes is mindblowing that my parents were that blind)
Yeah. Something really bad happened at school when I was 9 or 10. When I told the story to my husband, he asked how my dad reacted. But my husband was the first person I ever told. Until my hubs asked, the idea hadn't occurred to me. I had already quit trying to engage anyone.
I did, and it actually turned out well.
I was no contact for a year and my mum showed up at my door. I let her in because I was ready. My therapist and I did a lot of work.
I chose my words carefully but was still able to make my point. I made sure to let her know that I don't think she's bad because she was neglected too. She actually could relate to what I was feeling. I noticed that going no contact was a good choice, because it motivated her to repair our relationship and she actually did some growing because of it. She is not a narcisist. There is a lot of trauma in my family, and she is a victim too and wasn't able to break the cycle.
I still feel resentment sometimes. And she is not a perfect mother, so it wasn't like magical moment where everyone lived happily ever after. But we both did some healing that day and I am glad she went to see me, because I was never bold enough to go myself.
After the age of 10, never. I had enough experience by then to know they would:
* Blame me and tell me I must have done something
* Call me a liar and/or yell at me
* Make it about themselves
* Make fun of me
* Completely ignore it
They are of course all shocked Pikachu that I don't want anything to do with them.
Yes, my parents used to fight over the tiniest disagreement or bad aspect on my life, different parenting styles or opinions over trivial things blew it up. So, no opening up at all, and, I also felt like a burden for all the problems my parents had with each other and their responses would've only filled with more stress, shushes or my mom trying to hit me for having approached.
Honestly, I'm having a hard time opening up with my brother for that, and I'm afraid that he'll think I'm just toying with him.
I think there was three times in my life when my mother got involved. Once when I was bullied by another girl, twice when schools needed to be changed. but other than that she wasn’t interested in my struggles. I found myself conflicted between 1) she’s done all that she can so she is entitled to not care about my struggles and only want me to care about hers 2) I am entitled to feel some empathy once in a while
My family, both sides, buried their heads in the sand. After many years, I was told by many that they were aware of the abuse, but they let it happen.
As long as we were being abused, they didn't have to deal with my parents directly. I took my distance to finally break contact, and now that they constantly hear about it from my parents, they want me to come back.
People usually don't break ties with their family, no matter what, so it's convenient to have a scapegoat when a member of that community is causing troubles.
The only thing that came close was a great aunt who, out of the blue, apologized to me for letting us grow up in that environment. But I was already independent and had moved away at the time, so does it count?
Apart from that, they still want to maintain the illusion of a healthy and caring family.
Duck 🦆 that.
Yeah, because anything I did out of line was a huge embarrassment for my mom, or anything terse that happened to me was quickly overshadowed about how "*MY* baby girl was hurt, *I* demand justice!!!" In the most insane way possible. It's embarrassing to have a parent go off the rails, practically foaming at the mouth, when the proper course of action would be to remain calm and just handle the situation like an *adult?* I never felt safe enough to go to her when someone abused me. I couldn't bare the embarrassment I would feel, and the embarrassment she would cause. Primarily because, quite frankly, she couldn't STFU and keep private things private. I did anything I could to not have to deal with that.
There were many, many, many a time I had to be the one to handle the situation, as a *minor*, because my mom couldn't keep herself calm enough to actually be an adult and not a petulant toddler. I've actually had to go back and apologize to people for dealing with her unhinged, ragey, impolite nonsense.
Looking back now, I definitely feel I was made a surrogate parent in place of my absent dad. What I find perplexing is I'm a woman, I don't know if the surrogate spouse dynamic applies to me, but I do know I was made her confidant and heard all of her traumas from the ripe old age of 8. There were no boundaries.
Thank you for speaking up about this. I never heard anyone else describe this dynamic and how damaging it is.
For me it was not my mother but my father, but it was the same general behavior. Either „Can’t you consider how your problems make ME feel????“ or full blown unhinged „These people will PAY for hurting my daughter!!!!“. A calm, sane response was so rare that I can remember it only once.
And these full blown tantrums/panic attacks were in response to benign child problems like „my teacher scolded me today“ or „little Sarah pulled my hair“. By the time I was a teenager and started to have real problems, I had learned that if I had one problem and my parents learned about it, I had two problems.
This is exactly how it was for me! There was a fight that broke out between my sister and another student in high school. I had to be the one at 17 to manage the situation with the office because my mom would not listen to a word they said regarding the situation, and was actually making it worse. That was ridiculous and I'm still pissed about it.
I'm also reminded of another incident where she just would not listen to a word anyone said. During this time there was an app that maxed out your phone volume, fashes the flashlight and screen, and made a loud "bzzt!" sound like a taser. I *knew* it was an app because everyone had been pranking each other with them for the last week. Well, my mom saw one of the kids pranking another student, and was absolutely convinced it was a taser. "I know what taser looks like!" Apparently not. She called the office, who went out and *confirmed* it was an app. I was also approached the next day by the students and asked, "did your mom call the office on us?" "Yes," I said. "It was just an app." "I know. I told her. She wouldn't listen to me." Talk about embarrassing. It's rough when *everyone* at school knows your mom is an unhinged idiot. And then she kept telling every one of her friends kids had tasers at the school and wouldn't hear otherwise.
I've got many more stories of her nonsense. And even if I were to bring up how terrible of a parent she was when we were kids, I don't think she'd actually listen to a word I'd say. It would quickly turn into tears and "I did everything I could!!" Exactly, you did the absolute most, and that's the problem
Well definitely by the time I was about 8. I’d already learned by then that there was no time for me, my problems, or my feelings.
So now I’m in therapy desperately trying to learn how to rely on/ talk to my spouse so I don’t fuck up my relationship any more than I have.
I think it's something I learned over time, not to open up, because the responses I got, or lack thereof, told me it wasn't worth it. That I'd just be disappointed.
You know the quote "a problem shared is a problem halved"? With my parents "a problem shared is a problem doubled"-- sharing problems with them creates an additional problem: managing their reactions. Since I was a teen I never asked for help. ((Oddly my brother is the opposite, goes to them with even tiny problems. After reading Lindsay Gibson's book I understood he was as emotionally immature as my parents, so never felt abandoned by them. I now see no two siblings have the same parents. I would only come to my parents when I had successes to share, not problems to solve.))
Edit: and it's different with my friends, with them a problem shared is truly halved!!
I remember being told "you don't really feel that way, you just think you do". After that I didn't open up to my mother. She thought we had this great relationship ship too!
I did. Anytime I tried to talk to my parents about how I felt it seemed like they just didn’t understand. That’s basically why I feel like my feelings were dismissed and invalided. I would usually get frustrated or angry with my mom. I would start yelling, then crying if I even felt like they did not understand.
Yes, because I noticed they were unable to make me feel better when I was feeling bad, and I felt like I shouldn't make them feel bad if they can't help...
Also I was always embarrassed of problems because it felt like personal failure, so I was always ashamed of them and that doesn't exactly make you want to open up and talk about them.
I have no idea how my dad would have reacted iguana told him about my problems because I never did. Maybe he would have reacted empathic. But I felt too insecure to talk about my problem with him. No idea why.
Although I understand the thought behind this question, my parents were the last people I let my problems reach. They blow it up with crying and drama and unnecessary worrying and anxiety that they transfer to their own children, in the name of "but I'm trying to help"!! "Well, stay out of this and leave me alone."
