Adult children don’t visit often enough? Seem weirdly guarded and closed-off when they do?
Here’s an idea: not turning every visit into a dramatic referendum on their entire lifestyle! Instead of tearful/screaming “interventions” about their every choice, complete with reality-show-style soliloquies about “I’ve tried so hard, so haaaard, but I can’t sit and watch this go on,” you just have a nice visit and let them live their life!
I see sooo many posts showing support for those who have abusive or absent fathers so here’s one for those of you whom have mentally ill mothers who didn’t raise you right because they couldn’t.
This is for you, the ones with moms that suffer from bpd, ptsd, anxiety, depression, addiction, etc. The mothers that always go out, and the ones that never leave the house. I’m sorry she kept you sheltered growing up because she’s afraid of the world. I’m sorry for every name she ever called you out of anger and all the crying fits she made you feel responsible for. For all the times she scolded you for buying the wrong thing or not putting the dishes away correctly. I’m sorry you had to listen to her as she screamed at you at the top of her lungs as you begged her to leave you alone. I’m sorry you can’t open up to her. I’m sorry she can’t see what a blessing you are. I’m sorry she can’t be proud of you no matter how hard you’re trying, but I am. I’m proud of you.
You’re doing great, and you deserve to be happy and to be supported. It isn’t your fault that she is the way she is and you can’t fix her. Whether she refuses medication or abuses it, it’s not your fault. When you start to notice her illness rubbing off on you, it’s not your fault.
You’re more than good enough and it’s going to be okay. I promise.
God my mom loves the “intervention” narrative so much. She so badly wants that TLC-show moment where everyone sits around me on the couch and tells me they love me but they’re so worried, and then I cry and turn my life around and go to rehab that very same night.
Except I’m not actually addicted to anything, so instead of drugs or gambling or whatnot, the intervention has to be for the kind of minor shit normal parents would just mildly nag about. And nobody else is ever interested in participating, so it’s just my mom alone and some unconvincing claims of “your dad is very worried too, he’s just, uh, too nervous to tell you.”
So in the end it’s just her and me and a couch and a lot of incredibly dramatic speeches about “I can be silent no longer! This is tearing our family apart! Please, I’m asking you for you and for me and for love, yes, I do still believe in love, please see that there is a light and a way out of the hellish life you’ve become entrapped in. And commit to me tonight that you will change your ways!”
This over, like, whether I should go back to school, or go on a diet, or try some random wonder supplement.
For a split second I relive [it]. My heart begins to race, and a tidal wave of pain comes crashing back. An incredible, inconsolable sadness overcomes me. The sadness is so great it suffocates me. I can barely breathe as a deluge of tears stream down my face. My hands become hot and red and tremble with fear. I try to control the shaking by clenching my fists, but I cannot make it stop.
I am alone. No one can help me. No one understands, and I am plagued by the senselessness of it all. Just for a split second, I am home again.
“No One Said Life Was Fair” a poignant and humorous memoir about growing up in an alcoholic family by Mary Kate DeCraene.
we know each other as we always were (ling and may, fma)
Because there’s complaining about wanting something and then there’s doing something that can get the ball rolling and inspiring other people to join me. (I’m desperate, if you can’t tell.) Also, I could not get the idea of Greed trying to be the BEST BIG BROTHER EVER out of my head. That’s HIS little sister, after all. So yeah, AU where Greed Lives and the world is a better place for it.
Life would’ve been strange in the palace no matter what. There was only one reason she had ever gone to the palace before: to celebrate name days, be it the Emperor’s, hers, or her siblings. She didn’t go to all of her siblings’ name day celebrations, as she had the furthest to travel and sometimes it couldn’t be afforded, but she had tried to do so, even if it meant traveling with only one other person. She could defend herself, but it would’ve looked bad if a princess went to the capital without an escort, even a princess as poor as her. Her empty seat in court on those days were noted and not in her favor.
A prince from the Yao clan could afford to go to all of them. He even had bodyguards, something that had amazed her when she had noticed them. A prince with people destined to protect him! She thought only the Emperor could afford that. All she had were her uncles, but they weren’t really bodyguards, only old men with a bit of training. It wasn’t until years later that she realized that she was the only princess to not have a single designated bodyguard, but by then, she was already learning how to take care of herself.
