child of neglect

People just want abuse victims that are soft and kind and gentle, the kind of victims who validate their beliefs that “everything happens for a reason”. It doesn’t occur to these people that abuse actually damages people, that it could turn victims bitter and resentful rather than into poster-children for resilience and inner-strength. Victims don’t just exist to pay homage to your worldview that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” as if abuse could ever be a positive or an experience to be grateful for. 

If you've been abused, remember:

•It was not your fault, it’s never your fault.
•No one deserves abuse, nothing justifies it.
•When people/abusers say you could’ve acted differently so they wouldn’t “have to do that”– that is wrong. You didn’t push them to do that.
•They’re projecting their issues and anger onto you.
•It’s okay to feel weak, and defeated. You don’t always have to be strong.
•People may stigmatize your situation– refuse to believe you, downplay it, call you overly sensitive. They don’t know the reality, you do.
•If it hurts you, it hurts you. It’s valid. People should respect that, and good people do.
•Trust your gut. If things feel fishy and someone seems to be toxic, you’re probably right.
•You’re worth so much more than you know.

Let’s play, “was I abused” game! Reblog and bold the things your parents have done to you! Italicize if you’re not sure. (copy paste it all and then bold)

Physical abuse

  • parent slapped me to prove their point/teach me a lesson
  • parent spanked me as a “punishment” saying it was for my own good
  • parent pulled on my hair to force me to move
  • parent threw things at me while angry, things heavy enough to hurt me
  • parent trapped me into a room/corner so I couldn’t escape them
  • parent hit me when I wouldn’t obey them/tried to confront them
  • parent used a twig/stick/belt to lash at my body
  • parent grabbed me to force me to pay attention to them
  • parent pinned me down and physically prevented me from escaping
  • parent brought me into situations where I feared for my life
  • parent made it painfully obvious for me that I’ll obey them or suffer injuries
  • parent threatened to beat me if I wouldn’t do as they say
  • parent forcefully fed me something I refused to eat 
  • parent made an attempt at strangling/drowning/burning me
  • parent banged my head/body into the wall/furniture
  • parent forced me into sexual activities

Emotional abuse

  • parent called me derogatory names and slurs more than once
  • parent said my name mostly with hatred and scorn in their voice
  • parent degraded and humiliated me in front of others for fun
  • parent insulted and devalued something really important to me
  • parent deprived me of something that meant the world to me
  • parent yelled and swore at me in anger more than once
  • parent blamed me for things that were out of my control/not my fault
  • parent shamed me for my physical appearance
  • parent guilt-tripped me for not pleasing them well enough
  • parent regarded me as a burden, and shamed me for needing them at all
  • parent insisted I couldn’t take a joke after I got hurt from their insults
  • parent never comforted me/got angry if I reached for comfort
  • parent punished me for crying/showing fear/showing trauma symptoms
  • parent humiliated me for showing excitement and happiness
  • parent subtly let me know that my feelings and my problems don’t matter
  • parent got angry at me for feeling depressed/angry/tired/suicidal
  • parent blamed me for feeling depressed/angry/tired/suicidal
  • parent compared me to cousins/other children to prove how I’m the worst
  • parent decided for me how I feel when it was convenient for them
  • parent told me that I was crazy/delusional/need to be locked away
  • parent threatened me with kicking me out/sending away if I don’t change
  • parent refused to accept my sexuality/tried to force it to change
  • parent required for me to act normal to protect family’s reputation
  • parent isolated me from family activities they all enjoy
  • parent assured me that nobody will ever want me 
  • parent insisted that I was lucky and that I could have had it much worse
  • parent made me responsible for their well being and made me the caretaker
  • parent insisted that their harmful acts were all made “out of love”
  • parent demanded me to be available for their requests at any time
  • parent punished me for trying to establish boundaries
  • parent destroyed my belongings as a revenge
  • parent made inappropriate sex jokes and comments in my presence
  • parent denied doing any of this and insists that all the blame is on me

Psychological Abuse

  • parent kept pointing out my flaws as proofs that I wont achieve anything
  • parent called me stupid, incompetent, ignorant, while withholding information that I needed to know in order to complete tasks
  • parent would change their side of the agreement in crucial moment and then pretend it was obvious from the start
  • parent stalked me/distrusted me without any reason/invaded my privacy
  • parent attacked my insecurities and vulnerabilities in any argument
  • parent forced me into degrading actions while they watched me do it 
  • parent threatened to leave me
  • parent accused me regularly of behaving the way they did
  • parent never acknowledged, praised or approved of my actions
  • parent always demanded they are right without any proof/explanation
  • parent insisted that they’re a great parent using financial support as proof
  • parent insisted that I should be grateful for how good they are to me
  • parent gaslighted me and tried to make me believe my memories weren’t real if I confronted them with what they did

Neglect

  • parent didn’t notice I haven’t been eating properly
  • parent didn’t notice I was sick/didn’t care for me while I was sick
  • parent didn’t notice I was injured
  • parent didn’t notice I didn’t have clothes/shoes I needed for school
  • parent didn’t notice I suffered from trauma 
  • parent didn’t notice I was anxious and stressed
  • parent didn’t notice I was depressed
  • parent didn’t notice I was cutting myself
  • parent didn’t notice I was suicidal
  • parent didn’t notice I was being sexually abused
  • parent didn’t notice I was being bullied
  • parent failed to get me medical attention when it was needed
  • parent failed to teach me the very basics of self care
  • parent didn’t seem to notice any of my needs and feelings except the absolute minimum I required to survive
  • when I notified them of these things, they denied it, accused me of lying, decided it wasn’t happening and/or blamed me for it

Financial Abuse

  • parent made me feel ashamed for needing money
  • parent made me feel like I’m a financial burden to them
  • parent only gave me minimal money to survive 
  • parent made sure I never have a decent amount of money on me
  • parent took the money I earned from me
  • parent used the money to blackmail me (if you continue this way let’s see who will pay for your bus ticket!)
  • parent insisted since they “pay for my stuff” they have the right to control my behaviour and actions
  • parent had enough money for luxury but kept me without anything
  • parent refused to get my medicine/get me medical attention because it’s too expensive while they got everything for themselves
  • parent would keep me anxious over if they would pay my expenses or not
  • parent would make me do as much work for them as possible before they would pay for a necessity
  • parent kept me in the dark over family finances even when I was of age
  • parent would make sure I never have enough money to escape them

If you bold more than 5 things, you have been through abuse. For some particular ones, even one true thing on this list means you’ve been badly harmed by your parents. Also this list is not complete, there are many more abusive behaviours not listed here, feel free to add!

