immediate family
Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.
The Wind Chimes
My mother was quite possibly the most eccentric woman you would ever meet. She had long, curly hair, the same color as the warm orange leaves during fall. She was a short woman, but she had the confidence of someone ten feet tall. When someone looked into her deep emerald eyes, they would immediately feel accepted and loved. She was feisty, and would be the first one to tell you where the door was should you have chosen to say some unwise words in her presence.
Danielle HintzPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesWhy I Stopped Talking to My Family
I always thought that I would be part of my family. I pictured going to my father's home and bringing my children over to visit with their grandfather. I pictured holidays together and spending time with my siblings and sharing memories. I always knew that my family was not very healthy. There was plenty of dysfunction to go around, and as the oldest child I was able to witness most of it. I thought for the most part that my family maybe didn't exactly like me, but they loved me. I was completely wrong. It took me many many years to realize that I was the scapegoat in my family and that the role would follow me forever. I was always blamed for things that didn't even have anything to do with me. I was punished more severely, made to feel not good enough always, and I was never praised or recognized for any accomplishment I achieved. I made every effort to make my parents and siblings see I was a good person and I deserved their love. I was always given a taste of love but never the full meal. I was always used for any money I brought in from any job I had. I was made to take care of my younger siblings and take care of my mother. I took care of the household and did everything I could to show my family how much I loved them. Sure, I was not perfect but I didn't deserve the harsh realities of being the scapegoat. When I started researching narcissistic families my whole life became so crystal clear. I finally understood that I was not the problem and that I was worthy of love. I knew that I needed to be a bit more cautious of my family. I never thought that the bitterness they held for me was so great that they would decided to try and ruin my life. It came as a complete and total shock. I must explain some back story to you before I go any further. I was so very saddened by how my family acted towards me and as a young teen I didn't understand. I dabbled in some drug use and ended up in a very harmful and abusive relationship. I managed to get my life together when I became pregnant with my daughter. I was so happy to have her that I wanted and would always vow to be the best mother to her. I had a hard time still with depression and I went to therapy. I was blessed with 2 more beautiful children; my boys a few years later. I love and treasure my kids. My kids are what I live for, and I strive and work very hard for them to have the best possible childhood they can have. I have been what I would consider a mother I wished I would have had. I never want my kids to feel how I did. I am happy and love life. Well, my family couldn't stand to see me happy with a man I love and my kids. They needed to put me down as they had done all the years prior. I was not allowed to feel happiness. How dare I? My sick family knew that my weakness and fear was not being with my children. They plotted and in such a sick way used abuse by proxy to involve my aunt in a false allegation smear campaign against me. They tried to put absurd false allegations against me with founded no proof. I was amazed at how sick they could be. The hurt and betrayal made me sick for days. I was never so angry at the pain they tried to cause me. I knew then that these people did not at all have my best interest at heart. I knew they wanted to see me fail and be so unhappy. I knew I could never look them in the face after what they did to try and ruin me. I know that it may not seem like such a big betrayal to some, but you have to understand how sneaky and deceiving this was and how completely unjustified this was. It came from nowhere and to this day I can't get over why they would do such a cruel thing. I of course tried to defend my honor while they tried to somehow make me look crazy. I knew I had to stop feeding into the craziness they created and the drama they lived for. I never wanted to be a part of that family ever again. I did not receive anything good from a relationship with them. I knew I would never be able to trust them and I knew how toxic it would be to have my babies around them. I had to go 'no contact' with them and I had to do it now. My family is my world, I would be damned if they would try and take that from me. I needed to see how evil they were, how much they did not care about me or my kids. It was finally the push I needed to stop the abuse. I have officially been no contact with the family for almost 3 months now and it still is hard sometimes. I sit and hope to see them realize they were wrong and come apologizing to me. But that is just a fantasy and I realize that is never going to be. I wouldn't let them back into my life now. I have grown so much stronger and learned so much about myself during this time. I am not going to lie. Sometimes I feel all alone. I feel a feeling of homesickness, like I don't have a family. I feel orphaned. But then I realize that I am so blessed to see them for what they are and stop the abuse. I am blessed to have found my own way and have my family. I will never understand the cruel ways of my narcissistic family but I will know that they will go to no length to try and hurt you. Education against individuals who have narcissism is the best weapon that you can hold against them. You learn the tactics they use to bring you down and you can then see who is not for you and toxic. I hope that by sharing just this one instance of the abuse I suffered, will help someone who is going through a similar experience. You have the strength to remove yourself from your family if they are doing things to hurt you. No one deserves to be put down and treated in such an abusive way. You owe your family nothing and when you walk away you begin to heal and it is so peaceful to know that it wasn't you that was the problem, instead it was them..
Ash astridPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesLife is Complicated
I’m not complaining. I know there are people out there who have it worse than I do. But, it doesn’t change the fact that life is complicated in different ways for different people. Today I am writing this because I wanted to vent more or less. So here is a look at my life over the past five months.
Harley BowersPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesEllis Island and The Fuscos
January 8th, 1893 – My name is Patrizia Fusco and I am 10-years-old. My mother, Catarina and my sisters Silvia and Katia have been travelling in what they call the steerage room for over 2 weeks. Silvia is 17-years-old and Katia is 13-years-old. I am the youngest. The steamship is crowded down here-- and dirty. Mother tells me to stay away from the other children because they have head lice. She has been caring for Silvia, who has been limping for 2 days now, because this room is so crowded someone stepped on her ankle in the middle of the night. It is blue and greenish colored.
