When I was 14, I sat on the edge of my bed with a Bible in my lap and whispered:
“God, please let him die in his sleep. Please.“
I didn’t cry. I didn’t even feel much. I just wanted the noise to stop.
He never hit me. That would’ve been too easy to name. Instead, he walked past me like I didn’t exist. For six years.
Not a hello. Not a goodbye. Not a single direct sentence.
He’d tell my mom what I was doing wrong in front of me — but never to me. I was furniture that annoyed him. A ghost that took up space. A reminder of a life he didn’t choose, and a son he didn’t want.
I remember standing in the hallway once when he came home from work. He looked through me. Through me. Like I was made of smoke and shame.
He’d slam the cabinet doors if I left a spoon in the sink. He’d take the batteries out of the remote when I touched the TV. He’d roll his eyes when I walked in, then pretend like he hadn’t seen me.
You learn to hold your breath in rooms like that. You learn to shrink. To vanish in plain sight. To walk softly in your own house like you’re trespassing.
And I prayed that night that he wouldn’t wake up. Not because I wanted revenge. But because I wanted a house that didn’t feel like walking on broken glass barefoot. I wanted a mother who didn’t look at me like I was the reason he sighed so much.
She never said it. But I saw it. Every time she stood next to him like a shadow with a wedding ring. Every time she defended his silence like it was a strategy instead of a sentence.
I stopped telling her how I felt. Because she stopped listening the moment he walked into her life.
Years later he died. Cancer. I didn’t go to the funeral. People called me cold. Said “you only get one father figure.” I just smiled and said “yeah.”
But the truth is: I never wanted him dead out of hatred. I wanted him gone because I thought it might save me.
The sad part? It didn’t. He left the house, but the silence stayed. It lives in my throat. It curls up in my stomach when someone raises their voice in the next room.
It whispers to me when I leave dishes in the sink. It taps my shoulder when I laugh too loud. It follows me into relationships, into jobs, into the mirror.
Because no one ever hit me. But he made me flinch anyway.
And now? Now I still sit in silence sometimes and wonder if God ever heard that prayer. Not to answer it. But just to notice me at all.
Because sometimes I think being seen is the only real miracle there is.
And I still haven’t had one.
Comments
If this is a story it made me cry.
If this is real it made me cry and hold out my hand to you.
I’m sorry you grew up this way. One day, you’ll overcome the trauma of growing up through this. You could look up one day and realize you’re surrounded by people who care and recognize your value.
I hate that I relate to this.
I really wish this is just a story and that you actually didn’t had to live through this for six years.., but if you did I hope with time you can heal from this trauma. That the silence will slowly be filled with laughter and warmth by people who cares.
I love you bro. You have a way with words. Take care of yourself.
I see you. If that helps. It sounds like you need someone to talk to. Therapy can do wonders. You’ve been abused. You don’t use that word here, but it’s the truth. He abused you. Your Mom enabled him. They failed you. You deserved better.
You are a gifted writer, and honesty the way you articulated such painful feelings was truly beautiful and a testament to your true soul. I hope you can find peace. Just know that I read this and heard you. You are real and you deserve this world.
I am so sorry the trauma lingered on. I hope you get out of this sooner and find hope. Go to a therapist. Let it out of you, iknow the hurt the frustration the gulp in ur throat is still there. You need help, you deserve love. U deserved a father who loved you not some monster who made ur life living hell. Takecare 🩷
You should write, you have good hand.
I see you and feel you. You’re now old enough to protect the child that would have flinched and cried. You can now defend him and tell him it’s ok to touch the TV, it’s ok to laugh out loud, and it’s ok to walk barefoot, there’s no broken glass. Don’t let the ghost of a man who didn’t know how to love leave you unloved and unseen. It’s time to reclaim your time and your life.
I’m so sorry that you grew up like this.
Please please please realise, that it was him, and never you.
You’re not a ghost. You’re not a unwanted misplaced furniture.
You’re a human being, who deserves the world. A world full of love and care.
I don’t know you in person, but I love you and send all my love out to you.
You can be whoever you want to be. Stay true to yourself and grow and learn and be better than the man who died.
🫂❤️
Holy shit. This was so moving and so incredibly beautifully written. You are a writer. A great one. You have a way with words and are very talented. I’m so incredibly sorry that this happened to you, and it infuriates and crushes me as a mom to think about your mom staying with a man who dared to treat her kid this way.
That was so so far beyond okay and you deserve so much better. You’re not hard to love, and fuck anyone who ever made you feel this way. I’m sending you so much love, OP. Thank you for sharing yourself with us. You’re a good egg. Keep writing
I’m sorry this is your experience. No one deserves to grow up in a house like that.
You will have to do the work to allow people to see you now…It will be a shift in mindset from “I must be invisible to survive” to “I would like to be seen and accepted for who I am”. That won’t be easy – but it will be worth it.
I’m so sorry. I had a Step-Dad like that. For 13 years, I went through something similar. He didn’t ignore me like that, but I could tell he didn’t want me there. I laughed too loud? I was shouted at. Didn’t do the dishes in a timely enough manner to him? Shouted at. Didn’t get a new job fast enough? Shouted at. Bought myself something online? Intense passive aggression. The kind you know exactly what he’s thinking. He’s been gone three years, and I still suppress my laugh, making it sound like I’m weezing. He even said he couldn’t trust that I went to work because he didn’t see me leave or return from work.