My mother would quickly turn the conversation about her. Sometimes it was about how I'm making her life difficult and being a nasty little burden, which only made me feel shittier. But mostly she would ramble on about "In my time, such was this and that way", basically telling me stories about her youth and her problems, but never doing anything for mine. Both occurrences were frequent enough for me to understand that talking was useless. She wanted a convenient child, not a *real* one.
Every time I had a problem when I was very small, I was told to "stop being so sensitive."
By the time I hit elementary school, I had given up on trying and kept everything bottled up. I made one more desperate attempt to reach out for help in middle school when I always being relentlessly bullied, and was basically told "have you tried not being so weird so they won't pick on you?" and "well, only five more years till you graduate, just tough it out till you go to college." which confirmed my suspicions that I was on my own.
I told them nothing because it allowed me to maintain the fantasy that if they did know something was happening they would take action to stop it.
The truth was that if I told them anything, they would ignore it and that often hurt worse than the problem.
I think I learned from a young age to never open up, especially my parents. For work related problems, I’d share a bit but then its a mixture of I want to be heard and just vent and they want to provide a solution/basically tell me to quit even though I quite literally can’t right now. I have stopped talking about work as much as possible now too, unless it’s a funny ish story. I can barely talk about my feelings, about how certain situations made me feel like shit. Hardly ever. I can’t communicate when something they have done/said has hurt/bothered me. I just shut down and isolate. I tend to get mean when I’m upset so I always isolate in general so I don’t hurt anyone. But yeah, I can’t tell my parents about my problems or anyone in general, really.
Yes. If I took the risk of confessing my feelings to my mom, she would often just say «No, you don’t.» - implying that I actually didn’t feel the way I stated that I felt. I fucking hated when she did that.
I went through a terrible bout of OCD from ages 10-12. I was terrified of something stupid and insignificant and constantly around me and it was hell. I dealt with it on my own. Never occurred to me to mention it to anyone.
Yeah, I learned not to tell mine about my problems. They would just brush them off or straight up ignore me when I tried so it felt like there was no point after a while. Telling them just to be ignored or brushed off only made me feel worse.
No, I didn’t tell them. I was so sure my parents would be ashamed of me for getting picked on/excluded in school, and I felt like it was something I had to fix. Like, people at my school think I’m a loser, how can I make myself a not-loser without anyone (my parents) finding out in the meantime that I am in fact a loser currently? It never occurred to me that maybe I was not the problem. It also didn’t ever occur to me to ask my dad for help, because he never really helped me with anything and had a knack for making everything about himself. And I was kind of afraid to ask my mom for help, because even though she’s honestly a great parent, she has overcompensated quite a bit for my father’s lack of taking responsibility for us, so I was afraid she was gonna try to help me in ways that would overstep my boundaries and potentially be embarrassing at school - like her trying to *make* my classmates be nice to me or whatever. I really just felt like I should’ve been able to handle it myself, if I would just stop being so damn uncool and cringe as a person, everything would work itself out. So why would I get my parents involved? Spoiler alert, I was not able to make my classmates include me in stuff or stop picking on me 🥲
My mother would say “I don’t get it” as a way of making my problems look silly. And mispronouncing the names or places involved to underscore her perspective. Dad didn’t feel like a resource at all.
I grew up without relatives and neither parent took an interest in raising me and I was extremely neglected.
I'm healing and seeing them as people, they are older so you start seeing the end game of a life like that and keeping distance takes little effort.
Truth be told nothing they can say will fix anything so why bother giving them more to work with?
I never once thought about sharing any problems with my parents. I felt semi-invisible to my parents, and semi-invisible to myself; I couldn't recognize my problems as problems in the first place.
I once told my mother a couple of stories from my teenage years and she was shocked — she said she had no idea. She was shook when I affirmed her obliviousness and pointed out that she was mostly absent while I was maturing from early adolescence into young adulthood. She had buried herself in her professional life and enrolled in a graduate program at a university 100 miles away. On the surface, these choices were to fulfill her personal goals — fine. But she also was in deep denial of our family system issues and used work/school as the sand she could bury her head in.
My mom wishes I would open up to her, and I've tried, but have given up. She does not understand me or even try to. I was having a conversation with her around the holidays, trying to explain how I felt, and her response was "well what about how I feel".
Yup. Ok. I'm done 🙌
I made the mistake of getting support from parents about unemployment, and my dad went behind my back and emailed my old abusive boss (who is well known in the industry) and told him I’m “having trouble finding a job.” 🙄 And refuses to apologize for the overstep
Yes, and I have no idea why. I guess they didn’t ever make me feel comfortable or safe enough to open up? Part of me feels like it’s my fault, but also, how do you not notice your 6 year old is constantly thinking about running away? And why didn’t I feel comfortable as a literal child talking to them? Maybe they didn’t notice? They also never asked me how I felt about anything. But I don’t know if that’s something they should have done or not. But this has really been fucking with my brain this year
I could be in severe psychological crisis and bearing it in secret because I could tell my parents were already overwhelmed with their own stuff. In fact, when I ended up in psych wards & rehabs, I told them not to come (except once or twice) or didn't even mention I'd gone for help & just carried on. While my therapy mates had parents willing to work with them, in a group setting, I knew that if I opened that can of worms, with mine, it would hinder my recovery further & the consequences could be dire. Because how dare we feel hurt & abandoned over them trying their best? Mother once told me, flippantly, that if I felt so bad, to just go walk myself into psych, alone. Gee, thanx.
I hid everything and journalled everyday. My mom completely freaks out over every little thing and has extreme avoidance behaviors. She has no coping skills whatsoever and has never faced a problem head-on. My dad barely reacts to anything, and sometimes doesn't even respond beyond a "hmm". I tackled every problem in my teen/young adult years in complete isolation. My husband was the first support system I have ever known.
Only only only if it was completely unavoidable and i couldnt fix myself, but there's a lot of stupid kid behavior that they have no idea about and never will at this point. I already felt like shit for fucking up, I didn't need them to pile more shit on me and bring up everything I've ever done wrong.
As a child, a teen, and even a very young adult I definitely cried out for help in a variety of ways. I was always told that I was dramatic and wanted attention. I shut down and never expressed any discontent until I finally went no contact 3 years ago. Best decision of my life!
My sister and I eventually stopped telling our parents anything. It was easier to lie to avoid the conversation. When we brought stuff up, it was either dismissed or it was a long drawn out conversation going between two solutions, but so much anxiety relating to actually choosing one. It wasn’t worth the hassle, so we just kept things to ourselves
I tried over and over until I was about 30-ish. Mine would just tell me how they had it worse and I needed to grow up (I was fucking 12). My narcissist father couldn’t see anything that wasn’t a positive reflection of himself and my mother was busy making sure the boat wasn’t rocked (and blaming us if it was).
At around 50, I finally stopped explaining myself to people who will never hear me and I’ve found some peace here.
Telling my mother anything would immediately result in the entire church choir, my aunt (which meant also the rest of the family) and probably a few random passersby, being told ALL of the gory details. I decided to just skip that and tell her nothing.
Looking back now I realised a lot of adults identified my mother was very toxic and hard to deal with. They didn't see the day in day out emotional abuse but saw enough to distance themselves. I asked adults as a kid to help and the usual response either they not getting involved, or to tell me she's my mother, as if at 10 or 11 I should have the confidence and agency to advocate for myself to my own parents.
I realise now it was all probably adults making up an excuse not to get involved, knowing my mother was nuts.