She had too many siblings for all of them to really matter while she grew up and the Yao prince had been relatively quiet, a nonexistent blip on her radar. Since the Emperor was so old, some of her siblings were fully grown by the time she was born. Ling was the closest to her in age, but he was still older than her and she was too shy to talk to most of her siblings, especially since they looked down on her for coming from the Chang clan. The first time she had met him had been at the banquet table, which had been completely covered in food for the Emperor’s birthday, when she was five. She had been so awed that she could barely pick anything to eat while Ling had been shoveling everything his eyes landed on into his mouth.
Summary: Forging was always a time for thought, and speculation. Length: 799 words (I kid you not) Characters: Fëanor, Curufin Tags: Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Forge Work, Childhood, Fëanor, Fëanorian Week Prompts: Forge Work, Childhood, Fëanor
The hammer was raised once more and the iron glinted dully in the forge-light before it dropped with a resonating ‘CLANG!’ The loud noise did nothing to jar Curufin, who had long since adjusted to the sounds of a busy forge. He wiped his nose with the back of a gloved hand and attempted to rub a smudge of what he knew to be soot off of his pale cheek. After a good couple moments of rubbing his jaw red, he decided that his face would probably never truly be clean of soot anyways and stopped, before raising the hammer again. It hit the glowing sword on the anvil with another ‘CLANG!’ and several white sparks shot away from the brown-haired elf’s metalwork, a couple landing on his leather apron and dimming.
Curufin paused in his work, setting the hammer aside and dunking the slowly-forming sword in a bucket of cold water. Steam hissed before the glowing sword adopted a less luminescent gray, and Curufin tucked the wisps of hair he hadn’t managed to capture in his ponytail behind his ear. When at last he deemed the sword to be cooled sufficiently, the tall elf lifted the sword from the now warm water to glance over the edges. Lost in thought though he may have been, the strokes of the hammer had been evenly distributed, and so the sword’s edge was even.
Someone hummed approvingly from behind him and Curufin whirled around, automatically swinging the half-formed weapon. The still-hot metal collided with his father’s blade and Curufin’s blade was knocked out of his hand and across the floor. They stood in silence for a few moments before Fëanor motioned towards the blunted blade with a small frown and Curufin bowed his head, retrieving it. Without a word, he handed it to his father.
I used to have a recurrent fantasy of paying my parents back. I’d work out exactly what I cost to them, every meal, every toy, fair market rent on my bedroom, reasonable babysitter wages for my parents, everything right down to the hospital bill for my birth. I’d save up for years upon years and then I’d write them one gigantic check for the purchase of me, now wholly paid off and owned by me.
I didn’t really expect to do this–it would come to a couple hundred grand, and they’d probably take it as an epic insult–but I fantasized about it because it seemed like the only way to make things right. Otherwise it felt like I had to provide hundreds of thousands of dollars of value as a child, and how the hell could I do that? How could I possibly be so successful, so obedient, so pleasant and helpful that you’d rather have me than a Lamborghini?
It’s hard to accept that your childhood was a gift, rather than a loan, especially when your parents aren’t too keen on that view themselves.
“Ada! Ada, come quick!” Elros and Elrond grinned wildly as they tugged on Maglor’s hands, pulling him through the tall grass towards the waves. Maglor tried to keep his smile soft and humble, but the twins had only recently taken to calling him ada and his heart still swelled at the word.
“The ocean is not going anywhere,” Maglor tried to explain, but nothing would calm the anxious twins. They had never seen the northern beaches before, only the rocky shores that the Haven was built upon, and Maglor was thrilled to see their excitement. The satchel around his shoulder was heavy with blankets and food for when the twins grew cold and tired.
As soon as they cleared the high grass, Elrond tugged off his sandals and abandoned them by the path’s entrance. Elros followed suit and chased his brother across the sand, laughing and waving at Maglor as they rushed by. Maglor waved back, chuckling as Elrond suddenly turned around and tackled Elros to the ground. Their squeals of laughter carried on the wind.
All I wanted was for you to love me.
All I wanted was for you to tell me that I was enough even if it was a lie.
All I wanted was to be good enough for you.
All I wanted was for you to hold me in your arms.
All I wanted was for you to protect me.
All I wanted was for you to save me.
All I wanted was for you to tell me that it’s okay.
All I wanted was for you to not remind me of my past.
Parents need to stop staying in loveless marriages just because they have kids. Stop sacrificing your happiness just so your kids can grow up in a 2 parent household. It’s toxic for the kids to grow up watching a dysfunctional marriage because it warps their perception of what love actually is. I know they think they’re doing what’s best for everyone, but it’s really not.