My mum eventually left him 3 years ago. I live with my Dad now. It was closer to my new job. It was getting out of that house that made me realise how bad it was. My Dad doesn’t fully understand. How can he? He’s never gone through that. But he sometimes laughs about the things I feel I have to say/do sometimes. Then I tell him why, and he just curses everything that happened. While you may not be lucky enough to move out just yet, I can say doing so will only help. Because it isn’t just living with that person. It’s the other people you lived with. The house you lived in. It all adds together.
I wish you all the best and hopefully a much happier life going forward. Just remember, you’re valued. You’re enough. You are worthy.
Yet another story where a mother did not protect her child. Despicable
I’m crying here, for you and me. I’m sending you hugs and love from my sofa in England ❤️
AI bruh. I’ve been using chat prompts a lotttt recently and this definitely feels a chatbot would cook up for me. As a writer as well, this feels too clean. The emotion generated feels too structured. Soul usually disrupts structure when we write. That’s what makes it feel natural. Humans don’t write like this without training and I doubt if you had serious training you’d be trauma dumping on reddit. Her replies give her away. They feel…too…feel good. I’m sorry OP, I call cap.
Editing this to call more cap:
• Humans don’t use this sign for shit “–”
• Who ends a reply to a comment with ‘One breath at a time’😂😂
• Someone mentioned ‘bro’ in his comment and the message style suddenly switched up to ‘love you too fam’.
Nah man. Cappppp. These things are getting harder and harder to catch each day 😂
I see you. Now go out, and change the world. You’ve got this.
Fuck. This hits hard. A lot of it is relatable, stirring up old shit from childhood that I had buried. I’m sorry it is so fresh for you. I see you, OP. I was i could hug you the way I wished someone had hugged me.
🫂
I see you. We all do. You deserved so much better and I’m truly sorry that the adults in your life failed you so badly.
You’re no longer invisible. You are loved.
I hope that you have a good therapist and that what I’m about to tell you is not news to you.
Childhood emotional abuse is a thing. It’s harder to recognize because unlike physical or sexual abuse, emotional abuse does not leave physical signs or scars. But is is real and it results in the same emotional and mental scars.
Adult Survivors of Child Abuse is an AA-style support group that you may find helpful.
From one survivor to another, hear this: You can overcome the effects of your abuse. You are more than the trauma and its effects. You can find the love and self-esteem you deserve. It is still in you, no matter how hard your parents tried to take it away.
This is so beautifully written ♡ I hope putting these words into the world has been one step forward on your healing journey.
As someone who was once a small child who whispered those same wishes, and also had them come true – I can tell you it dose get easier. But that initial shock was.. is.. devistating. I remember realizing that the change in setting wasn’t enough. I finally got myself safe. And once out of survival mode, once I could finally behave as a person and myself … I had to learn who that was. I had to face that the things that happened had changed me so deeply they were now a part of me. And you cant separate yourself from that as easily as you can separate from them once thier dead.
But there is so much beauty in the un learning! In unraveling YOURSELF, by you, for you! You are now your own favorite art project. Lay out all of your materials, pick out your colour schemes, learn how to incorporate the spilled paint into the picture. Make yourself a laubour of love.
It will not be easy. You will think you’re done or that you like the picture, then one day you’ll look at it and realize the shapes still kind of look like them. The influence behind it will never go away. But it’s all yours now. Some art is built from tragedy, but it’s still yours, and it’s still beautiful and meaningful and a piece worth creating. Keep going. And then; eventually, you’ll see that your style has become something entierly new. Something yours that honors the you who got through this and who made your life a work of art. Keep creating. Keep changing. Keep starting over. It’s amazing what you can become ♡
Love and hugs
Wherever you are in the world, a Dane would like to give you a hug and make sure to see you
I don’t know if you have one, but find a hill or trail where you can be with nature. And I’m talking lying down on the grass. Intentionally feeling dirt in your hand. Taking intentional breaths and feeling the outside air run through your lungs. Being mindful of how the sun feels on your skin. Feeling the heaviness of your body on the ground.
Coming back into your own body. You’ve been on high alert for so long and away from your body, I think this would be amazing for you. Bonus points if it’s a place you can let out a yell and realize your voice is big. Bold. Present. Yours.
This is so beautifully written.
Turning your trauma into art is a strenght. And I am proud of you for that.
No child deserves violence. No child deserves feeling unloved. Feeling wrong. Feeling unwanted.
I pray that someday you are free.
Meanwhile all I can offer you are hugs and tears of empathy.
hi. this might sound odd, but i kind of get you, or at least i think i do. my dad left a very similar impression after he’d passed, while my every much still alive relatives still leave those feelings all over the place.
what i want to say is that one day, you’ll go to your house, and it’ll feel like home. maybe it won’t be the place you live in now or even someplace you rent, or maybe you won’t even notice it until you finally feel your muscles relax. but you will find a home and you will feel okay.
neglect is an awful beast to heal against, because the wounds it leaves are invisible. therapy has helped me immensely, personally, so i sincerely hope that you’ll be able to find a good therapist, too. i’ll be rooting for you 🙂
Op you really are a beautiful writer. You should write more. It’s a gift.
I know the feeling you describe all too well. I suffered childhood trauma and I have often thought about how it felt like I spent years just just shut down, in survival mode thinking – I just need to keep going and push through and one day I’ll be an adult and away from this. It’s the same as getting through a truly terrible week – thinking I just need to get through this and then it’ll be the weekend – but for years on end.
I’m so proud of you for getting through it no matter how you did. You were only a child and you should not have had to live your life like that but you did and you managed it.
You are seen. There’s a saying “to be known is to be loved” and that’s happening here. We are seeing you here and loving you. We see your pain and despair, your strength and resilience, and your beautiful gift for words.