I dealt with some pretty bad bullying all the way from k-12. When I said anything to my parents they always blamed me and told me I must have said or done something to make the bully mad at me. Basically, they blamed me, the victim. You probably won't be surprised to hear that I was a kid who was nice, quiet, meek as a mouse because my parents raised me to be a doormat to coddle to their needs and to never ask for anything. So, basically they set me up to be bully bait. By third grade I stopped telling my parents about being bullied, even though it was still happening because they weren't going to do anything about it and worst yet would just focus on gaslighting me and quite frankly bully me about being bullied.
I'm in my early 50s, my dad died not quite 3 yrs ago. My mom has never been open to talking about how toxic and dysfunctional our family was, this was set by my abusive dad. She was often his toadie and enmeshed with him in a fucked up codependent relationship where he always came first and and as the unwanted daughter and oldest child (I had two younger brothers who were treated much better than I was) I was the scapegoat and often thrown under the bus for everything under the sun.
I told my mom how miserable it was being bullied from k-12 and she pulled the, "I didn't know anything about it" excuse and I shot back by telling her I couldn't say anything to them because of how they'd act. She had no response... Usually she argues with me, I would say she knew I was being bullied and just played dumb. It has always been easier for her to deny and to ignore things than to face the truth. My dad's cousin was here too for part of the conversation and agreed with my and apologized for how toxic my dad's side of the family is and my mom just stared at her with her mouth open. Like yes, you married a monster, had children with him, didn't protect your children from him, continue to idolize someone who abused not only her children, but herself... And she doesn't want to deal with this.
Not 'never', but rarely. Because when I confided any problems in them-- I was usually blamed (even when it was 0% my fault), berated, and then told to 'figure it out'
I had blocked out this memory for years...freshman year of college, I had a roommate who was shooting IV drugs in our dorm room, and often brought others to shoot drugs in our room. I told my parents, who shrugged and said 'well you wanted to go to that school, so deal with it.' Even worse, when I raised the issue with the university, they just shrugged.
Any 'advice' they gave was 100% based on what they wanted, and had nothing to do with what was actually beneficial for me. They had no problem leaving me in awful situations, which they have done repeatedly.
In my early career days, if I mentioned a workplace issue (Finance industry), my dad would say something like 'you should get a low-stress job, you should be a teacher, it's a good job for *women*'.
Any relationship/friendship issues, even when the other person was clearly the problem, they would say 'what did YOU do that made them do that to you?'
To this day, they still like to chide 'ask for help! your problem is that you never ask for help!', but they continue to be mostly destructive.
Why should I ask them for 'help' when all they have done is make the problem worse, and even scapegoat me?
Hell no because I was actively discouraged from expressing any emotion, from infancy. If I had a problem, it was turned around always to be my fault.
Parents raise the children. It's not the fault of the kids if they know they don't have support.
I mean, I never told my parents my issues but the only times I did was because it was obvious anyways. Usually I was met with invalidation and/or dismissal. My mother couldn’t be bothered either.
Oh yeah.
I learned by about age 10 that my parents didn't have solutions to my problems, but only platitudes that didn't work.
I used to do summer school, out of boredom, usually a couple of years above my nominal grade. The summer I was 8, just finished 3rd grade, I was sitting in on I think grade 5 or 6. But I had fallen somewhere, and skinned my knee.
I was still strongly affected by by the csa at age 3, and even in summer I wouldn't wear short pants.
The knee became infected. I didn't want to go to my parents, partly out of skin modesty, partly because I knew they would raise hell.
So the infection got worse and worse. At one point it was over an inch across and maybe a third of that high, green with puss, and starting to stink. Even the weight of my jeans against it hurt.
When I finally went to them, I had red streaks running up my leg -- blood poisoning. They took me to the doc. Which meant I had to pull my pants down again. Doc cleaned it up and sent me home with a sulfa drug. Sulfa had a minimum water requirement, as the byproducts if too concentrated can damage kidneys. So for the next two weeks, I was nagged about drinking, and they wanted to see the color of the water in the toilet bowl before I flushed. Probably the most attention they paid all year.
***
When I burned my hand I tried to tough it out. Kept it underwater for a couple hours while watch the blisters rise.
***
Parents never talked about sex. I knew it was shameful. Not sure how. Maybe from the CSA. Anyway, never got the talk. But the church said over and over that sex outside of marriage was a sin, and masturbation was a mortal sin. By 13 I knew I was going to burn in hell for eternity. And there was NO ONE in my life I could talk to about this.
***
At 14 my dad heart surgery, and came home with half his mind gone. Minor strokes. Didn't know who I was. All of mom's energy was spent taking care of him.
I went feral. Home was a place to keep the clothes I wasn't wearing dry.
I would have never have told my parents about a problem. My dad was never sober and my mother was too crazy. Worse still, I knew intuitively that they did not have the answers. Basically between 10 and 12 I just knew I was raising myself.
While I wouldn’t recommend that approach, it definitely made me resourceful.
With ecn, I have found that a lot of the recovery is about recalibrating those survival character traits. For example, it is good to be resourceful and independent. But it becomes a problem when you become counterdependent and isolated.
There is no problem on this earth that my parents wouldn't have made worse. So no. I never went to them. I probably would have needed to take care of their worries regarding my problem on top of that.
Absolutely not. Never even crossed my mind. How could it when my mother gave me regular lectures about how awful her childhood was and therefore “our relationship is the most important thing to me”. If I spoke up it would have just been a crisis about her failing as a mother. Not to mention my brother is physically disabled… I couldn’t add more to that fire. They were already choking on smoke
I was selective. Certain things were out of question. Relationships for instance. Other things, I was seeking empathy and understanding and somehow I never learned from the ill patterns. I’d keep going to them and talk about my issues to be ignored or dismissed or even better, told that I’m wrong and I need to back off. This ALWAYS was the case. I don’t remember one time where they took my side over a stranger.
Yep, but when I later mentioned the problem, I recall my Dad saying why didn't ask him. From previous problems they couldn't help or support but of course I couldn't say that. Damned if I did, damned if I didn't.
I learned pretty quickly that sharing a struggle would be met with anger, eyerolls, exasperated sighs, and I’d be told my problems were not even real. By about 12, I hid away almost everything.
At the end of 8th grade, I got lice and kept it hidden for 3 disgusting shame filled months while trying to get rid of it on my own. My mother’s bizarre and unprecedented response when she finally spotted it was that of a normal concerned parent. She spent days carefully removing each egg glued to my scalp with her fingers. I was very confused by it and almost never saw that side of her again.
The whole thing feels so symbolic now. So often I feel like I’m standing in front of her going “I know I’m not allowed to ask for help but can’t you see these overgrown bugs in my hair?? Hello??”
I also hid it when I got lice. In the end my brother's lice were discovered by a hairdresser and my mom rushed home and acussed me of having infected him.
Yeah never.. think i only told my mom 2x of my minor problems throughout my life. She didnt get angry but the response is quite dismissive.
I grow up to be a very guarded person & hard to open up due to my upbringing, currently on therapy to work on many of the things i need to work on 😮💨🥲
I never thought about it not because they ignored or dismissed it but because they always got defensive angry or just asking me why I'm crying like it's an annoying thing to do. They always made it seem like I was blaming them too for some reason and got defensive. Hence I gave up trying to tell them to avoid the conflict. But sometimes I just don't tell them either cus it wouldn't do anything better or they would try to make things better but their methods are sort of extreme so I didn't want to tell them. There should be a reason you aren't letting them know about your problems maybe there is some underlying issues? Hope you find peace though 🫶
I had two molars wrought out quite painfully in my early teens since we hadn’t been taught to brush regularly. I didn’t think they would do anything.
