Friends and Family

So, here’s my immediate family.

My father is a narcissist who cares primarily about money and reputation. He wants to be king of the castle, worshipped for doing the minimum and nothing else.

My step-mother is bi-polar, blonde, blue eyed, super-feminine, and the complete anti-thesis of me. She planted the seeds of self-loathing in me when I wasn’t interested enough (for her) in makeup, hair, and dating when I was barely past puberty.

My mother is more like a sister than a parent. She has always given me unconditional love, but could never protect or get her life together enough to support me. She is completely indigent and has no seeming awareness of or care for her future.

If you put them all together, I’d have one functional, loving parent. But instead I have zero. I don’t know how to get over this.

So I look for love and support in the wrong places. The people I call my friends. I have a problem in which I assume my friendship means more to other people than it really does. I assume I mean as much to them as they do to me. I don’t. I should have understood this years ago when the person I called my best friend since middle school couldn’t remember where or when we’d met.

I’ve had some awkward situations recently where I realise I have been putting way, way too much importance on the smallest interactions with my current friends. I hinge upon their every word, and see slights or dismissals everywhere. I hoard up these slights for unproductive rumination.

I’ve got my head up my a55 so far it’s starting to come back out my neck.

I feel trapped. I don’t know how to unfack my head. How do I get rid of this simmering resentment, this melodramatic victimhood I wrap myself in? I may be more like my father than I ever knew, narcissistic and unable to enjoy life without people falling all over me. I’m special and unique, and if I just tried hard enough I’d be suuuper good at everything I try. /sarcasm

I am a clusterfack of childhood abuse and gender issues and mental illness, unable to mature fully, while living under the false pretense that I am self-aware and trying to improve myself. I feel like weeping but I am dried up on the inside, filled with hurt and resentment and astounding amounts of child-like “it’s not fair” butthurt.

What do I do? What the he11 do I do.


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