The only advice I’d give is that I wonder if you are still subconsciously shut down in some way. It’s incredibly common in survivors of childhood abuse and trauma to be shut down in some way without realising. It happened to me. You feel the whisper of what happened to you everywhere you go, and I understand. I do too. But the way I’ve found the miracle of being seen is to reach out and touch other people. Open yourself up and trust others. It’s incredibly hard but people will surprise you. Reach across the void and perhaps rather than waiting for that miracle, you can reach out and grab it.
I had to do the same and I ended up making the most wonderful friends who truly see me and know me and love me.
I have no words of true help or healing other than my heart goes out to you OP
I hear you and I see you. Thank you.
I hope you keep writing..This was very connecting. thank you for sharing
I had a neglectful stepparent too. Hugs
I hate this for you, I had a very similar upbringing. Second daughter, much to his disgust…he wanted a boy. All my fault apparently. For years I sought his praise, worked hard at school…he never came to any of my parents evening but went to all my sister’s. He too looked through me, turned the TV up if I tried to talk to him and much more sadly. I left home as soon as I could and raised my own family in a house filled with laughter and love. My ‘revenge’ was to be the opposite of him and to be non-judgemetal, kind and caring. Please know that you are loved, that you can turn the page and write a new chapter in your book of life. One filled with contentment, love and peace. Sending healing hugs from one ‘shadow’ to another 🫂🙏🤍
I don’t know you, but I could never imagine looking through you. Even from your post history, you are a person worth looking at, and looking into. You seem interesting and introspective. He missed out.
Geez. I am so sorry. Praying for complete healing and peace in your life moving forward
I’m ever so sorry and send love.
You write beautifully – your pain is expressed with such power and emotion. I’m so sorry this happened to you as you seem like a decent and talented human being.
When I met the person who would be my spouse, she told me to go down to the basement and attack an old mattress with a baseball bat, and gave me a box of old chipped dishes she said I could break every one. And I did. I threw them at the wall with such force I made dents. It helped. OP you didn’t ask for this person and DID NOT deserve that treatment. You are actually a worthy human being on this planet who did nothing to deserve that. You have the right to rage. And just so you know, the rage won’t consume you. It will just allow you to breathe a little better.
This is so heartbreaking but the way you’ve woven these words together… so beautiful. Just keep chugging on.
I see you
Never forget that any bloke can make a baby and be a biological father. Not ever bloke can be a dad. They are 2 completely different things, and you should not feel bad in any way at all that you didn’t go to his funeral. You don’t owe him anything.
You are a beautiful writer. The way you articulate your thoughts to convey your emotions…you can feel the pain in your words. I’m so sorry for the way he made and still makes you feel. It’s scary the power that our loved ones can hold over us even in death. I hope you find therapy or some outlet to heal these wounds. You deserve and are worthy of love and to love others. Healing takes time and I hope you find or are on the path to getting closure and peace. <3
I feel this is my soul 🫶
This is beautifully said and tragic. I’m sorry you had to live this.
My stepdad was like this and it was horrible. I’m so sorry you went through this. You did not deserve that at all.
You are an amazing writer. Please consider writing a book. I’m so sorry for the pain you have gone through from this person. Evidently, pain is what makes the greatest songs, books, movies etc. Be gentle with yourself, you have time to heal
You are enough. Let those words reverberate through everyone who’s reading this especially you OP. Hugs.
I know we are but strangers on the internet. But your story will live with me forever. I see you. I hear you. You MATTER.
You deserve love. Learn to love yourself because you seem wonderful
You should write a book. You’re really good at articulating yourself. I’m sorry you went through that 💔
You are a great writer! I felt this.
I see you 🫶🏻
You need an uncomfortable default answer to these assholes who complain about you not showing up.
he pretended you didn’t exist, so don’t feel bad to pretend he didn’t exist
the notion of “don’t think I’ll of the dead” is as feculent as the corpse it applies to, because if the dead don’t want to remembered badly, they shouldn’t have lived so badly
You should be a writer. I’m so sorry this happened to you. The story was sad but captivating with your words.
I hope you live in peace now that your abuser is gone.
Taking part in spoken word events is a real achievement. Yes I love music, books and poetry.
Dude, you’re a fucking writer!
I see you, and I understand.
I’m sorry you went through that. I dated a woman with a 2 1/2 year old daughter and I fell in love with them both. That little girl was my world for the next two years until we unfortunately had to part ways due to the relationship with the mother. I just can’t imagine someone treating you in that way. You are worthy of everything they kept from you. You are worthy of a dad/mom that loves you and sees you as the most important thing in the entire world. I hope you’ve realized how worthy you are because you were NEVER the problem. Not sure how old you are now, so sorry if this comes off as preachy.
This. My dad is the SAME man. I just left him in a hospital in buffalo fighting multiple myeloma and took an uber two hours to escape. Fuck that guy. Fuck my dad too.
You’re worthy. Be a victor.
AI slop
Fake post to promote your socials. Account created today. Zzzzzzzzz
I see you. I feel you. I know this pain. We look to others to tell us who we are. This excuse for a man was telling you who he tried to make you be. You are not that. He is gone and his sick tortuous game is over. That was never who you are. You were never invisible. You took up space and you still do. You are here. He is not. You exist. He doesn’t. I am not telling you this to scold you into snapping out of it. I’m speaking to you from my heart, as a mother, to tell you I see you.