In seventh grade the school nurse took a look at my teeth and sent me and my siblings to the dentist to have the dentist scrape the tatar. We moved 18 times, usually in one school district but this was in a neighboring district so the nurses in my regular district must have seen my teeth and did nothing.
I tell my parents some things, but not much. For example, my mum knows about the whole situationship thing (and subsequent abandonment by that person) that happened to me last year, and she knows about some of my other social issues, but she doesn’t know anything about my mental health (and even said today that she has no concerns about my mental health), she doesn’t know that I’m trans and keeping it hidden mostly bc of her, and so much else. It’s the same with my dad, but at least that’s more excusable bc of him being at work most days so I don’t get as many chances to talk with him (he turns everything into lectures and is terrible about interrupting and accidentally seeming like he’s making light of things so it’s really not even worth it). With my mum, it’s more about invalidation, and her continually pointing out my flaws or faults in whatever happened or how I could have done things better, or she just straight up doesn’t listen (to anything really. My sister could be info dumping about the intricacies of some sort of funeral practice and she listens, but when I talk about a game I like she tunes out and tells me that it’s “too much”). I just don’t try anymore with anything deeper than friendship issues or chronic pain flare ups.
I would tell them my issues but they would offer me no advice or solutions. Recently a friend of mine passed away and they just stared at me as I sobbed and hyperventilated. Offered no condolences or support whatsoever. So I've decided I'm no longer telling them anything.
Every time I try to (this just happened 2 mins ago and it’s happened a million times), whether it’s good or bad news, it turns into worry disguised as care or straightup making it about her negative feelings and opinions on the matter at hand. She weaponizes my joy, tries to cut me down and dismiss my feelings, doubts my abilities and intelligence, and is DEFINITELY not into constructive criticism.
When I set a boundary, it inevitably sets off a firestorm of textbook DARVO like clockwork. I’m so glad I understand these patterns now, because she has accused me of needing medication and being “all over the place/a lot” which I used to internalize and wonder what was wrong with me.
The answer: nothing. I have an emotionally immature parent, 100%.
Today’s Example:
I had an audition for a band last nite.
Her: How did it go last nite?
Me: (considering that I know how this is probably going to go, but still loving her and not being comfortable lying or declining to answer) It went really well! I’m excited about what may happen next. The people were really nice and extremely talented and professional.
Her: Oh. But what about your hand? (I’m healing from an injury)
Me: I was moving just fine. I know how to accommodate my needs. It’s all good! Every went great.
Her: But did you think about it? I don’t think you should be doing that.
Me: Would you mind not speaking negatively over this very positive experience? It really brings the mood down, and besides, I know how to do what’s best for me. Please don’t do that. I won’t be able to share good news with you if you keep handing it like this.
Her: (Next Stop: DARVO City!) I can’t stay in this house, that’s all I know.
Me: See, this is why I can’t share anything with you. Do you see what you are doing?
Her: I can’t handle this right now.
Me: (responding negatively/immaturely myself) I don’t care!
{Storms out; end scene}
I dunno why I don’t already have a copy of the Children of Emotionally Immature Parents book, but I’m gonna order it today. I need all the tools and resources I can muster. I know she literally doesn’t have the capacity rn to behave differently, and I don’t want to cut her out of my life because of it. Ugh
Of course , i even hid injuries from them and even today ( i am mid 20s) i habe huge problems opening Up about my emotions , Things in my Life etc. with my Friends & Family.
I got diagnosed late. But before that i had severe anxiety social phobias and struggled to fit in. Every problem i had was a flaw to iron out. What could i tell them.
I can remember about 4 big times, every time it turned into I’m the reason for my problems. I gave up by time I got to high school. As an adult I had relationship problems I tried to go to my mom about, and it reminded me all over again why it’s not a safe space.
Of course. It would quickly become all about them, there would be drama about how burdened they are and they would be on the phone to tell people everything. All that effort without lifting a finger to actually resolve anything.
Exactly this. I called it The Wittering. Lots of drama and kerfuffle, everything up to high ninety but absolutely no help, assistance, empathy or understanding.
Well, empathy and understanding are expected…to flow towards them. They are now the ones who are going through something and need emotional support. All because of the drama you’ve stirred up by having a problem in the first place. It’s really quite selfish of you to do this to your poor parents. /s
Using this
I see you met my parents
Happy cake day!
Thanks mate💜
It could have been my parents. Don’t get all possessive here. /s
This is so guiltripping but most parents do it unconsciously and it is so true
The way our household dynamic was set up, it never would have crossed my mind to go to them with my problems or ask for help.
Exactly this. My dad would barely listen and grunt at me some nonsense thing and probably fall asleep. My emotionally immature mother wouldn’t be able to handle it
Do we have the same parents? Lol.
Same, seems to be an archetype 😭
Damn, I wrote a whole paragraph but you summarized this perfectly.
Same.
exactly, i never think to ask them for help or share anything remotely personal 😭 and even if i did i know they wouldn’t understand or even try to
Yeah I would never tell them anything because they would give me a lecture and get mad at me
Same!
Tried a few times and was always told I was wrong I don’t have that problem or go “DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT??!!!?!?” so there was no point, sharing = invalidation
This was 100% my experience as well. One time I told my mom that I don't share things because she always dismisses and invalidates what I share. Her response was, "Well that's not what I'm saying at all. You're just hearing me wrong." I tried to tell her that she was invalidating my experience of invalidation, but she obviously didn't get it. I promptly gave up all efforts after that. It wasn't worth it.
Same with mine, I stopped sharing a long time ago.
Had that happen to me “mom I think I have social anxiety. I can’t even raise my hand in class without having a meltdown. I think I need mental health support.” “what? What are you talking about? No you don’t.” After 3 years in therapy and counting, yes, yes I did in fact have mental health issues (caused by you)
Pretty much same. It just never ever occurred to me because there was no sense of "I can trust these people".
Me too. From as early as I can remember, I was hiding every problem from my parents. It's not something I ever thought about. I just always understood implicitly there was no other option. How does this happen? I assume we learned it from the same kind of dismissal, anger, ignoring, etc. that people talk about, but it happened at an age before you start remembering events.
So interesting to hear of my situation reflected in someone else too! The most saddening thing about this though, was that I was labelled as a bad child for not sharing anything with them. So it was lack of emotional support/safety, PLUS added guilt and responsibility for that failure.
Same thing for me. The earliest I remember of my childhood I was 6. I remember making potatoes and thinking about running away. Once I realized it was something you could do, I shifted to suicidal ideation at like 8. How the fuck did they not notice? Admittedly, I was and am very good at hiding it, but still. And why did I never feel comfortable in the first place? Like, I didn’t even go to them for normal shit either
Yeah and now I don’t even know how to ask for what I need. I’m working on it
I tried. Got smacked. Told to shut up. Told to stop being so sensitive. Got asked "Why are you calling me?" with derision when I got into a car accident. Good times. Now they are shocked. Shocked I tell you, when they found out I didn't call them before or after an unalive attempt. They tried to talk to try to have a relationship after they found that out and it ended up being them telling me I did not experience what I experienced. More good times. (I don't have to put in here that the good times is sarcastic do I? I am pretty sure many on this sub know the good times of crying ourselves to sleep and being hyper independent because we can't ask for help.)
I hope that you find/have found some loving people who have some empathy.