That awkward moment when you realize as a result of being emotionally neglected and abused as a child you never learned how to vocalize “what’s wrong” because no one ever cared enough to ask…
Or when they did they didn’t take the time to understand, or used it against you to bully you, invalidating your experience and minimizing your feelings labeling you “too sensitive” so as an adult you keep everything inside to the detriment of your own mental health and relationships 🙃🙃🙃

Shout out to all the people who are having Mother’s Day shoved in their faces even though their mothers were abusive, neglectful, or absent. I know it feels like everyone is forgetting you or leaving you behind, but please know that you’re not alone, and you have every right to hate or ignore this holiday.

Exercise: Assessing Your Parent’s Emotional Immaturity

Read through the following statements and check any that describe your parent. Since all these items are potential signs of emotional immaturity, checking more than one suggests you very well may have been dealing with an emotionally immature parent.

  • My parent often overreacted to relatively minor things.
  • My parent didn’t express much empathy or emotional awareness.
  • When it came to emotional closeness and feelings, my parent seemed uncomfortable and didn’t go there.
  • My parent was often irritated by individual differences or different points of view.
  • When I was growing up, my parent used me as a confidant but wasn’t a confidant for me.
  • My parent often said and did things without thinking about people’s feelings.
  • I didn’t get much attention or sympathy from my parent, except maybe when I was really sick.
  • My parent was inconsistent - sometimes wise, sometimes unreasonable.
  • If I became upset, my parent either said something superficial and unhelpful or got angry and sarcastic.
  • Conversations mostly centered on my parent’s interests.
  • Even polite disagreement could make my parent very defensive.
  • It was deflating to tell my parent about my successes because it didn’t seem to matter.
  • Facts and logic were no match for my parent’s opinions.
  • My parent wasn’t self-reflective and rarely looked at their role in a problem.
  • My parent tended to be a black-and-white thinker, and unreceptive to new ideas.

-Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson

If you have a complicated relationship with your mother because of abuse or neglect, you don’t have to feel guilty regardless of how much or how little you choose to interact with her.

I know there’s a lot of pressure to acknowledge her even if she’s hurt you badly. If you choose to (or wish you could) keep your distance or even end your relationship with her, you’re not a bad child or ungrateful or mean.

If for any reason you do something nice for her, that doesn’t mean you give up your right to be angry or hurt by what she did before that. It doesn’t mean you give up your right to keep your distance or even end your relationship with her later on.

You don’t owe her. But it’s complicated sometimes, I understand. Just do your best to be gentle with yourself, and try to remember that you didn’t deserve what happened. You have always deserved care and respect.

signs that your family is abusive:

  • you feel the urge to hide from them whenever you’re vulnerable
  • you cannot bear the idea of them seeing you cry
  • when you’re hurt or in pain, you don’t go to them because you feel they’ll tell you that you deserved it or that it was your fault
  • you don’t feel like you can confide in them, either because they don’t seem to care, or try to control how you act, or yell at you and punish you, or use the information against you
  • you feel very self-conscious around them and keep expecting criticism and insults
  • you can’t tell them about your struggles because you already know they’ll side against you
  • you keep things in your life secret from them because you have a feeling they would ridicule, humiliate, and judge you if they knew, or take everything away from you
  • you feel scared of letting them know when they hurt you
  • you feel scared and guilty when you so much as think about them in a bad way
  • you feel the urge to remind yourself of all the things they did for you, whenever something bad comes up, to be sure that you’re seeing them the way they want to be seen by you
  • you’re scared of being accused of being a burden to them
  • you’re scared to hold them responsible for things they did to you, because you know they would argue otherwise, and insist they had full right to do what they did, or that you made it up
  • you have the inner sense of dread that nothing you ever do or say will be taken seriously by them, and your life will always look like a joke to them
  • you dream of living far away from them and feel guilty for wanting to cut them from your life
  • you don’t feel like you’re really important in comparison to them, it feels like it’s better to just step aside and let them be important, your life doesn’t matter as much anyway
  • you’re worried about how your every action might affect their life, their reputation and social standing
  • you feel that they’re ashamed of you and you’re trying your best not to bring further shame on the family
  • you feel like you’ll owe them for the rest of your life and nothing you ever do will be enough to erase the debt, and this fills you with dread and feeling of being trapped
  • you don’t count on their help when you’re in trouble, you’re scared of them finding out and punishing you for being in trouble in the first place
  • you don’t count on them sharing their resources with you, you know you have to be grateful for how much they’ve given you already and feel like you have no right to ask for anything more, even if you need it
  • you can’t feel warmth or safety when surrounded by family, instead you wish you didn’t have to be there, and seek a place to hide and protect yourself
  • holidays spent with family are just painful and something you try to endure instead of enjoy
  • you can’t imagine a world where you’re free and not defined by these people

I wonder how much of that classic sense of, “I can have high expectations for how other people are treated, but view myself as trash,” comes from getting a lot of one’s basic lessons in love and empathy from books instead of peers

Like, I had almost no friends as a child, so I sat alone at recess, not playing with other children or being treated as worthwhile or interesting. The part of my brain that was supposed to encode my own personal experiences of being loved and treated well grew cobwebs while I was around other kids. So I brought library books out onto the playground with me.

Books saved me—books taught me that there were worthwhile friendships out there, and what they were like. I could tell when the characters deserved better. Books were like an author bottling up love and attention for me so I could open it up when I needed it. So I was kept entertained and learned what they looked like for other people.

But that didn’t change my own circumstances. Reading about someone being comforted when they were sad was very different than feeling someone else’s arms around me when I was crying. No matter how fiercely I wanted my life to be like the books I read, it wasn’t.

So I learned: There is a reality of love and care for other people, and there is a reality of loneliness and sorrow for me.

So no wonder I had a double standard for a lot of things in my life. My education in love was strictly bifurcated, and the important dividing line was whether a scenario included me, personally.

If true, this has all kinds of implications when it comes to treating the lonely love-starved bookworm, so I wonder.

the-queen-sees-all  asked:

I was wondering, what if Harry and Hermione had met before Hogwarts?

The first time Harry Potter met Hermione Granger, she was standing with her chin up and her hands on her hips a few paces from the old olive tree in the schoolyard, glaring into the far distance. The wind was trying to twist and buffet her hair into her face, but mostly it was just tangling cheerfully with itself.