Be seen. Exist here with me in this world where we can interact with life, not shrink and hide from it. Make eye contact and smile at a stranger. A retail interaction can sometimes be just a warm feeling between two. Words aren’t necessary. Be you, who you are, existing, and that is the gold. Coffee shops, restaurants, parks, gas station, in traffic, grocery store, these are all places you can be seen. A random kid asked me to watch her dismount from the park swing- she wanted to be seen, literally, and I did see her. I validated her and congratulated her on her dismount and her courage to jump. I might be wrong but that interaction was me being able to fill someone with something I didn’t receive often. My life of neglect doesn’t make me small and invisible. It doesn’t mean I don’t possess love and attention and care because I didn’t receive it.It makes me be able to see the small and invisible and I am often sought out by little ones because they know I see them.
It’s those little interactions that make me feel seen too, and sometimes I want to be seen because being shrunk and invalidated is a lonely island.
We all want to be seen.
Sometimes interactions with strangers and being seen by a stranger is much more comforting than what we go home to. these tiny interactions of being calm and simply existing together is a breath of fresh air for me. I hope you can do the same and learn to enjoy and even look forward to the possibility that you could see someone. Like someone ringing up your groceries. Just being calm with someone is rare these days.
Little story
My family was driving and I was melancholically looking out the window. A woman driving by herself on the highway saw me and she looked at me with the warmest smile. She held it for me. We made eye contact. I still remember this. She SAW me. I was in the car with my family that neglected me and this woman saw me and I still think about it over 30 years later. Being seen is so important. See others and they will see you.
I wish you peace and love. I see you.
You have an amazing way with words. Your pain is palpable; your invisibility to one is now clearly visible to all who read.
I celebrate your ability to exist, to continue in spite of the wounds of your past.
I see you, and I believe in you. Every time you leave your mark on the world, you are making a shout into the universe “I EXIST!”
And that matters. Because YOU matter.
Hugs hugs hugs
OP, I just want to give you the biggest freaking hug. Keep using writing as an outlet, friend. This piece is stunning and beautiful and so incredibly heartbreakingly painful. I’m terribly sorry for how you were made to feel. No one should ever feel invisible.
I’m sorry you went through this. My story with my mother is quite similar, I especially relate to the invisibility, the anger, the feeling of trespassing in your own home, the feeling of being ganged up on by both parents. The neglect, the lack of support, the heaviness of just existing. Not blatant physical abuse, but chipping away at the sides of your soul.
I had to cut her out of my life as an adult because of her constant disrespect as I entered marriage and parenting, and the above mentioned things. Everyone thinks I’m harsh and cold for doing so, my mother in law is scared I’ll do it to her. She can’t understand what I went through, not the she ever asked me to try to understand either.
No one can understand this type of dynamic unless they’ve lived it themselves. For me, it feels like grieving someone who’s still alive, and my mother lives REALLY close to me. It’s been 8 years and I’m still scared of running into her at the grocery store or somewhere around town. She hasn’t made any attempt at reconnecting with me, nor fixing herself. She seems fine and dandy to not have to be a parent anymore, nor get to know her grandchildren. But ask her about it and she’ll say I’m evil and heartless. My mother has no relationship with her mother or sister either, none of us do, a generational cycle of severed women. The standard of burning bridges with the women in your life. I’m doing so much work, not just to do my best, but to improve my best, so this doesn’t happen with my child. Only time will tell, like watching the timer run down on a bomb…
For those who can’t understand why I had to make this hard decision, I remind them this wasn’t a random one. It was decades of accumulating verbal, emotional, and psychological abuse. I remind them my sister and father had to cut her out, too, all three of us (plus several others in the extended family) can’t all be wrong. I remind them that I TRIED to help her after my dad left her, allowed her to move into my apartment with me so she could sit in her bedroom, rolling and smoking cigs, and drinking liters of vodka every day, refusing to get a job so my dad and I paid for everything for her, criticizing every move I made in MY house, scolding me for extremely mundane things, I was 23 years old, a grown woman. I remind them that they’re looking at my choice and experience through the lens of their own experience with their mothers, and bless their precious hearts that they can’t imagine how hard it was for me. I ask them to remember the biggest, most relentless bully they’ve ever had in their life, or imagine the worst type of bully, and think of that as your own mother. It’s not MY fault she couldn’t love me and get her shit together. Yet they all seem to think it is… I tell them they wouldn’t accept this behavior from a friend, coworker, boss, stranger at the store, WHY should I have to tolerate it with the person who happened to birth me? The one who gives birth is supposed to be the safest place in the world, but she used birth as a hall pass, an excuse to dump all her trash at me, like an emotional punching bag for her pleasure. Payback for ruining her body and changing her marriage in a negative way. It was my fault my dad cheated on my mom while I was an infant. Such power I had back then! Imagine that…
I truly hope she finds peace in her life. I truly hope one day she can see the damage she did to her children, make some serious effective change, and come back to us humbly. I hold a lot of compassion for the abuse she endured herself, but I refuse to allow that abuse to be thrown at me. I actually took the high road, to protect myself, my child, my marriage, my life and family I’m creating. Others think I took the low road. It would be too easy to be just like her, but I refuse to settle for that.