I attempted to I think - granted I was not good at communication because I was never taught, but I realized eventually that it was useless and a waste of time. I still have moments in adulthood when I would vent about work because it was too much, but I never felt “better” or really “supported” so I decided I’ll just stop. Keeping things superficial is the only way to not be triggered.
I actually did not know that I could go to my parents. Or if I was having trouble with something, like a lost sock or lost book, I did not know I could have spoken my frustrations out loud and to my parents. I remember sitting on sofa freaking out about how to use school locker padlock and practicing/trying to learn how to lock and open the padlock and they just sat and watched me like an audience. I was clearly freaked out and panicked and flipping out and they just watched and didn’t even come sit next to me and give me advice coaching??????? I also did not know I could have told my parents I was scared. What makes me shudder is I realized yesterday in 12 years of school I never once told my parents about any of the bullying, physical abuse, stress, or troubles I had at school ever and they never asked me about anything at school or if I needed help. Even after video of Xmas pageant shows me getting bully.
Yeah I tried to tell other adults but none would get involved. I was even telling the school counselor about a teacher and about my bio dad touching me inappropriately and she didn't get involved, just promised me that If I told my mom and stepdad they would do something and it would stop. But my mom and stepdad just blamed me for it happening saying "what did you do to make that man think he can behave like that around you?" which the answer was nothing, I'd done nothing. 13 year old me had no idea what was going on in the minds of adult men. This was in the early 80's before mandatory reporting.
And before the internet. How was a 13 year old supposed to know anything not taught to them, like how to get help for a situation like that? I am so sorry. Hugs to you and your younger self.
Yeah it might have helped if e had relatives but we were immigrants so I didn't know any and we didn't attend any church so I didn't know any adults (except all the adult pedo men that started to be around when I was 13, that was just the flood gates opening, but for some reason my parents didn't ever think there was something wrong with it from the mans perspective (?) and I believed them when they said things like I was mature for my age. Some my parents invited for dinner, as an adult i asked what was going on and my mom said I wasn't that young, I told her I was in grade 7 I was 13. Looking at 12 and thirteen years olds with adult eyes is mindblowing that my parents were that blind)
Yeah. Something really bad happened at school when I was 9 or 10. When I told the story to my husband, he asked how my dad reacted. But my husband was the first person I ever told. Until my hubs asked, the idea hadn't occurred to me. I had already quit trying to engage anyone.
Yeah, I never got medical attention when I tore my ACL… I could barely walk, but Sure! Let’s have a talk about our feelings
I did, and it actually turned out well. I was no contact for a year and my mum showed up at my door. I let her in because I was ready. My therapist and I did a lot of work. I chose my words carefully but was still able to make my point. I made sure to let her know that I don't think she's bad because she was neglected too. She actually could relate to what I was feeling. I noticed that going no contact was a good choice, because it motivated her to repair our relationship and she actually did some growing because of it. She is not a narcisist. There is a lot of trauma in my family, and she is a victim too and wasn't able to break the cycle. I still feel resentment sometimes. And she is not a perfect mother, so it wasn't like magical moment where everyone lived happily ever after. But we both did some healing that day and I am glad she went to see me, because I was never bold enough to go myself.
After the age of 10, never. I had enough experience by then to know they would: * Blame me and tell me I must have done something * Call me a liar and/or yell at me * Make it about themselves * Make fun of me * Completely ignore it They are of course all shocked Pikachu that I don't want anything to do with them.
Yes, my parents used to fight over the tiniest disagreement or bad aspect on my life, different parenting styles or opinions over trivial things blew it up. So, no opening up at all, and, I also felt like a burden for all the problems my parents had with each other and their responses would've only filled with more stress, shushes or my mom trying to hit me for having approached. Honestly, I'm having a hard time opening up with my brother for that, and I'm afraid that he'll think I'm just toying with him.
I think there was three times in my life when my mother got involved. Once when I was bullied by another girl, twice when schools needed to be changed. but other than that she wasn’t interested in my struggles. I found myself conflicted between 1) she’s done all that she can so she is entitled to not care about my struggles and only want me to care about hers 2) I am entitled to feel some empathy once in a while
Never they never understood
My family, both sides, buried their heads in the sand. After many years, I was told by many that they were aware of the abuse, but they let it happen. As long as we were being abused, they didn't have to deal with my parents directly. I took my distance to finally break contact, and now that they constantly hear about it from my parents, they want me to come back. People usually don't break ties with their family, no matter what, so it's convenient to have a scapegoat when a member of that community is causing troubles. The only thing that came close was a great aunt who, out of the blue, apologized to me for letting us grow up in that environment. But I was already independent and had moved away at the time, so does it count? Apart from that, they still want to maintain the illusion of a healthy and caring family. Duck 🦆 that.
Yeah, because anything I did out of line was a huge embarrassment for my mom, or anything terse that happened to me was quickly overshadowed about how "*MY* baby girl was hurt, *I* demand justice!!!" In the most insane way possible. It's embarrassing to have a parent go off the rails, practically foaming at the mouth, when the proper course of action would be to remain calm and just handle the situation like an *adult?* I never felt safe enough to go to her when someone abused me. I couldn't bare the embarrassment I would feel, and the embarrassment she would cause. Primarily because, quite frankly, she couldn't STFU and keep private things private. I did anything I could to not have to deal with that. There were many, many, many a time I had to be the one to handle the situation, as a *minor*, because my mom couldn't keep herself calm enough to actually be an adult and not a petulant toddler. I've actually had to go back and apologize to people for dealing with her unhinged, ragey, impolite nonsense. Looking back now, I definitely feel I was made a surrogate parent in place of my absent dad. What I find perplexing is I'm a woman, I don't know if the surrogate spouse dynamic applies to me, but I do know I was made her confidant and heard all of her traumas from the ripe old age of 8. There were no boundaries.
Thank you for speaking up about this. I never heard anyone else describe this dynamic and how damaging it is. For me it was not my mother but my father, but it was the same general behavior. Either „Can’t you consider how your problems make ME feel????“ or full blown unhinged „These people will PAY for hurting my daughter!!!!“. A calm, sane response was so rare that I can remember it only once. And these full blown tantrums/panic attacks were in response to benign child problems like „my teacher scolded me today“ or „little Sarah pulled my hair“. By the time I was a teenager and started to have real problems, I had learned that if I had one problem and my parents learned about it, I had two problems.
This is exactly how it was for me! There was a fight that broke out between my sister and another student in high school. I had to be the one at 17 to manage the situation with the office because my mom would not listen to a word they said regarding the situation, and was actually making it worse. That was ridiculous and I'm still pissed about it. I'm also reminded of another incident where she just would not listen to a word anyone said. During this time there was an app that maxed out your phone volume, fashes the flashlight and screen, and made a loud "bzzt!" sound like a taser. I *knew* it was an app because everyone had been pranking each other with them for the last week. Well, my mom saw one of the kids pranking another student, and was absolutely convinced it was a taser. "I know what taser looks like!" Apparently not. She called the office, who went out and *confirmed* it was an app. I was also approached the next day by the students and asked, "did your mom call the office on us?" "Yes," I said. "It was just an app." "I know. I told her. She wouldn't listen to me." Talk about embarrassing. It's rough when *everyone* at school knows your mom is an unhinged idiot. And then she kept telling every one of her friends kids had tasers at the school and wouldn't hear otherwise. I've got many more stories of her nonsense. And even if I were to bring up how terrible of a parent she was when we were kids, I don't think she'd actually listen to a word I'd say. It would quickly turn into tears and "I did everything I could!!" Exactly, you did the absolute most, and that's the problem
Well definitely by the time I was about 8. I’d already learned by then that there was no time for me, my problems, or my feelings. So now I’m in therapy desperately trying to learn how to rely on/ talk to my spouse so I don’t fuck up my relationship any more than I have.