Dudley and Piers were busy kicking all the other kids off the play structure, so Harry had retreated out into the grass. He stood a safe distance from the weird girl who was pretending to be a statue and thought wistfully of lunch.

“There’s a fallen bird’s nest,” the girl said in a rapid and certain tumble of syllables. “The boys knocked it out of the tree, but I chased them off and I’m hoping the mama bird comes back. I’m Hermione Granger. We just moved here.”

“Harry,” he said.

“How’d you get that scar?” she said.

“Car accident.”

“That’s a weird scar for a car accident.”

Harry shrugged. “It killed my parents.”

She blinked quickly at him and even at that distance he wished vaguely that she wore glasses, too, because her gaze was something that really felt like it should have some built-in bluntedness. “Mine are dentists. Mum’s taking me to the library after school, want to come?”

-

Before they went into Diagon Alley, Harry asked Hagrid if they could find a payphone. Hermione picked up on the first ring.

“Harry! Where have you been? I’ve been trying and trying to call–”

“Sorry, yeah. Um, so, I’m not coming back to school next year, I…” Harry drifted off, staring at Hagrid’s massive moleskin shoulders. The giant man saw him looking and gave him a tentatively cheerful little wave. “It’s been weird, Herm.” He pressed his forehead into the phone stand, but not too hard. “I think you’re the only thing I’m really going to miss.”

“Harry,” Hermione said and Harry started to frown, because that wasn’t her stern and startled voice. That was the voice that meant she was off down a charging war path of other thought and might not have heard him at all. “I’ve been reading.”

“Of course you’ve been reading,” he said. “I’ve been being forcibly hidden from a swarm of post office owls–”

“You’re in books,” she said in breathless delight, squeaking over the telephone line. “First thing we did, of course, after the professor explained, was get her to escort us to a bookstore– a whole bibliography, Harry, a whole world’s bibliography I haven’t even touched– how am I ever going to–” She took in a little calming breath, and murmured, “Different infinities, it’s okay, Hermione, okay.” A sharp exhale and then she tumbled right back into her rushing rivelet of a sentence. “And I picked up a good dozen, besides the school books, of course, and Harry, you’re in books, in Dark Wizardwork of This Century and A Modern Wizards’ History and October’s End: A Biography–”

“Hermione,” said Harry with slow enunciation. “Are you a wizard, too?”

“A witch, I think,” she said. “But I’m still reading up on the sociology of it all.”

-

Hagrid wouldn’t say Voldemort’s name, but Hermione would. She came over with a stack of books up to her chin, gave the Dursleys her normal pointed little stare that said she’d like to set them a little on fire, and curled up in his cupboard with him.

He supposed she probably could learn how to set them on fire, now, if she really wanted to.

She gave him passages and excerpts with his name in them, with his parents’ names, a home he hadn’t known. There were pictures of a ruined house with the smoke drifting in little curls of ink. There was his mother, smiling and waving in black and white. There was his mother, laid out on the floor, with a sober little caption below it. That picture was still, except for curtains fluttering in the window.

Hermione finally dragged her face far enough up from the pages to see Harry holding his own hand very tightly, and then she closed the book and reached for one about which magical creatures you should pet and which you shouldn’t.

“Sorry,” she said.

“I wanted to know.”

“I’m still sorry.”

-

The Grangers drove Harry, Hermione, Hedwig, and their trunks to King’s Cross Station. Mrs. Granger kissed the top of Hermione’s head while Mr. Granger mussed Harry’s mop of dark hair affectionately, and then they swapped children and repeated the treatment. Hermione pushed her hair back out of her face and marched them all to Platform 9 ¾, the entrance mechanism of which she had read all about.

“Before you go,” Mrs. Granger said, “let’s buy you some sandwiches? I don’t know what sort of food they’ll have past that–”

“There’s a trolley,” Hermione said, but her parents dragged them off to a snack kiosk anyway, Harry happily in tow.

As they were on Hermione’s tight schedule, there were plenty of compartments open, and they took one all to themselves– well, to themselves, Hedwig, and Hermione’s books, which took up two seats. (Harry would wheedle Hagrid into taking him to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping that year, where he would get Hermione a carry-all bag for her small personal library.)

Hermione took a long preparatory breath while Harry unwrapped his sandwich. “Harry? What if I go and sit down under the Hat and I just sit and sit there, and then it says I’m not a witch at all?” Hermione said, the words getting more squashed together and higher-pitched as she went. “I’m not magic, it just got confused, and they send me home? Harry, I don’t want to be a dentist. Other people’s mouths are disgusting–”

“You’re not going to get kicked out,” Harry said, chewing amiably on his sandwich. It was not good, but the Dursleys hadn’t bothered with any breakfast for him and he hadn’t wanted to bother the Grangers about it either. It was a bit dry on the way down, but it settled warmly in his belly.

“But what if I do?”

“I’ll stage a protest,” said Harry. “Refuse to do my homework til they reinstate you.”

“You’re not going to do your homework anyway.”

“See how dedicated I am to you.”

She made a dismissive little noise at him, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Hermione,” he said, and she lifted her bush of hair to look at him. “You’re the most magical person I know. It’s gonna be alright.”

She gave a long slow blink but whatever she might have said was interrupted by an uneven knock at the door. “Um,” said the pudgy boy standing there. “I’ve lost my toad.”

Hermione leapt to her feet. “Where did you see him last?”

Harry followed in the wake of her forward charge, but he brought the rest of his sandwich with him.

-

(Harry did not know this and would not know this until Mrs. Granger mentioned it casually over a Christmas dinner years and years later– but she and Mr. Granger reported the Dursleys for child abuse and neglect, over and over.

The reports got lost– minds scrubbed down, papers vanished– but they kept calling in reports. They considered kidnapping. They couldn’t imagine why the wizarding world might want to keep their chosen one somewhere so toxic, why they might want to keep this underfed child and his messy hair with those people.

“My mother left me a blood protection spell,” said Harry, whose scar had not ached in years. He poked at his mashed potatoes under the focused attention of Mrs. Granger’s stern little forehead wrinkle. “I had to live with family, blood family.”

“Then they should have made them treat you right,” Mrs. Granger said, as though it was that simple.

Mr. Granger gave Harry another helping of peas.)

-

On the steps of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy thrust out his hand to the Boy Who Lived, who surveyed the open palm with amusement. “Thanks,” said Harry. “But I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself.”

