My parents have always been abusive and neglectful. For starters, my mother was more worried about following Biblical scripture in front of others rather than showing it to us. She’d have us at church all days of the week, but then at home just lay around and/or have emotional outbursts. She’d even have the outbursts in front of others. I would have to try and handle her as if she were a toddler, even at a young age. Her only happiness came from getting patted on the back. I even remember her scream singing in church so people could hopefully hear her and compliment her on her singing. Knowing what I know now, I know she has some sort of mental disorder, but she’s never gotten help.

My father is an intellectually dim and abusive man. He is an ex-alcoholic who turned to hydrocodone before I was born. He “hurt” his back, and started popping them. He takes 2-4 a day and has since I was a baby. He would verbally and physically abuse me, and gaslight me when I’d confront him for doing it. He’s slapped me, hit me, pushed me, and even tried to hit me with a guitar. He also is highly narcissistic, and will talk to anyone who sits long enough to hear him. He was never there for me or my sister, because he was too drugged up or in “pain”. 

As an icing on the cake, my mother and father were both hoarders, and I lived in a home where I walked around trash all day. My dad would blame my mom for being lazy, yet he’d never help. He’d just take his pain meds and pass out.

I left when I was barely 18, and am now 30. I have a family of my own, but the grief this time of year brings is so painful. They never have accepted help, and don’t make any effort to get to know their grandchildren. 

The last straw came five years ago when I said I’d drive to see them for Thanksgiving with our child (husband was deployed at the time). I said the house had to be clean for us to visit, as I had severe asthma, and my child was a baby. She assured me it’d be clean, but when the time came—after I had driven 12 hours—the house was a pigsty. I had to spend $150 on a hotel.

All to say, I hate having toxic parents. Today the grief hit me. Out of nowhere. Since then my depression has been through the roof.

Anyone else mourning parents who are still alive, or grieving over the parents you never got to have?