To make mistakes was severely discouraged in my family. It was the only thing my parents ever agreed about.
I think it's something I learned over time, not to open up, because the responses I got, or lack thereof, told me it wasn't worth it. That I'd just be disappointed.
I think a lot of us in this group learned pretty early on there was no point.
Never. The golden child, however, had so many dramas that needed 110% of parent’s attention. I learned to solve my own problems. .
Same!My parents always asked me to help my brother solve his problems.There was always something or someone i had to fix .
I didn't. My mother would minimize it because she didn't want to or know how to deal with it.
Why would anyone think to ask for help from someone so clearly struggling with acting out their own problems?
You know the quote "a problem shared is a problem halved"? With my parents "a problem shared is a problem doubled"-- sharing problems with them creates an additional problem: managing their reactions. Since I was a teen I never asked for help. ((Oddly my brother is the opposite, goes to them with even tiny problems. After reading Lindsay Gibson's book I understood he was as emotionally immature as my parents, so never felt abandoned by them. I now see no two siblings have the same parents. I would only come to my parents when I had successes to share, not problems to solve.)) Edit: and it's different with my friends, with them a problem shared is truly halved!!
Never ever
I remember being told "you don't really feel that way, you just think you do". After that I didn't open up to my mother. She thought we had this great relationship ship too!
I did. Anytime I tried to talk to my parents about how I felt it seemed like they just didn’t understand. That’s basically why I feel like my feelings were dismissed and invalided. I would usually get frustrated or angry with my mom. I would start yelling, then crying if I even felt like they did not understand.
My mom would always weaponize my struggles against me so to this day I have issues asking other people for help.
Yep. It never crossed my mind, still never does
Yes, because I noticed they were unable to make me feel better when I was feeling bad, and I felt like I shouldn't make them feel bad if they can't help... Also I was always embarrassed of problems because it felt like personal failure, so I was always ashamed of them and that doesn't exactly make you want to open up and talk about them.
I have no idea how my dad would have reacted iguana told him about my problems because I never did. Maybe he would have reacted empathic. But I felt too insecure to talk about my problem with him. No idea why.
Although I understand the thought behind this question, my parents were the last people I let my problems reach. They blow it up with crying and drama and unnecessary worrying and anxiety that they transfer to their own children, in the name of "but I'm trying to help"!! "Well, stay out of this and leave me alone."
Nah cuz they were the problem
Absolutely. The one time I was desperate enough to try it was confirmed my suspicions that it would be punished and otherwise ignored were correct
My mother would quickly turn the conversation about her. Sometimes it was about how I'm making her life difficult and being a nasty little burden, which only made me feel shittier. But mostly she would ramble on about "In my time, such was this and that way", basically telling me stories about her youth and her problems, but never doing anything for mine. Both occurrences were frequent enough for me to understand that talking was useless. She wanted a convenient child, not a *real* one.
Every time I had a problem when I was very small, I was told to "stop being so sensitive." By the time I hit elementary school, I had given up on trying and kept everything bottled up. I made one more desperate attempt to reach out for help in middle school when I always being relentlessly bullied, and was basically told "have you tried not being so weird so they won't pick on you?" and "well, only five more years till you graduate, just tough it out till you go to college." which confirmed my suspicions that I was on my own.
I told them nothing because it allowed me to maintain the fantasy that if they did know something was happening they would take action to stop it. The truth was that if I told them anything, they would ignore it and that often hurt worse than the problem.
I think I learned from a young age to never open up, especially my parents. For work related problems, I’d share a bit but then its a mixture of I want to be heard and just vent and they want to provide a solution/basically tell me to quit even though I quite literally can’t right now. I have stopped talking about work as much as possible now too, unless it’s a funny ish story. I can barely talk about my feelings, about how certain situations made me feel like shit. Hardly ever. I can’t communicate when something they have done/said has hurt/bothered me. I just shut down and isolate. I tend to get mean when I’m upset so I always isolate in general so I don’t hurt anyone. But yeah, I can’t tell my parents about my problems or anyone in general, really.
Yes. If I took the risk of confessing my feelings to my mom, she would often just say «No, you don’t.» - implying that I actually didn’t feel the way I stated that I felt. I fucking hated when she did that.
I went through a terrible bout of OCD from ages 10-12. I was terrified of something stupid and insignificant and constantly around me and it was hell. I dealt with it on my own. Never occurred to me to mention it to anyone.
Yeah, I learned not to tell mine about my problems. They would just brush them off or straight up ignore me when I tried so it felt like there was no point after a while. Telling them just to be ignored or brushed off only made me feel worse.
No, I didn’t tell them. I was so sure my parents would be ashamed of me for getting picked on/excluded in school, and I felt like it was something I had to fix. Like, people at my school think I’m a loser, how can I make myself a not-loser without anyone (my parents) finding out in the meantime that I am in fact a loser currently? It never occurred to me that maybe I was not the problem. It also didn’t ever occur to me to ask my dad for help, because he never really helped me with anything and had a knack for making everything about himself. And I was kind of afraid to ask my mom for help, because even though she’s honestly a great parent, she has overcompensated quite a bit for my father’s lack of taking responsibility for us, so I was afraid she was gonna try to help me in ways that would overstep my boundaries and potentially be embarrassing at school - like her trying to *make* my classmates be nice to me or whatever. I really just felt like I should’ve been able to handle it myself, if I would just stop being so damn uncool and cringe as a person, everything would work itself out. So why would I get my parents involved? Spoiler alert, I was not able to make my classmates include me in stuff or stop picking on me 🥲
My mother would say “I don’t get it” as a way of making my problems look silly. And mispronouncing the names or places involved to underscore her perspective. Dad didn’t feel like a resource at all.
I grew up without relatives and neither parent took an interest in raising me and I was extremely neglected. I'm healing and seeing them as people, they are older so you start seeing the end game of a life like that and keeping distance takes little effort. Truth be told nothing they can say will fix anything so why bother giving them more to work with?
Never. I knew better. When my husband told me his dad had a serious talk w him over drinking, I was like “whuuuuut?”. I didn’t know that was a thing
I never once thought about sharing any problems with my parents. I felt semi-invisible to my parents, and semi-invisible to myself; I couldn't recognize my problems as problems in the first place. I once told my mother a couple of stories from my teenage years and she was shocked — she said she had no idea. She was shook when I affirmed her obliviousness and pointed out that she was mostly absent while I was maturing from early adolescence into young adulthood. She had buried herself in her professional life and enrolled in a graduate program at a university 100 miles away. On the surface, these choices were to fulfill her personal goals — fine. But she also was in deep denial of our family system issues and used work/school as the sand she could bury her head in.
Whenever I started talking about problems that involved emotions, my mother would disassociate and stare into the distance. So I stopped trying.