The redheaded, freckly, hand-me-down clothes boy Malfoy had been bothering snorted. Harry slipped his hands into his pockets.

“You’re the kid with the rat from the train,” Hermione said. “And the spell that didn’t work.”

“It was a cool rhyme anyway, though,” Harry said. “Hi, I’m Harry, this is Hermione.”

“Yeah, she said, then. I’m Ron– uh, Ron Weasley.”

“Yeah, he said,” Harry said, rolling his eyes Malfoy’s direction. “Come on, you wanna stand with us? Hermione will tell you about the ceiling.”

“It’s enchanted!” said Hermione.

-

When Hermione founded SPHEW, Harry was not surprised. He had spent too many schoolyard days escorting spiders to safe spaces, keeping vigil over fallen bird’s nests, and watching Hermione stand up on her desk chair in heated pitched verbal battles with teachers. She’d driven at least two teachers to tears and taught most of them at least a few new vocabulary words.

-

Over summers and holidays, Harry and Hermione took Ron to the movies, to the seashore, to Hermione’s top three favorite libraries. Hermione’s Aunt Meg taught them how to whittle under a cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to Harry’s hair until he washed it out.

In this life, there were things in the Muggle world that Harry missed, that he wanted to see again. He loved Hogwarts, and he nominally went home to the Dursleys each summer, but he knew he always had a bed at the Grangers’. He knew the weird system they used to organize the books on their shelves. He’d pass Mrs. Granger the marmalade in mornings before she had to ask. He got free dental check-ups all his life, which was good because the Dursleys rarely bothered taking him into the dentist.

The whole Granger family tore apart newspapers every morning, calling article excerpts across the table and pointing each other to their favorite journalists. Before Hermione even first stepped onto Hogwarts grounds she got a subscription to the Daily Prophet. During Harry’s fourth year, Mr. and Mrs. Granger got Arthur Weasley to buy them an owl and then began an unending campaign of furious letters to the editor that never got published.

-

In a crumbling boat shed, Severus Snape died, but first he pressed a shining bundle of memory into Harry’s hands.

The fight was still going– Neville newly broad and certain; Luna whipping out quiet, barbed little curses; Ginny charging like an army in and of herself. Hermione had her arms full of basilisk fangs. Ron was moving people like bishops and knights. But Harry had a long damp walk before him, so he had time to wade through that life not his own.

Severus had been a lot of things– one of them was in love. Harry dragged his feet through forest mulch, seeing a little redheaded girl in sunlight, hands not his own offering her transformed flowers. It had been just them for so long. For Severus, for so long, there had been no one but him and Lily.

Even in Hogwarts, Severus had drifted through the classrooms and common room and library. He had believed in magic, in the cool slide of good knives through dried roots, and in Lily– always, always in Lily– Lily in sunlight, Lily chewing on her thumbnail over Transfiguration homework, Lily flicking soapsuds at him in her kitchen at home over summer, Lily pig-tailed and seven, wide-eyed as he showed her the first magic she’d ever seen, a leaf to a flower, a bit of sunlight to a bit of fire.

He had loved, and it had been a real thing. He had fucked up, and it had been a real thing, that heartbreak, that regret.

When Harry turned the Stone in his hand and saw his mother step into pseudo-life in that forest clearing, he thought I wish I’d known you. He thought about how she was in sepia and gray, here, just like in the pictures in the pages of Hermione’s books.

But he was also thinking about Severus. He was remembering Lily in sunlight, remembering her walking away, remembering her in that same cold photographed sprawl but in color–in grief–in bruised knees and heaving gasps.

Severus had been the first to find Lily’s body and it had felt like someone had cut the sunlight out of him. Harry was living through that grief, but he was also living through the wail of the child crying unacknowledged. His tiny pudgy hands were wrapped around the guardrail of his crib.

Harry was thinking about a girl standing in a field like a statue, hands on hips. He was thinking about Hermione’s raised hand ignored in Potions, or the way Snape had sneered that he didn’t see a difference in her cursed teeth. Love had made him brave, perhaps. It had killed him, but it had not made Severus good.

Harry wondered if his mother would have escorted spiders to safe places, if she would have stood guard over fallen bird’s nests, if she had worried herself to pieces that first time on the Hogwarts Express about the Hat telling her she didn’t really belong.

“I wish I’d known you,” he told the specter of Lily Potter. He held his own hands tight.

For Harry, for so long, there had been no one but him and Hermione. Even in Hogwarts, there were things only she would understand– parking meters, the cobweb ceiling of his cupboard, the silence of marmalade at breakfast. Harry believed in magic and he believed Hermione Granger was the most magical thing he knew.

“They’ll be alright,” he said. “I’ll be alright. I was alright, mum. I wish I’d known you– but I wasn’t alone.” He squeezed his hands tighter– Hermione showing him her favorite spots in her favorite libraries; Ron shyly showing them the Burrow like it was anything less than a magnificent masterpiece of warm rooms and patchwork architecture; Hermione standing in the field like a statue, bushy-haired and seven years old, jaw set. “She wasn’t alone, either,” he said. “And she’ll be alright. Ron will be alright. I have to do this, don’t I?”

“We are so proud of you,” Lily said.

“Thanks,” said Harry. “Sorry,” said Harry, and wondered if Hermione was going to be able to read the little passages and excerpts with his name in them, with those un-moving pictures and the sober captions underneath.

He dropped the Stone.

-

When Harry Potter died for the first time, crumpled in forest mulch, he didn’t go to a squeaky clean King’s Cross Station. There were no crescent moon glasses to twinkle kindly at him.

He stood under an old olive tree and a little girl looked up at him with those eyes that needed shielding, needed blunting, needed a manufacturer’s warning. “A wind’s coming,” she said. “You can just go. It will be easy.”

He stood outside Diagon Alley, a Muggle payphone tucked between his shoulder and ear. “You’re in books,” she said, with a breathlessness he’d barely heard for years. There had been too much weight on his shoulders, on hers. “You’re done,” she said. “You’ve done enough. Go on, tap three bricks up and two to the left.”

He stood in Godric’s Hollow, in the snow, holding her hand, looking at the ruined house. “You should have had this,” she said. She was seven and small, not nineteen and weary like she had been in life. The sky was overcast but there was sunlight glinting in her hair. “You can still have this. You can have everything.”

“You’re not real,” Harry said.

“But you are,” she said. “There’s a wind coming. It will be easy.”

“You’ve never done anything easy in your life,” he said.