I relate to the aftershocks, the flinches you mentioned, too. Everything about my new home is triggering to an event from living in her house. I remind myself I’m allowed to take up space, I don’t need to be afraid of being randomly attacked by anyone who lives here, I don’t need to hide away in my room, I don’t need to feel sorry for leaving dirty dishes in the sink. If my child does something that triggers me, I have to work twice as fast in half the time to respond appropriately, not have an immediate, familiar, reactive explosion like she would. My adult life has the same setting as my childhood life, a house filled with people, food, furniture, rooms, bathrooms, but the energy is entirely different. Carving new associations over the old ones is definitely hard. After 8 years, I can relax a little bit. I think I’m on the right track, at least, I know it’s a different track, a better one. I can always improve… My kid is simply amazing, and although I regret to admit I lose my temper sometimes, I never direct it at my kid. I’ve never cursed at her, never hit her, and best of all, I apologize for losing my temper. I don’t make her feel bad for existing. Those are huge differences for me. My mother’s apologies were always said sarcastically, “Sorry, but YOU…!”
I’m just rambling now…. but you’re absolutely not alone, I’m glad I’m not either. You’ve got a new friend in me. I hope you’re on your way to find peace and closure with your situation. I see you, I notice you, maybe that’s part of the answer to your prayer. Deep hugs from afar ❤️
feels like AI but if not, damn. that’s a helluva story.
Sorry you had to endure that.
The silent treatment IS abuse. Most people are only AH enough to do it for a few days, or a week. But for YEARS? That is real trauma, as you have eloquently related. I’m so sorry you went through this. You are worthy, you are seen, the world is better with you in it. Please don’t let one man’s complete failure as a father ruin your whole life. And your mother should be ashamed for allowing it to happen. She should have protected you. 🫶
You write beautifully. I’m sorry about the awful things that’s happened to you.
When i was 16, I had my first son. My step dad completely disowned me for 3 years. He refused to even be in the same room as me. My baby and I had to live in my bedroom when he came home from work and on weekends. He ate dinner in his bedroom. My mom almost divorced him because of it. I moved across the States for a couple of years, and when I moved back home at 19, he was much better. After my mama very unexpectedly passed away in 2016, he told me how sorry he was and that me having my kids sooo young (4 by 22) was a huge blessing because my mom loved being a grandma 💕
I’m so sorry that you grew up this way. But I just wanted to let you know that you write beautifully.
There’s a kind of insidious, slow burning trauma a young child will experience when their home suddenly becomes a hotel room.
When a step-parent shows up and finally drops the pretense that they were a family person, when all the wanted was their spouse, and kids become baggage they have to put up with. It’s amazing how they can hide it from their spouse, or maybe in some cases the spouse really doesn’t care or doesn’t want to see what’s really going on. You feel like a stranger in the only home you’ve ever known. Suddenly there are places in the house you aren’t allowed to go, alarm codes you don’t know, things you aren’t allowed to touch or else they get other people upset. It’s like living in some kind of odd prison, convicted of some unknown crime, simply for existing.
This is why as soon as you have a chance, you make your own world. One that isn’t a hotel. One that doesn’t have some thinly-veiled caste system that nobody talks about. One where the sun shines and warms every room in the house, and everybody is part of one, true family. You can make sure this won’t happen to anybody else if you have anything to say about it, and that will go a long way in making up for what you had to deal with. You can do it.
I swear to God I could’ve written this. I’m 30 now and he’s softened in his old age and gotten nicer but he has never been able to tell me WHY. I know how you feel, inherently and constantly feeling the need to apologize to the world for existing. Sorry you’ve experienced this.
Your writing is very powerful, I hope you get the recognition you deserve someday. Our parents shouldn’t define who we get to be, but it certainly doesn’t make it easier growing up without support.
I see you and I will remember you. Good luck my friend!
i know that silence too well. idk how old u are but im almost 30 and i can finally say im heard and im seen! therapy and medication has helped me A LOT. everyone has a different path they take, and whatever path u take- i hope you’re able to heal!
i see u, i here u, and im here for u. sending u the softest hug <3
This is so beautifully and painfully written. I hope you get to heal. I hope get to feel loved. And I hope what you seek for, finds you.
Your writing is fantastic!
OP where could a person view your artwork?
You’re worthy of love, of being held, of being loud. You’re worthy of being seen and heard. You’re worthy. You can rewrite your story now, you can be the father to yourself that you deserve.
This was beautifully written and sad and deep. But I have news for you. I see you. I had a similar situation growing up. Unfortunately he still lives, but we haven’t spoken or seen eachother in over a decade🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
I oscillated between admiring your your writing to digesting the crashing reality of your childhood and present day. Nobody deserves this
Hey everyone, i just wanted to say this once, loud and clear:
I’ve read every single comment. All 140+. Some twice. Some with a hand over my heart. I never expected my story to resonate with so many. And to those who felt seen for the first time reading it: thank you for letting my voice hold hands with yours.
To those who offered advice, prayers, hugs, poetry, and pain of your own: You definetly didn’t have to, and that’s what makes it matter even more.
Now the real talk: I can’t reply to everyone right now. I wish I could. Yes I’m a writer, not a machine. I feel everything. So if I missed you, it wasn’t because I didn’t care, it’s because my fingers are still learning to type through this much love. 😀
So here a couple answers to those that are still wondering: Is this real? Yes. Every breath of it. Some people told me i have to share my story on Reddit, which is what i did today and just because I bleed in full sentences doesn’t mean it’s fake. It just means I’ve had years to rehearse in silence.
Do you write?
I always did. My pain turned into a pen, and that pen gave me back power. Writing is how I stitch the ghost back into flesh.
Do you have friends or support?
My best friend is my art. My secondbest friend is myself. But right now? It’s also… all of you. And that feels a bit surreal and overwhelming.
Are you in therapy?
Yes, in my own way. Reflection, creation, community. I’m not healed, but I’m healing.
Can I ask questions or talk?