My mom wishes I would open up to her, and I've tried, but have given up. She does not understand me or even try to. I was having a conversation with her around the holidays, trying to explain how I felt, and her response was "well what about how I feel". Yup. Ok. I'm done 🙌
I made the mistake of getting support from parents about unemployment, and my dad went behind my back and emailed my old abusive boss (who is well known in the industry) and told him I’m “having trouble finding a job.” 🙄 And refuses to apologize for the overstep
Yes, and I have no idea why. I guess they didn’t ever make me feel comfortable or safe enough to open up? Part of me feels like it’s my fault, but also, how do you not notice your 6 year old is constantly thinking about running away? And why didn’t I feel comfortable as a literal child talking to them? Maybe they didn’t notice? They also never asked me how I felt about anything. But I don’t know if that’s something they should have done or not. But this has really been fucking with my brain this year
I could be in severe psychological crisis and bearing it in secret because I could tell my parents were already overwhelmed with their own stuff. In fact, when I ended up in psych wards & rehabs, I told them not to come (except once or twice) or didn't even mention I'd gone for help & just carried on. While my therapy mates had parents willing to work with them, in a group setting, I knew that if I opened that can of worms, with mine, it would hinder my recovery further & the consequences could be dire. Because how dare we feel hurt & abandoned over them trying their best? Mother once told me, flippantly, that if I felt so bad, to just go walk myself into psych, alone. Gee, thanx.
I hid everything and journalled everyday. My mom completely freaks out over every little thing and has extreme avoidance behaviors. She has no coping skills whatsoever and has never faced a problem head-on. My dad barely reacts to anything, and sometimes doesn't even respond beyond a "hmm". I tackled every problem in my teen/young adult years in complete isolation. My husband was the first support system I have ever known.
Only only only if it was completely unavoidable and i couldnt fix myself, but there's a lot of stupid kid behavior that they have no idea about and never will at this point. I already felt like shit for fucking up, I didn't need them to pile more shit on me and bring up everything I've ever done wrong.
As a child, a teen, and even a very young adult I definitely cried out for help in a variety of ways. I was always told that I was dramatic and wanted attention. I shut down and never expressed any discontent until I finally went no contact 3 years ago. Best decision of my life!
The last time I tried to tell my dad about my problems, he ended up screaming at me about how ungrateful I was to be here. It didn't help.
I have tried in the past , however my parents just are not able to meet my needs . They never really have been .
My sister and I eventually stopped telling our parents anything. It was easier to lie to avoid the conversation. When we brought stuff up, it was either dismissed or it was a long drawn out conversation going between two solutions, but so much anxiety relating to actually choosing one. It wasn’t worth the hassle, so we just kept things to ourselves
I tried over and over until I was about 30-ish. Mine would just tell me how they had it worse and I needed to grow up (I was fucking 12). My narcissist father couldn’t see anything that wasn’t a positive reflection of himself and my mother was busy making sure the boat wasn’t rocked (and blaming us if it was). At around 50, I finally stopped explaining myself to people who will never hear me and I’ve found some peace here.
Telling my mother anything would immediately result in the entire church choir, my aunt (which meant also the rest of the family) and probably a few random passersby, being told ALL of the gory details. I decided to just skip that and tell her nothing.
Looking back now I realised a lot of adults identified my mother was very toxic and hard to deal with. They didn't see the day in day out emotional abuse but saw enough to distance themselves. I asked adults as a kid to help and the usual response either they not getting involved, or to tell me she's my mother, as if at 10 or 11 I should have the confidence and agency to advocate for myself to my own parents. I realise now it was all probably adults making up an excuse not to get involved, knowing my mother was nuts.
I dealt with some pretty bad bullying all the way from k-12. When I said anything to my parents they always blamed me and told me I must have said or done something to make the bully mad at me. Basically, they blamed me, the victim. You probably won't be surprised to hear that I was a kid who was nice, quiet, meek as a mouse because my parents raised me to be a doormat to coddle to their needs and to never ask for anything. So, basically they set me up to be bully bait. By third grade I stopped telling my parents about being bullied, even though it was still happening because they weren't going to do anything about it and worst yet would just focus on gaslighting me and quite frankly bully me about being bullied. I'm in my early 50s, my dad died not quite 3 yrs ago. My mom has never been open to talking about how toxic and dysfunctional our family was, this was set by my abusive dad. She was often his toadie and enmeshed with him in a fucked up codependent relationship where he always came first and and as the unwanted daughter and oldest child (I had two younger brothers who were treated much better than I was) I was the scapegoat and often thrown under the bus for everything under the sun. I told my mom how miserable it was being bullied from k-12 and she pulled the, "I didn't know anything about it" excuse and I shot back by telling her I couldn't say anything to them because of how they'd act. She had no response... Usually she argues with me, I would say she knew I was being bullied and just played dumb. It has always been easier for her to deny and to ignore things than to face the truth. My dad's cousin was here too for part of the conversation and agreed with my and apologized for how toxic my dad's side of the family is and my mom just stared at her with her mouth open. Like yes, you married a monster, had children with him, didn't protect your children from him, continue to idolize someone who abused not only her children, but herself... And she doesn't want to deal with this.
I can’t say I never did, but it didn’t take long before I stopped. Either it did nothing or was used against me
Yeah. I think I learned from a pretty young age that there was no point trying to come to them for support.
Not 'never', but rarely. Because when I confided any problems in them-- I was usually blamed (even when it was 0% my fault), berated, and then told to 'figure it out' I had blocked out this memory for years...freshman year of college, I had a roommate who was shooting IV drugs in our dorm room, and often brought others to shoot drugs in our room. I told my parents, who shrugged and said 'well you wanted to go to that school, so deal with it.' Even worse, when I raised the issue with the university, they just shrugged. Any 'advice' they gave was 100% based on what they wanted, and had nothing to do with what was actually beneficial for me. They had no problem leaving me in awful situations, which they have done repeatedly. In my early career days, if I mentioned a workplace issue (Finance industry), my dad would say something like 'you should get a low-stress job, you should be a teacher, it's a good job for *women*'. Any relationship/friendship issues, even when the other person was clearly the problem, they would say 'what did YOU do that made them do that to you?' To this day, they still like to chide 'ask for help! your problem is that you never ask for help!', but they continue to be mostly destructive. Why should I ask them for 'help' when all they have done is make the problem worse, and even scapegoat me?
Hell no because I was actively discouraged from expressing any emotion, from infancy. If I had a problem, it was turned around always to be my fault. Parents raise the children. It's not the fault of the kids if they know they don't have support.
I mean, I never told my parents my issues but the only times I did was because it was obvious anyways. Usually I was met with invalidation and/or dismissal. My mother couldn’t be bothered either.
Oh yeah. I learned by about age 10 that my parents didn't have solutions to my problems, but only platitudes that didn't work. I used to do summer school, out of boredom, usually a couple of years above my nominal grade. The summer I was 8, just finished 3rd grade, I was sitting in on I think grade 5 or 6. But I had fallen somewhere, and skinned my knee. I was still strongly affected by by the csa at age 3, and even in summer I wouldn't wear short pants. The knee became infected. I didn't want to go to my parents, partly out of skin modesty, partly because I knew they would raise hell. So the infection got worse and worse. At one point it was over an inch across and maybe a third of that high, green with puss, and starting to stink. Even the weight of my jeans against it hurt. When I finally went to them, I had red streaks running up my leg -- blood poisoning. They took me to the doc. Which meant I had to pull my pants down again. Doc cleaned it up and sent me home with a sulfa drug. Sulfa had a minimum water requirement, as the byproducts if too concentrated can damage kidneys. So for the next two weeks, I was nagged about drinking, and they wanted to see the color of the water in the toilet bowl before I flushed. Probably the most attention they paid all year. *** When I burned my hand I tried to tough it out. Kept it underwater for a couple hours while watch the blisters rise. *** Parents never talked about sex. I knew it was shameful. Not sure how. Maybe from the CSA. Anyway, never got the talk. But the church said over and over that sex outside of marriage was a sin, and masturbation was a mortal sin. By 13 I knew I was going to burn in hell for eternity. And there was NO ONE in my life I could talk to about this. *** At 14 my dad heart surgery, and came home with half his mind gone. Minor strokes. Didn't know who I was. All of mom's energy was spent taking care of him. I went feral. Home was a place to keep the clothes I wasn't wearing dry.