She took both his hands– hers were so small against his grown fingers, his broad palms, and how had they done everything with hands that small? Basilisks and werewolves; shouting down teachers from atop desk chairs.

Harry was sitting in his cupboard in the light of its single bulb and he was too big for this space, his shoulders curling forward, his head bowing. She was standing there with sunlight still in her hair and her arms piled high with books. “You don’t belong here,” she said. “It will hurt. You won’t fit, if you go back. Everything can be easy. Everything can be fine. It doesn’t have to hurt, ever again.”

“Hermione,” he said and leaned forward, put his hands on her hands where they were gripping her books. “It’ll be alright.” He smiled and she was staring at him with those eyes, those goddamn eyes. “We never fit, remember?”

“We tried,” she said and Harry squeezed her small hands gently.

“Send me back,” he said. “I want to go home.”

-

After the battle, as Hogwarts rang with frantic healing, crushing grief, and raging celebration, the three of them retreated to the library. Hermione hauled them down narrow aisles until she found her favorite tucked-away nook and they all collapsed on sagging sofas that seemed to not have been touched at all by the war.

“Well,” said Hermione. “What now?”

Ron let his head flop back against the seat, hair tumbling all over his pale forehead. “I’m going to nap,” he said. “For a month.”

“That’s not physiologically possible,” said Hermione. “Or if it is, then it’d be a coma.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Ron said, then: “no, wait, a hyperbole.” Hermione beamed at him. He blushed a little and elbowed her gently.

“After this, you’ll be in books, you know,” Harry told her.

“Not– I mean–” Hermione rubbed at her nose furiously. Ron laughed enough to wake up and sit up, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

While Ron came up with outlandish titles for Hermione’s eventual many biographies, Harry pulled his feet up onto the sofa. He watched the candles float quietly between the shelves.

Unpopular opinion, but when I read those ‘I regret having kids post, ’ my mind immediately goes to the kids, and I’m hoping that these parents aren’t letting their regret get in the way of raising healthy children.

Like…I can’t feel bad for you if you chose to have your children when you weren’t ready, but I can feel bad for the kid. Because I’ve just seen too many children hated by their parents because their parents regret having them, I’ve heard too many horror stories of abuse due to regretful parents.

I just don’t feel bad for the parents anymore, I did at a point, but  my heart just goes out to the innocent kids, because there are far too many kids who are victims of parents who regretted having them.

Like from personal experience, I feel for kids.

2

A gym in California on the 1st of December, 2008, was the scene of survival. As customers were preparing to work out, a boy came crashing through the front doors. He was wearing a pair of grey boxers and a chain around his ankle. He was extremely emaciated and covered in caked in blood and dirt. “Please hide me” he exclaimed. The boy was 16-year-old Kyle Ramirez. Standing at 5 foot 8 inches, he weighed just 100 pounds.

When Kyle was 8-years-old, he was abandoned by his biological mother and left in the care of a family friend, Caren Ramirez. A handwritten note from his biological mother granted custody to Ramirez and CPS agreed without even conducting a legally required investigation. Over the forthcoming years, CPS received numerous reports of abuse and neglect. Kyle was emaciated and showed up to school with no food and riddled in bruises and patches of hair missing.

In 2005, Kyle’s brother was placed into protective custody. His brother told CPS that Kyle was being being abused too but he wouldn’t be removed from the household until 2007. A couple of months later, Caren coerced Kyle into escaping from protective custody and return to her to which he complied. This is where the abuse escalated tremendously. For the next 18 months, Carmen and three of her friends, Anthony Waiters, Michael Schumacher and Kelly Lau, unleashed a torrent of abuse on the young teenager. He was struck with belts, a hammer and a baseball bat. He was sliced and stabbed with knives and bleach was then poured into the wounds. He slept with a chain and was burnt with a metal bat that had been held over fire until red hot. Even though he had vanished from protective custody, CPS never bothered to report him missing.

Kyle often heard his abusers speaking about killing him and chopping him up. He knew he had to escape. On the morning of the escape, he coerced the two-year-old son of Michel to reach him the key to unlock the chain around his leg. When he unlocked it, he dashed to the back garden and jumped over the fence with help from the trampoline.

Carmen, Kelly, and Michael took plea bargains and were sentenced to 30 years while Anthony pleaded not guilty and was sentenced to life imprisonment.

Exercise: Determining Your Parent’s Type

Emotional Parent

  • Is preoccupied with their own needs
  • Has low empathy
  • Is enmeshed and not respectful of boundaries
  • Is defensively non-intimate
  • Doesn’t engage in reciprocal communication; just talks about themselves
  • Isn’t self-reflective
  • Has poor relationship repair skills
  • Is reactive, not thoughtful
  • Is either too close or too distant
  • Has frightening or intimidating emotional intensity
  • Expects their child to provide soothing and doesn’t think about the child’s needs
  • Likes to pretend they don’t run the show
  • Sees themselves as a victim

Driven Parent

  • Is preoccupied with their own needs
  • Has low empathy
  • Is enmeshed and not respectful of boundaries
  • Is defensively non-intimate 
  • Doesn’t engage in reciprocal communication; just talks about themselves
  • Isn’t self-reflective 
  • Has poor relationship repair skills 
  • Is reactive, not thoughtful 
  • Is either too close or too distant 
  • Has rigid values and perfectionistic expectations
  • Is goal-obsessed and busy, with machinelike tunnel vision
  • Sees their child as a reflection, without considering what the child wants
  • Likes to run the show
  • Sees themselves as a fixer

Passive Parent

  • Is preoccupied with their own needs
  • Has limited empathy
  • Is enmeshed and not respectful of boundaries 
  • Can be sporadically emotionally intimate
  • Engages only minimally in reciprocal communication; mostly talks about themselves
  • Isn’t self-reflective
  • Has limited relationship repair skills
  • Can be thoughtful on occasion
  • Is either too close or too distant
  • Can be kindly and fun but not protective
  • Has a laissez-faire attitude that all is well
  • Is affectionate toward the child but doesn’t stand up for them
  • Likes someone else to run the show or be the bad guy
  • Sees themselves as mellow and good-natured

Rejecting Parent

  • Is preoccupied with their own needs
  • Shows no empathy
  • Has impenetrable boundaries
  • Seems disconnected and hostile
  • Seldom engages in communication
  • Isn’t self-reflective
  • Has no relationship repair skills
  • Is reactive, attacking, and demeaning
  • Is too distant
  • Ignores their child and can be rageful toward the child
  • Is often rejecting and angry
  • Sees their child as a bother and doesn’t want to get near the children
  • Likes to mock and dismiss
  • Sees themselves as independent from others

All four types of emotionally immature parents are self-involved and insensitive and therefore emotionally unavailable to their children. Their lack of empathy makes them hard to communicate with and difficult to connect with. They’re all afraid of genuine emotion and seek to control others for their own comfort. None of them make their children feel emotionally seen. All are draining to be around in their own ways, and ultimately all interactions center around them. In addition, all are incapable of true interpersonal reciprocity. 

-Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Adults by Lindsay C. Gibson

Its really important when dealing with trauma that people remember that trauma is not always just one life changing event. Its also microagressions, put downs, neglect, emotional manipulation, etc. This type of trauma very rarely gets brought to light in the general public because we don’t necessarily understand how its going to affect humans down the road. We constantly tell people that they can rise above how they were brought up, negating that they have been affected by these things.

Face the Music

Prompt: If your requests are open, could you write a oneshot were batsis,who’s between Tim and Damian’s age or is Damian’s twin sister, is constantly ignored, like they don’t mean to but she’s just kind of invisible to/overshadowed by the batfam, so she decides on staying with the superfam over summer to help at the Kent Farm (Of course Alfred knows but he doesn’t tell) and the batfam doesn’t notice till like a month in that batsis isn’t at Wayne Manor and they’re trying to find her and such.

 ———-

Being the granddaughter of the Demon Head isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Being Damian’s twin sister is even worse.

“Dad?”

“Not now, Y/N”

Your father keeps his back turned and continues to talk to Damian. “Dad, I just …”

“I said not now!”

Damian’s lip curls slightly when he glances at you, “Leave now, Y/N. Father and I are discussing the Mission, which you are not a part of”

You flinch, and quickly leave the cave. “Alfred?”

“In the study, Miss Y/N. Were you able to talk to your father?”

“No, he was busy with Dami, he didn’t have time to talk to me”

Alfred sighs quietly, “You cannot allow the men of this house to ignore you, Miss Y/N”

“I try Alfred! I try to get their attention! But I’m just not good enough! I’m not part of the Mission so I don’t warrant any attention!”

Gentle hands draw you into a brief hug, “You do not need your fathers permission, this time. I will allow you to go to the Kent farm for the summer. Who will be there?”

“Kon, Clark, and Clarks mom, Martha. I’m gonna be helping out around the farm”

“Very well. As long as you promise to write to me at least once a week.”

That forces a chuckle out of you, “This isn’t the old times, Alfie. I can just call you”

“Perhaps I enjoy receiving letters, Miss Y/N”

“Alright, alright, I’ll do both. You’ll keep me updated on the boys?”

“Of course. Now” Alfred gently nudges you toward the door, “It is time for you to pack. I received a call from Mister Kent, he will be here in three hours to pick you up”

“Thanks, Alfred!”

You and Clark land in front of the Kent farm, Kon landing behind you. “Why is this bag so heavy?!”

Rolling your eyes you turn and take the duffel bag from your friend, “Stop whining! You have super strength, and the bag isn’t that heavy! It just has cloths in it!”

“Clark? Is that you?”

“Yeah, Ma! I brought Conner and Y/N with me!”

Martha Kent quickly steps out to the front porch, “Well don’t just stand there come give your mother a hug!” Clark smiles, quickly giving Martha a hug, Kon is next, and the, surprisingly, Marth wraps her arms around you. For a split second, you panic, not having receive a hug from anyone but Alfred in a long time.  “It’s so nice to meet you, Y/N! I hope you enjoy staying with us. Come on now, I’ve made pie”

Clank stands beside Conner, “They ignore her you know, the Bats. She didn’t even tell them she was leaving. The poor kids touch-starved and she doesn’t even realize it”

Conner nods, “I know, but Grandma will fix that. The two of us will just have to make sure that she has the best summer possible”

“Yeah, we will”

“Pennyworth, who were you talking to?”

“No one, Master Damian, just a family member of mine”

Damian’s eyes narrow but decides to let the subject go, “Father would like to know if you have seen Y/N. Todd asked where she was, and Father has not seen her”

“I can’t say that I have, Master Damian. I have not seen her in quite a while”

Damian hums, “Very well, I will tell father and Todd”

Almost an hour later Jason comes up from the Cave. “Alfred, Damian says that you haven’t seen Y/N? How long has it been?”

“Quite a while, Master Jason. Come to think of it, I cannot quite remember the last time I saw Miss Y/N”

“Damn, well I’m gonna try her phone again. If you see her, will you let her know I need to talk to her?”

“Of course”

“Thanks, Alfie”

Once Jason leaves, Alfred picks up the phone and calls Y/N. After a month and a half the rest of her family has finally notice that she wasn’t in the Manor.

“I don’t know, Kon. I’ve never ridden a horse before, what if I fall off?”

Conner chuckles, gently picking you up and putting you on the back of the horse, “If you fall, I’ll catch you. You don’t have to worry about falling, Blueberry’s really smooth”

“Alright, as long as you stay with me”

A gentle hand steadies you in the saddle, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you”

Once the two of you get going, and you learn how to balance on the horse, the ride is surprisingly easy. The two of you make a loop around the farm, just taking in the open land. By the time you get back to the farm house the sun is starting to disappear behind the horizon.

“It’s so peaceful here, I wish I didn’t have to leave”

“You can come back whenever you want, you know. Grandma already said that you’re welcome whenever.”

Before you can respond, Clark steps into the barn. “Alfred called while you were on your ride. He said your father has finally noticed that you aren’t in the Manor. Jason actually noticed you missing first.”

“I’m not missing, I tried to tell Dad where I was going, but he was too busy to listen”

“Well, you might want to call him and tell him you’re fine, because he just sent out an emergency alert to all members of the Justice League.”

“WHAT?!?!”

Clark runs a nervous hand through his hair, “Batman called a meeting, all of the original members of the Justice League are gonna be there. I think you should call him, let him know that you’re safe, and tell him to call off the search”

You’re shaking, everything seems like it’s too much as this point, “He can’t be bothered with me when I’m at the Manor. Clark I’ve been gone for a month and a half, almost two months at this point, and they are just now noticing that I’m gone. I’m so done right now. I’m not calling him, I’m not calling any of them. You can tell my father where I am when you have your meeting, but he won’t be hearing anything from me”

“You know that I have to tell him, right?”