Please do. Leave a comment, or chat me up. I’ll be in this thread whenever I can, and I’ll do my best to reply below.
Thank you for seeing me. For hearing the silence between the lines. And to anyone still carrying something heavy and quiet:
– Speak
– Write
– Scream
– Paint
– Build
– Breathe
Just don’t carry it alone anymore.
This is incredibly relatable. Too relatable. And now years later my father is trying to desperately reconnect with me after cheating and divorcing my mom. And I’m torn because yeah I would love to have an actual father in my life but also why should I give him the time of day when he couldn’t do that for me for 27 years. I feel so guilty trying to keep him out of my life. It’s so hard.
Hauntingly beautiful.
Nice story, it’s a shame it was written by a LLM. Reverse engineering models pot this between 74% and 93% aligning with ChatGPTs latest free public demo.
Enjoy your karma.
What a poetic confession.
I know how this feels but it was my brother and he actually hit me. He’s still alive and lives with my family still ( mom, other brothers and nephews ) yet they wonder why I don’t come around they also know what he did to me. I understand trying to be invisible
I see you.
Different traumas but a lot of the same after effects, sadly. Wanted to say more but I don’t think I have it in me right now. But I just wanted to say I see you. Take care friend.
>He never hit me.
What a tombstone epitaph.
I am glad for you. I’m sorry, I can’t help much, soon, not real soon you will be free from his influance. When you are able sing in joy:
>“Free at last, Free at last, Thank God Almighty I’m Free at last”
I see you, I acknowledge your existence. You matter because I have read your thoughts, your words, I feel your pain, I acknowledge you.
You are seen, though you dont know it. Someone would notice if didnt say Hi to them as you go about your week. Reaching my arms to give you a warm snuggly hug.
Dealing with the aftermath of the mental trauma parents do to us sometimes can take years to get through to find out we are worth so much more or for some they may not. But each of us are worth being seen and loved, especially as childern.
My husband gave me a small smooth rock the first Christma (15yrs ago) we were together. It had engraved into “You are never alone ” and “You are loved” on the side. I keep it on my bedside table and carry it in my pocket on days I need it. It makes me feel seen and reminds me that I am loved just the way I am. I have so many things that have huge monetary value but that rock it my greatest possession
You have been seen now, OP. I am so sorry 😢
I’m sorry I laughed at the line “you only get one father figure”. No, you only get one biological father. And that man was no father figure. So you’re still waiting for that one.
Morbid humor aside, I’m so sorry you dealt with this. I wouldn’t have gone either. I’m giving you hugs, love. You deserved better.
Also, you’re an incredible writer and that’s a gift. I could visualize every aspect of this which is really hard for someone with adhd to not only read a long text but fully comprehend it. You did that here. I hope you choose to use this ability in your future.
Aww – beautiful boy. Eyes adjusted to darkness can’t stand to look at such light.
Thanks for sharing your story. I hope you continue to heal, and that you allow yourself to shine bright always.
You should be an author.. I’d read your book… if you’re in the dc area.. I’ll be your friend… you deserve friends… you’re beautiful and kind…I can tell from your writing. You’ve got this… keep going
Thank you for sharing. I’m in a similar situation. I’ve been married to my wife for almost 40 years. About 3 years ago, she began giving me the silent treatment. I have some ideas why she began doing that, but not really sure why since she would not talk to me. This has also affected her relationship with our children. This has negatively affected me emotionally and my work and health has suffered.
I moved out of our house a couple months ago to get away. It’s better being alone than being around a toxic relationship. Some people may think of a toxic relationship where there is violence, verbal or other type of abuse. But being ignored by someone you loved for so many years is just as hurtful. I will probably end up filing for divorce as soon as I get some things in order.
I don’t blame you for not attending his funeral. Respect goes both ways. It takes both parties to make an effort to maintain a relationship. In my opinion, the treatment you received was abuse. I hope you heal from this.
OP… I have so many things to say but don’t have all the right words.
I wanna give you a soft strong hug.
Please try to get some therapy when you are able to. The mental abuse has stuck with me much longer than any physical abuse.
I wish only the best for you and your future.
[Second longer hug]
Hey, usually I don’t comment on a post with a lot of comments already, because.. what else is there left to say.
However, in this case, I felt compelled to anyway. If nothing else, just to add one more voice to the void telling you I’m sorry you experienced that and that we see you.
Your words gave me chills. You’re a gifted writer, and each sentence struck deeply. I hope you keep writing and above all, I hope you believe me when I say that you matter and you are a gift to this world.
I’m wishing you all the good things in life.
“Big things have small beginnings.”
OP, there are people out there who will listen to you and care what you have to say. You just need to find them.
Your stepfather was a problem, but he wasn’t the only problem. Your egg-donor was one too. She knew you were hurting and let it happen. As far as she was concerned you were an acceptable sacrifice for her to have a partner.
Ahhh it’s been a while since I’ve read something that made me cry but goddamn it the tears won’t stop flowing. As someone who now walks so quietly I accidentally scare people because no one can hear my footsteps, I understand your struggle. I hope you keep healing, slowly but surely. Stromp when you walk! Fuck it.
You are not alone. Many of us have the same reaction to different forms of abuse. Try to find some therapy and eventually get strong enough to leave everyone who allowed this behavior out of your life. You can get better. Life can and does get better if you put in the work. I’m a 49 yr old man who has seen some shit and lived through some shit and I offer my ear if you ever just need to vent or want to ask questions.
Fist post in a long time that elicited an emotional reaction. Beautifully written.