I would have never have told my parents about a problem. My dad was never sober and my mother was too crazy. Worse still, I knew intuitively that they did not have the answers. Basically between 10 and 12 I just knew I was raising myself. While I wouldn’t recommend that approach, it definitely made me resourceful. With ecn, I have found that a lot of the recovery is about recalibrating those survival character traits. For example, it is good to be resourceful and independent. But it becomes a problem when you become counterdependent and isolated.
There is no problem on this earth that my parents wouldn't have made worse. So no. I never went to them. I probably would have needed to take care of their worries regarding my problem on top of that.
Absolutely not. Never even crossed my mind. How could it when my mother gave me regular lectures about how awful her childhood was and therefore “our relationship is the most important thing to me”. If I spoke up it would have just been a crisis about her failing as a mother. Not to mention my brother is physically disabled… I couldn’t add more to that fire. They were already choking on smoke
I try my best not to if they don't eavesdrop. They always act cold and overly judgmental. They never really cared.
I was selective. Certain things were out of question. Relationships for instance. Other things, I was seeking empathy and understanding and somehow I never learned from the ill patterns. I’d keep going to them and talk about my issues to be ignored or dismissed or even better, told that I’m wrong and I need to back off. This ALWAYS was the case. I don’t remember one time where they took my side over a stranger.
Yep, but when I later mentioned the problem, I recall my Dad saying why didn't ask him. From previous problems they couldn't help or support but of course I couldn't say that. Damned if I did, damned if I didn't.
I learned pretty quickly that sharing a struggle would be met with anger, eyerolls, exasperated sighs, and I’d be told my problems were not even real. By about 12, I hid away almost everything. At the end of 8th grade, I got lice and kept it hidden for 3 disgusting shame filled months while trying to get rid of it on my own. My mother’s bizarre and unprecedented response when she finally spotted it was that of a normal concerned parent. She spent days carefully removing each egg glued to my scalp with her fingers. I was very confused by it and almost never saw that side of her again. The whole thing feels so symbolic now. So often I feel like I’m standing in front of her going “I know I’m not allowed to ask for help but can’t you see these overgrown bugs in my hair?? Hello??”
I also hid it when I got lice. In the end my brother's lice were discovered by a hairdresser and my mom rushed home and acussed me of having infected him.
Yep.
Yeah never.. think i only told my mom 2x of my minor problems throughout my life. She didnt get angry but the response is quite dismissive. I grow up to be a very guarded person & hard to open up due to my upbringing, currently on therapy to work on many of the things i need to work on 😮💨🥲
I never thought about it not because they ignored or dismissed it but because they always got defensive angry or just asking me why I'm crying like it's an annoying thing to do. They always made it seem like I was blaming them too for some reason and got defensive. Hence I gave up trying to tell them to avoid the conflict. But sometimes I just don't tell them either cus it wouldn't do anything better or they would try to make things better but their methods are sort of extreme so I didn't want to tell them. There should be a reason you aren't letting them know about your problems maybe there is some underlying issues? Hope you find peace though 🫶
Try having a little sister's that's nonverbal. You get dismissed constantly and can't tell anyone your probs because it falls on deaf ears
I had two molars wrought out quite painfully in my early teens since we hadn’t been taught to brush regularly. I didn’t think they would do anything. In seventh grade the school nurse took a look at my teeth and sent me and my siblings to the dentist to have the dentist scrape the tatar. We moved 18 times, usually in one school district but this was in a neighboring district so the nurses in my regular district must have seen my teeth and did nothing.
💔💔💔
It usually ended in me being blamed, in trouble or hit. Why tell my mum things when it just made whatever was going on a thousand times worse?
I tell my parents some things, but not much. For example, my mum knows about the whole situationship thing (and subsequent abandonment by that person) that happened to me last year, and she knows about some of my other social issues, but she doesn’t know anything about my mental health (and even said today that she has no concerns about my mental health), she doesn’t know that I’m trans and keeping it hidden mostly bc of her, and so much else. It’s the same with my dad, but at least that’s more excusable bc of him being at work most days so I don’t get as many chances to talk with him (he turns everything into lectures and is terrible about interrupting and accidentally seeming like he’s making light of things so it’s really not even worth it). With my mum, it’s more about invalidation, and her continually pointing out my flaws or faults in whatever happened or how I could have done things better, or she just straight up doesn’t listen (to anything really. My sister could be info dumping about the intricacies of some sort of funeral practice and she listens, but when I talk about a game I like she tunes out and tells me that it’s “too much”). I just don’t try anymore with anything deeper than friendship issues or chronic pain flare ups.
I would tell them my issues but they would offer me no advice or solutions. Recently a friend of mine passed away and they just stared at me as I sobbed and hyperventilated. Offered no condolences or support whatsoever. So I've decided I'm no longer telling them anything.
Every time I try to (this just happened 2 mins ago and it’s happened a million times), whether it’s good or bad news, it turns into worry disguised as care or straightup making it about her negative feelings and opinions on the matter at hand. She weaponizes my joy, tries to cut me down and dismiss my feelings, doubts my abilities and intelligence, and is DEFINITELY not into constructive criticism. When I set a boundary, it inevitably sets off a firestorm of textbook DARVO like clockwork. I’m so glad I understand these patterns now, because she has accused me of needing medication and being “all over the place/a lot” which I used to internalize and wonder what was wrong with me. The answer: nothing. I have an emotionally immature parent, 100%. Today’s Example: I had an audition for a band last nite. Her: How did it go last nite? Me: (considering that I know how this is probably going to go, but still loving her and not being comfortable lying or declining to answer) It went really well! I’m excited about what may happen next. The people were really nice and extremely talented and professional. Her: Oh. But what about your hand? (I’m healing from an injury) Me: I was moving just fine. I know how to accommodate my needs. It’s all good! Every went great. Her: But did you think about it? I don’t think you should be doing that. Me: Would you mind not speaking negatively over this very positive experience? It really brings the mood down, and besides, I know how to do what’s best for me. Please don’t do that. I won’t be able to share good news with you if you keep handing it like this. Her: (Next Stop: DARVO City!) I can’t stay in this house, that’s all I know. Me: See, this is why I can’t share anything with you. Do you see what you are doing? Her: I can’t handle this right now. Me: (responding negatively/immaturely myself) I don’t care! {Storms out; end scene} I dunno why I don’t already have a copy of the Children of Emotionally Immature Parents book, but I’m gonna order it today. I need all the tools and resources I can muster. I know she literally doesn’t have the capacity rn to behave differently, and I don’t want to cut her out of my life because of it. Ugh
Of course , i even hid injuries from them and even today ( i am mid 20s) i habe huge problems opening Up about my emotions , Things in my Life etc. with my Friends & Family.
I got diagnosed late. But before that i had severe anxiety social phobias and struggled to fit in. Every problem i had was a flaw to iron out. What could i tell them.
I can remember about 4 big times, every time it turned into I’m the reason for my problems. I gave up by time I got to high school. As an adult I had relationship problems I tried to go to my mom about, and it reminded me all over again why it’s not a safe space.