“You really don’t, Kal” Conner throws an arm around your shoulders, drawing you close, “She’s right, they didn’t even notice that she was gone. Y/N can just live here, with me and Grandma, somewhere she’ll have people who care about her”

“Kon, you know that’s not the right thing to do …”

“IT’S NOT RIGHT HOW THEY TREAT HER!!” Conner visibly pulls back, reigning in his anger, “It’s not right how they ignore her, it’s practically child neglect.”

“I know, but now she can come here. Now she has us to look after her. She’s always welcome in either of our apartments.”

“Thank you guys. You – you don’t know how much this means to me. But, Clark’s right, he has to tell my father that I’m safe. You should probably head to your meeting now, I’m gonna enjoy the rest of today with Conner”

Clark nods, pulling you into a tight hug before he flies away.

“What if we run away together. We can find some remote island, I can fly back and forth to the main land for supplies. It could just be the two of us, and anyone else we decided to tell”

You and Conner are laying on the roof of the barn, watching the stars. You never knew how many of them there are, the Gotham smog tends to block out all starlight.

“An island, huh? I don’t really think I’d want to live on an island, too many sharks in the ocean. How about we live in the mountains.”

“That could work!”

“I’m kidding! I can’t just run away forever. Dad wouldn’t stop looking for me, and then he’d pull out the kryptonite just to he could beat the crap out of you!”

Connor pauses mid-laugh, “Clark’s on his way back. Bruce will be here in the morning, he had to take care of something in Gotham tonight”

“Of course he did. The Mission is more important than anything” Clark lands quietly beside you, still wearing the Superman suit, “So, how did your meeting go?”

“Bruce was angry. Apparently, Alfred refused to tell him anything, and at first so did I. Eventually I told him that you were somewhere safe. He managed to deduce that you were here. He said that he’ll …”

“Be here tomorrow morning, yeah, I know.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N”

“It’s not your fault, Clark. Like I said before, nothing comes before the Mission, not even his own children”

“Come down to the house, Ma made apple pie”

“Alright, it’s probably the last time I’ll ever have it. Dad will probably lock me in the Manor and then forget about me”

“We won’t let that happen, I promise”

“What are you gonna do, Conner? Break into Batman’s house, and kidnap me?”

Conner’s eyes briefly flash red, “If I have to, that’s exactly what I’ll do”

The next morning comes too soon. You know that your father is going to be angry, that he’s probably going to lock you in the Manor, and that your twin is going to be pissed that he had to look for you.

“I could hide you in the barn, you know.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not hiding in a barn from my own father, I just wish that I could stay out here. It’s so … quiet compared to Gotham. There’s no villains, no vigilantes, no galas, nothing like that. Everything just seems simpler out here”

“I know what you mean. It’s nice to have a sanctuary. Clark has his Fortress of Solitude, and I mean I could go there too, but I like it better here.”

“I understand. Did Clark say what time Dad would be here?”

“No” Connor takes a huge bite of her cereal, pointing the now empty spoon at you, “He hasn’t tried to call you?”

“He can’t, remember, my phone slid off the roof, I haven’t exactly had time to get another one!”

“Oh yeah” He pauses, tilting his head toward the door. “Clark said that your dad is about 50 miles away, so he should be here in the next half hour”

“Yeah, I assumed he would be here early”

“There’s still enough time, we can make a break for it …”

You just roll your eyes, going into the kitchen to help Mrs. Kent clean up from breakfast. Exactly twenty-two minutes later Connor comes to get you. The jet is less than a mile away, and Clark said that it would be best if you were already waiting on the porch. The jet comes into view a minute later. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders an raise your chin, it’s finally time to face the music.

Jason is actually the first one out of the jet. He sprints up the porch steps and wraps you tightly in his arms.

“Don’t you ever do something like that again, you hear me?” He’s trembling, fine tremors wrack his whole body, “I thought something had happened to you. I’m gone for 3 months and you go missing, no one’s heard from you, no leads, nothing, you just aren’t there anymore”

Jason was the only one in your family, other than Alfred, who didn’t ignore you. He was constantly stealing you away from the Manor just to spend time with you, but sometimes he would go on missions that lasted between three to six months. Half the time he wouldn’t be able to contact you at all, and your father refused to tell you anything.

“I left a note for you …”

“Yeah, and all it said was that you were leaving for a while. That doesn’t help me, short stack! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, Jay. I kinda expected to be back before you came home”

“I asked B to wait in the jet until I talked to you. He’s pissed, Y/N. He flipped his shit when he realized you’d left. How long have you been gone, kid? Obviously, a while, you’re a hell of a lot tanner than when I last saw you”

“I’ve been here for almost two months as this point.”

Jason’s eyes widen, one hand running through his hair, “Two months … You’ve been gone for two goddamn months, and your own father didn’t fucking notice?!?!?”

“Um, yeah” You scratch the back of your head nervously, “I left with Conner and Clark on June 16th, and its August 3rd now”

“I’m gonna kill him”

“Don’t do that! You promised me no more killing unless absolutely necessary!”

“This is necessary!”

Mrs. Kent opens the front door, still drying her hands on a dish towel, “What’s all this ruckus out here? Clark! Where are your manors? Invite these nice people in for some snacks”

“Ma, I don’t …”

“Clark Kent, I know I raised you with manors”

“Yes, ma’am. Y/N, I’ll get Bruce and Damian from the Jet, why don’t you, Jason, and Conner head inside”

“Thanks, Clark”

Being stared down by your father and twin brother is extremely awkward, especially when they aren’t saying anything. It isn’t until after the snacks are cleared away, and everyone has once again moved out to the porch that they say something.

“Are you going to return to Gotham with us, sister? Or are you going to continue to run away and waste our time?”

“I didn’t run away, Damian!”

“tt” Damian rolls his eyes, mouth set in an almost permanent sneer, “You do not tell anyone where you are going, refuse to answer your phone, refuse to come home of your own violation … need I go on?”

“I tried to tell you and father! You two were too busy to listen to me! I told Alfred where I was going, and if anything happened I was living in the same house as two Super’s!”

Your father finally steps forward, getting in between you and your twin, “What you did was irresponsible and selfish, Y/N. What if the city needed me while I was out searching for you? People could have died because of your actions. Do you know what it’s like to have to worry about someone who …?”