You’ve got a really beautiful talent for writing. Maybe writing it all out can help you heal? I’m so, so sorry for what you’ve been through. That type of abuse is just as bad as physical abuse. Just know that this internet stranger is sending you love and sending out a prayer for your peace and healing. 🩵
I read you and hear you and see you. You matter.
Wow your writing is truly spectacular. I think if this is true then it makes sense.
When you swallow up all the words you wish you could say to be left in silence, they are expressed on paper to anyone who opens their heart to hear it.
Some of us yearn so deeply for understanding that we believe if we use the right words, speak in the correct manner, then maybe JUST MAYBE they will hear what we have to say. People like that, though, have closed their ears to anything we may say.
I heard you. I hope you feel seen in this lifetime.
Listen, two things:
Your fans, now including me, will praise you and love you. As you gain more fans, please remember that there are nothing more than customers and likes. Stay grounded and centered. Find your healing through science-based therapy, and find your humans face to face.
Your detractors will challenge what you write and what you perform. Shrug them off. If they don’t like your work advise them to maybe check out Taylor Swift or something. Trust your center and don’t engage with inexpert critics. You are vulnerable in your art which means you need to protect yourself. Ignore people who try to rage bait you or just say thanks for the input.
Trust the old lady: The most important thing is to find and keep your balance if you want your talent to work for you.
I see you! (spiritually) You’re there! I’m sending you internet hugs and love!! ❤️❤️
Oh god. You brought me to my knees. I felt so much of this growing up.
You didn’t deserve that. You deserved to be seen. You deserved to be protected. I hope you are able to be in silence peacefully.
You are very talented. I envy you for that. I think putting feelings into words or musical notes or brush strokes is a wonderful talent.
I don’t have that talent. You have. I’m sorry that his discovery came with pain and suffering, you deserved better parents.
I wish you success in your art and healing for the rest of your life.
Edit: I read the poetry you wrote in your history. Wonderful, congratulations! I redouble my envy.
This was a form of abuse, weirdly.
I urge you to talk to a therapist to help you negotiate this trying time.
Good luck.
I hope you will accept a virtual hug from an internet mom!!!
While the words you conveyed tell of heartache and heartbreak. As well as deep loneliness and isolation, they are beautiful. I hope you heal the child within and learn to love you. Learn to see yourself and love every part of you. I am sorry for your experiences so far. I hope that someday you don’t feel that energy and it no longer is a part of you.
You have a beautiful way with words and I felt them in my soul. I hope you pursue writing, because you are incredible! You are also incredible because you are you and it is a miracle you exist. So many things led up to you being here. I don’t know if I believe in a Christian God, but I definitely believe you are meant to be here. Or you wouldn’t be.
You’re an amazing writer, and I don’t say that lightly. You truly have a gift. If you wrote a book, I’d read it.
Like many others are saying, you ARE seen. You are heard. And you are loved. I am so beyond sorry that you endured such pain and that his ghost still haunts you. Neglect is just as painful as being hit. It is absolutely one of the worst types of abuse. I am so, so sorry. You deserve better.
I know for a fact you just impacted many many people with your writing and your experience. There are people, like me, who will remember this post. Who will remember your words. Who will always be rooting for you and hoping with all of our hearts that one day soon, you feel seen and loved in all the ways you deserve to be.
If you need someone to talk to, please feel free to message me. You’re not alone.
As someone who’s lived this, I wish I could hug you. Someone will recognize you. See you. Love you for everything you are
The way I can tell this is true, is that people who have been through something similar tend to have a way with words. The words they’re allowed at home are limited, and they learn to pick them carefully. And you have a beautiful way with words.
Not a therapist just have a bunch of trauma that I’m paying a mint to deal with.
There’s wounds that take time to heal, and there’s wounds that take discussions with a professional to heal. Unfortunately you have the second type.
It took me a long time to understand what trauma is. It’s not just seeing horrible shit. I’ve seen all kinds of horrible shit and it’s not stored in my brain as trauma.
Trauma is experiences that are stored in your brain, in a different section of your brain than normal memories. The evolutionary reason is to protect you from horrible shit happening again. Like for example seeing somebody getting attacked by a tiger.
It took me a buuuunch of expensive therapy to understand that I have emotional trauma.
I would honestly expect from that horrendous treatment of you as a child, that you have pretty heavy emotional trauma about it.
The reason I had to deal with my trauma’s is because it was having a really damaging impact on my personal life and relationships. I wasn’t able to successfully maintain healthy relationships, and my personal life is slowly rebuilding and becoming much healthier.
It doesn’t go away, and it has lasting impacts on how you interact with the world and how you’re able to live your life.
Its not all doom and gloom, I’m generally a pretty happy person, my 20’s were filled full of pretty wild experiences.
It did take until my 30’s for me to recognise I wasn’t living my life how I wanted to, rather how I was able to.
I recognise you’re young and money is usually a problem.
A few things to make life easier before you’re able go to therapy. Be kind to yourself. Be curious about your feelings even if they are overwhelming. If you can learn what self love feels like in your body, you’re a LONG way ahead of most people.
I wish you all the strength you need, I wish I could hug you. You deserve and deserved much better.
P.s. I know you’re in obvious turmoil but you’re already showing great self awareness. Keep it up. You’re making an internet stranger proud as punch.
I don’t tend to talk religion on reddit because people feel they can attack about it. But since you mentioned believing in God I want to tell you. As Christians we’re told we need to love everyone. Many non Christians don’t get this because how can you love someone you don’t know. It’s because you’re made in Gods image and that’s the respect you’re owed purely for that. It’s not dictated by your actions because that’s Gods job. And that man didn’t give you that respect and I wish you never had to think about him ever again. Just know he is being held up before God and his actions are weighed. That said
I love you.
