I didn't realize I had been abused and neglected until I was well into therapy. How's that for F-ed up? For me, it was just my life. Living in constant terror and being alone as a kid became my way of life, so I suppose I developed ways to cope with it. Through therapy, I slowly started to see my childhood through new eyes. It was then that I lost the ability to interact with my family, especially my parents. They both steadfastly insist there was no abuse or neglect, and then turn around to blame the abuse on the other one. Like you, both my parents ignored my needs as an adult, seeing only what they wanted to see. Because if they saw what was really there - depression, aloneness, messed up attachment, suicidality - they would have had to accept that their vision of my childhood was BS. As they aged, they both wanted, in their own ways, for me to take care of them and absolve them of the sins they insist they didn't commit. So my choice became this: Tell them my whole story in graphic detail and say "This is yours. Own it or not", which of course isn't possible, right? Their own shame in their lives could never allow that. By not owning it, they would be hurting me all over again. Making me re-question my right to be scarred up and hurt, to be in therapy, to be valued and loved; it would make my issues a reflection of my weakness, not their abuse. Feed my shame. The other choice is to accept my life and their role in it, and to struggle to calm the scars down. Within that struggle, I find no healing role for my family.

I'm not trying to convince you one way or another. I'm just sharing this part of my story to help you understand that you're not alone in what you face.