Tears sting your eyes, “Go ahead! What were you going to say? Someone who can’t defend themselves? Someone who’s a disappointment? Someone who will never be the daughter you wanted? Someone who refuses to be ignored any longer?!” You take a deep shuddering breath, finally meeting your father’s eyes, “Then why did you come? Why did you come if I’m so terrible to have around?”

Bruce reaches out, tries to touch your shoulder, but you quickly evade, “Y/N …”

“No, you listen. I’ve been gone for two months! Two whole months, and you weren’t even the one to notice that I was gone! Jason noticed before you did, dad!” More tears slid down your cheeks, “Do you know what it’s like to be ignored like this? To be so easily forgotten? Dad, do you know why I was allowed to live?” Bruce shakes his head, “I was meant to die shortly after Damian and I moved in with you. Mother had orchestrated my death, it was meant to bring you closer to her, out of shared parental grief. I’m not sure why I didn’t die, but sometimes … sometimes I wish I did!!”

“Kid …”

It’s like all the fight’s drained out of you, and now you’re just tired, “It’s okay, Jason. I won’t argue anymore, I’ll go back to the Manor. I won’t leave anytime soon, it’ll be just like before”

“Y/N, don’t …”

You turn, facing Conner, “Thank you, for everything this summer. It was really nice to spend time with you, and I really hope that we can stay friends”

Conner envelopes you in a huge hug, squeezing you tightly to his chest, “Of course we can, we’ll be friends forever now.”

“Y/N”

“I’m coming father, I won’t keep you from Gotham any longer, just let me grab my bag”

“Sister …”

“Don’t start your shit, Damian. Being your twin sister has been hell, and right now I can’t take any of your insults”

Damian looks taken aback by your hostility, “I only wanted to say that I am sorry for how I treated you in the past, and I hope you know that … I will protect you if Mother ever tries to hurt you”

You let out an exhausted sigh, “Yeah, you’ll protect me, if you even notice me. I’ll be back in a minute, I need to pack”

Once Y/N is gone Jason, Conner, and Clark turn to face Bruce and Damian.

“You see what you’ve done now, Bruce? You see what I’ve been trying to tell you for years? Do you even know that girl? She’s been with you for six years now, she’s your daughter, and you don’t even know what her favorite color is!”

Bruce straightens, “I understand that I haven’t been very present in her life …”

“I’m gonna stop you there, Mr. Wayne. I understand that you’re Batman, that you protect Gotham from the bad guys, but did you ever think of how much damage you have done to that girl upstairs. Y/N is … she’s amazing, probably one of the most kind hearted and forgiving girls that I have ever met, and you’ve hurt her. You have made her feel worthless, like she doesn’t deserve attention, and I’ve been working for two months now to fix that.” Conner straightens his shoulders, “I’ll be visiting her a lot, just to make sure that you don’t undo what I’ve accomplished. You have a really special girl, Mr. Wayne, I’d hate to see you lose her forever.” Then the teenager turns and walks into the house.

“He’s right, Bruce”

“I know he’s right, Clark! I know I’ve messed up! I don’t need everyone here to tell me that”

Clark opens his mouth, but Jason beats him to it, “Then what are you going to do about it!? You can bitch that you know how terrible of a father you are, but what are you going to do to fix it? Because don’t think for once second that I won’t take her away from you. Conner and I won’t let you neglect her anymore. What you’ve been doing is considered child neglect, you’re just lucky that she’s old enough to take care of herself or she might be dead by now from your carelessness.”

“I’ll change, Jason, Clark. I’ll change for her, I’ll pay more attention, I’ll listen to her, I’ll go to counseling with her, I’ll go to parent classes if I have to! I didn’t realize …” Bruce breaks off when his voice cracks, his hands tremble, “I’ll be a good father, I promise”

Damian places one hand on his father’s shoulder, “I believe that we both have made mistakes, Father, and that we both have quite a long way to go until we gain Y/N’s trust back”

“We’ll do everything in our power to make this up to her. I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten” Everyone outside can hear Y/N and Conner coming down the stairs, “We have a long way to go to make it up to her, to prove that we care for her.” Bruce squares his shoulders, “We have to own up to what we’ve done, it’s time to face the music.”

if you’re in a home that’s abusive and you know the reason behind the abuse, you know that they don’t mean to hurt you and that they care about you, but just don’t have or use the skills to manage their emotions more effectively, im here for you and it doesn’t excuse or invalidate the abuse. it’s still abuse and you’re strong for being able to understand the reason they do it, but also strong enough to know that it’s still not your fault.

if your parent(s) or guardian(s) had you before they were ready, if you were an accident, if you were a one night stand, if your parents had you to fix their marriage, if you were born out of rape, if your parents’ emotional immaturity is the reason they abuse you because they had you too young and still haven’t grown up, I am here for you, and I appreciate how strong you are. you are so, so brave, and these things do not justify the abuse. you have a right to feel hurt by the things they say and do, and it isn’t your fault. you don’t owe your parents anything just because they kept you.

if you’re abused by your family and you still love them, not because you feel guilted into it but because you love the good times you’ve had and the memories you share, because you love their good traits, I’m here for you and I love you. you don’t deserve to be treated in the bad ways they treat you. even if the good times are so good you laugh until you cry, and the bad times are so bad you have an emergency bag packed in case you want to run away – the good times don’t justify the abuse. I feel you and I know you’ll be okay.

you can still have a relationship with your parents if you want to, and you can completely cut them out of your life if you want to. it’s up to you, this life is yours and your decisions are yours and no one else’s. you do not have to feel guilt or shame for either of those decisions, or for any decision you make concerning your wellbeing. and your decisions don’t have to be that extreme – you can hate the things your parents did/do to you, but you can still have a relationship with them and appreciate the nice times. either way you are still validated in saying they abused you or are abusive, and you are valid if you keep a relationship with them. or if you don’t. either way I’m here for you, and I’m proud of you.

I’m here for all of you.

To all the kids who were forced into taking care of your younger siblings, to everyone who had to do the work of mothering far too young, to people who lost huge parts of your own childhood in order to see that the other kids could keep a bit of theirs –

You should never have been put in that position. You deserved a childhood too. And I am so proud of you for doing the best you could in a bad situation. The kids you looked after are lucky that someone in their life cared enough to try to parent them, and on a day where people are thanking their mothers you deserve recognition too.

Thank you for trying so hard and for loving those kids as best you knew how. What you did was incredibly difficult and important work that you should not have had to do. Thank you for trying to give them the childhood you didn’t get to have.