I’m sorry you went through this.
You will find people who not only love you but choose you.
This hurts to read. I’m a mum to a boy. Knowing there are kids out there that have had this experience hurts my heart. I just want to give you a big mama cuddle. You deserve love, attention, and affection and I’m so sorry you grew to feel the complete opposite.
Im sorry OP. You should never have had to experience what you did. I don’t blame you one bit for missing the funeral either.
You’ll no doubt have this hurt inside of you for a long time, but you learn to heal and grow on away from the pain and cope as times passes. I hope so for you anyway.
I myself grew up with a neglectful and abusive father. They don’t even have to lay a hand on you to hurt you…..I still deal with mental health issues but I grew into an adult who learned to adapt and heal. I pray you can find that healing too OP.
It might offer you some kind of understanding of your trauma and help with future healing, I suggest looking into a book called “The Body Keeps The Score” by Bessel van Der Kolk.
Through your beautiful words we are seeing you. If you are not a writer you should be and more importantly you will find people that see you. Try to talk to someone, it’ll help.
What about your mother? Is she still alive? Does she carry the tradition he established?
Tragic story. Beautiful storytelling.
I want you to know that contentment, safety, and even happiness is possible. I grew up with a neglectful at best father and at his worst -I’ll let my bald spot and new teeth do the talking. My mom could only do so much to protect us and she had her own major faults, one of them being that she kept falling for the same kind of men. I have reclaimed my space and now my house is always peaceful because it’s mine. I used to be afraid of the silence at home because that meant someone was about to start screaming or someone just finished screaming but in my home? It simply means there’s no music playing or my boyfriend and I are doing different things in the moment. I grew up with all the doors closed and mine, always locked. But in my home, all my doors are wide open and they are never slammed. If they are slammed, my boyfriend or I will call out “Oops! Sorry!” because I tend to jump a lot. I used to be afraid of being seen because my dad took it as a personal affront that his daughter was ugly and fat. In my home, my boyfriend and I give each other our undivided attention. We’re seen and heard and treated with respect. My boyfriend has his own issues where he was brought up as “the man of the house” which just meant he was expected to only contribute financially to the family but he couldn’t be a whole person with feelings or emotions. In his house, his emotions are seen and validated.
I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through, but I want you to know we, the people of Reddit see you, but also the confused child in me sees the confused child in you. I don’t know why god didn’t step in or come through for us. I don’t know why we have to bear so many scars that we start to question if that’s all we are. I’m here to tell you that you’re more than your parents and their repeated sins. It’s about damn time you find a little space in the world that is all yours, where you’re treated with respect and I hope you find it soon.
I can understand the lasting trauma that came with growing up a “burden”. I hope healing finds you in time. 💙
Oh OP! I’m so sorry that you have had to suffer that sort of trauma. I’m so sorry for your pain. You did not deserve that!
I hope that you have opportunity to talk to a professional and I hope that you find peace, and joy and a hopeful future. You have value and you are full of worth. A huge internet huge to you!
I see you. I hear you. Breathe deep.
Good luck. 🍀
Show your mom this post. It should hurt her, so, so much that she intentionally ignored this happening to you. This is your mothers fault just as it was your stepfathers.
He might be dead, but your mother has a lot to answer for, and a lot of therapy to pay for
I cried reading this. I want to hug you and comfort you. I’m so sorry that you suffered so much.
You wrote this beautifully. You articulated the pain and suffering. You should get into writing. I honestly would pay to read whatever you come up with. You are insanely talented.
I hope that you grow and prosper. I wish you love and happiness.
Beautifully written and tremendously sad. You’re an amazing person, OP! Love you!
I’m so sorry, OP. I can somewhat understand
Your story made me tear up. I’m sorry you endured all this and hope things only get better for you. Your writing is also beautiful and captures your pain and melancholia so well that I felt every word you wrote. You will rise above all this.
By the end of this post I really felt what you were saying (this is so well written) all the internet hugs you want to you
We see you.
“Because no one ever hit me. But he made me flinch away.”
I’ve never felt so seen by a line of poetry. Sometimes I wish my mom had hit me instead. You can ice bruises and bandage cuts, but there’s no way to forget the things she’s screamed in my face.
This is beautifully written OP. I’m sorry you had to live this. I hope you can heal the wounds he left you.
I’m so sorry this was your life, OP. There is so much to look forward to. Laugh crazily, leave a million spoons in the sink. Learn to live loudly. You deserve it.
There will come a day, when his whispers will stop, when you won’t feel his taps. There will be a day when it won’t follow you. I wish I knew you, to see you when those days come. Take care friend.
We had a similar stepfather. Mine would pretend he couldn’t remember my name. He called me the girl. No eye contact. I had to eat before everyone else. I couldn’t go to dinner or on trips because there wasn’t room for me in the car. I see you. Peace.
I don’t know why, but I love you.
And that’s something that I avoid saying even to my mom.
My relationship with my dad is really like what you are describing, it is horrible.
I wish you the best!❤️
Sorry what life has dealt you with. your writing was beautiful. Godbless
My stepdad treated me and my mom similarly he was verbally abusive and financially abusive to mom. One day I told him off he was yelling with a beer can, I went off I told him I hope his alcohol kills him. Mom got a divorce after he kicked me out, she met an awesome man after. He died three years ago, apparently on his deathbed he wanted me to show up and forgive him.