DEAR ABUSER

Your legs are skinny. Your skin is ashen. You’ve shaved your head now because you can’t be bothered with the grey. You have appointments twice a week at the hospital now. Plus a special diet. And are tired and nauseated all the time. All of the medications don’t seem to help at all. It’s been about 3 months since the surgery and transplant.

Yet you are still a miserable old angry black man. I hate how that sounds so f***ing clichéd. You still cuss out my mom. You still expect everyone to laud at your feet. You’re still arguing with everyone. You’re still ignoring everyone. You’re still a control freak with fixations on a whole pile of random, self-absorbed stuff – including a lot of “selective” reminiscing of the past; grocery store rages; fixing things around the house in inadequate ways as opposed to putting them to rest/getting an expert to fix it properly; and long-winded conspiracy theories that boil down to hating every one else ESPECIALLY BLACK PEOPLE.

But Notablackbarbie, why does this still bother you? You are 25 years old now. An adult. And should be functional on your own…

…Actually it is too late for me, nothing has changed. The anger, shame, guilt, ant hate is still there. The slamming doors are still happening. The fights about money and possessions – I pay the bills!! Well it’s MY HOUSE AND YOU ARE JUST **** STINKING UP THE PLACE!!! My sister escapes outwards. She is rarely in the house. Which also leads to more angry rambling about how worthless my mom is as well as how much of a f***up my sister is – wasting money/doing drugs/playing around with absolute foolishness.

Before I thought I used to do so much to try to make everything/everyone better. My motto was PERFECTION OR DEATH. My people pleasing/keep the peace format means I didn’t and don’t escape still and can never get away, despite more awareness. I am now too guilty and evil to leave you and mom when you both are so sick (you after surgery, mom on disability). I am forever a bad daughter. I get it. I am a screwup – as you’ve always said. I have failed. I am worthless.

Was that everything? No. There were still some nice times. Report cards called me pleasant, a delight, and bright. Looking back does bring up some happy moments. I look around and have read also that abuse exists with secrets – including isolating away from everything and everyone else. Other family members just bother “us”, so we’re not going to “waste time” going to “another damn party”. I work with children now and notice that they are close to family and friends in some way. Drama still happens. S*** will still go down. But the love/bonds/connections are ever present.

Thank you and F*** you. Thank you for your suffocating and demanding influence on my life. F*** you for all the ways the rage and beatings blinded me now from connecting with anyone. I am forever stained – the dirt was never beaten out, just ground in further. Thank you for instilling paranoia and judgment and fear of everyone. F*** you for establishing so much shame and guilt forever for just existing. Thank you for making me appear cold, standoffish, stoosh, snobby, and a loner as a protective measure so no one sees how bad I am. F*** you for lighting the fuse to so much anger I have, yet so much fear of being close. Thank you for reminding me often of how mistakes are important, I am forever behind and stupid, and just so wrong. F** you too for your hate penetrating my nightmares, and every other part of my being to the point where I am just hopelessly irresponsible, powerless, and pathetic.

I am Notablackbarbie. I work in two amazing programs with children. I am pointless. I get hugs and smiles from them throughout the day. I am selfish. I also go to school still – now at university after finishing college. I am too far behind. I try to follow SHARE – Serenity, Health, Acknowledgement, Respect, Education. I am a fraud. I never want to leave my mom and sister – I have to do more to take care of them. I am inadequate. I do go out – travelling, work, school, socializing with acquaintances. I am repulsive. I get compliments still and am progressing. I am a screwup. There are still possibilities and potential because its life. I am s***.

To you abuser, daddy dearest; as well as family as a whole. I am sorry for never doing or being any better. To everyone else, I am sorry for forever screwing up so f***ing much and am/do so bad. To HIGHER POWER ABOVE (following PC rules), involved in a lot of potential and possibility out there, I am sorry that I am an absolute worthless waste.

Sincerely,

(my name)

******************************

Could I send this out, anywhere??? There is the possibility of beating this into him, HARD, like he did a lot to me I guess. But realistically, I can’t. Nor can I SI/SH, drink, do drugs, escape, obsess, f***, fixate, or redirect this sense of forever being angry, afraid, ashamed to approach at all. T and I mutually agreed to quit because we were just going nowhere (T = “Why?”, Me = “because I am shit”, T = “How?”, Me = “Just look at me…and this is just the tip of the iceberg; the layers inside just get more and more worse…”) So at the end of the day
1. The abuse was right and correct
2. The rest just continued and continue as is.
3. And I am wrong and worthless s***

Thank you all for this space. Sorry for all of the mess above.


ETA:

And of course one/many will read and ask "So why post at all???"...because this thread stayed with me untill i finally said "**** it! i'll pour a lot of it out..."
Anybody got a bucket of bleach i can dunk myself in? Or acid? Something strong enough to burn/dissolve/wash EVERYTHING away until there is NOTHING left and i'm hopefully just all gone.