Patti CakesPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesWater
I remember back when I drank water, but now it’s water who drinks me. A few Julys ago, my family piled in a van to head to the Arkansas River for some white water adventure. We donned our protective gear of wetsuits, splash jackets, personal floatation devices, water shoes, and helmets. Then, on the bank of the river, the guides explained the rules and safety precautions.
Crying Over Spilled Milk (Poop)
I want you guys to think of me when you have a bad day, then your day will seem so much better. I wake up on a Friday, like any other 19-year old teenager. "Yay, it's Friday fun time!" HA! No. Wrong-o! I get up out of bed and use the restroom (the night before was taco night). I went to flush, and it wouldn't flush. It's okay, I'm calm. I ask my "wonderful" husband to fix it. "Yeah babe, when I get up."
Jenonymous PagonymousPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesMy Name is Hope
I never really thought about how life could be so horrible…things were never so good for my family and I. We had to do bad things like sell drugs and rob stores just to obtain money. We stole from people who needed the money too, because where I come from the only rich folks that were around were white people. We stole from people just like us…who planned on saving that money for their kids to have a better life than their parents whom had no education. I never really knew what it felt like to be fortunate, never in my life. I’m 15-years-old and I don’t really have a name, because I don’t really know who I am or if what my poor parents named me fits who I am. They named me Hope, not because they liked how it sounded slipping off their tongues, but because they hoped that I was going to be their little hope, their sunshine in the darkness, but unfortunately, I’m not; and I’m so sorry to my mom and dad for that. Growing up, I was never happy, but my mom would always try her best to make sure I was. She tried and tried without success, so she eventually gave up, but that’s okay she gave up. Moms do get tired sometimes and it’s not her fault that her little hope is a train wreck of a human being. I’ve been in and out of court so many times and dropped back to my little tent of a house after getting arrested for stealing liquor to resell at a higher price, just so I can get some food on the table for my family, not that nasty kind of food either. The times they put me on probation the P.O. (Parole Officer) always insisted that I take a drug and alcohol test, which was completely useless because I’m not interested in doing drugs at all. I’ve never tried any kind. Growing up like me, it’s a gift not having the urge to do drugs and drink poison, but that doesn’t mean I won’t sell them to make that extra cash. I started selling dope when I was 14 and not the weed kind. The white, rocky, sometimes powdery substance — yes just a year ago, boohoo. I started selling coke for this really scary rich white man, only because he told me he’d get me deported along with my family, if I didn’t. This white man was very intimidating, but he was nice enough to give me 50% of the profit from the coke, because he knew I lived on the streets. I think the worst part about selling drugs and alcohol was being on a corner selling them. A corner across the street from my mom. I watched her get picked up by strange men at a certain time of the night, but these strange men would always bring her back to the same spot and sometimes she would be badly bruised and hurt. My mom…she’s tough. Despite being in so much pain, she’d laugh it off and wave her cash at me from across the street. While I was selling drugs and alcohol, she was selling something much more expensive, divine, real, and too precious…her body. I didn’t agree with it at all, but I couldn’t say anything or else my dad’s drunk self would get very mad at me and try to kill me like all the other times. My Pops loved me at one point, but right when things started getting harder, he faded away faster. Drowning himself in liquor and letting his lungs be invaded with methamphetamine a.k.a. crystal meth. Sometimes he wouldn’t sleep for days on and he would start talking to someone that wasn’t there; he called him death. Though it was scary to watch this, I got used to it and stopped caring. I’d even give him liquor. I stole to shut him up sometimes. The thing about me is…as I grew up I started feeling this numbness that eventually grew. I can’t feel pain, no regret, and no sadness or grief. I’d still tell my mom and dad I loved them every day, though only because I was hoping they’d say it back sometimes, just to see if it could make me feel anything at all, that maybe they could fix how broken I am with a simple ‘I love you too,’ but no. Not once did I ever hear it again, because I took their love for granted. How could a prostitute who probably has no idea who my real father is ever love me anyways? How can a junkie, who'd rather talk to his beloved death rather than his whatever the fuck I am to him, ever love me anyways? When I realized everything I’ve ever done for my parents was completely useless to me, I started not going home. I started completely hating myself for everything. I’m a genius, I know I am, but I messed up my future by trying too hard for my parents, trying too hard to get them out of their unsuccessfulness, that I became unsuccessful myself. Who I am is definitely not hope. Don’t do things for people who don’t care about you, it’s only going to get you nowhere.
Raven WoodsPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesPeople Pleaser
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" said my teacher. That was an easy question for me. I had known the answer since preschool, the early age when you first begin to understand that people have jobs. I may not have understood the complexities of a career, but I knew that people spent a lot of time there, so if I was going to pick something to do with the rest of my life it was going to be something that made me happy.
Matthew EylerPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesLiving With or Without Parents
First of all let me explain a few things. I was born to 2 kids. My dad was 20 years old & my mother was 16 and month shy of being 17. Babies raising babies.
Donna GonzalesPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesMother of the Year
Have you ever met that one person that you absolutely cringe at the sound of their name..? Well to me that person is my mother.
Madeline O'NeillPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesYou Were Only a Little Abused
"I'm so sorry, Mom," I cried. These words frequently echoed off my lips, resounding in a deafening silence from my mother. Most kids in my generation feared being grounded, losing privileges, or some form of physical beating, but I would have preferred those over what my mom typically had in store for me. I would have understood being sentenced to sit silently in my room. That was a punishment that most, if not all, kids went through. I would have understood not being allowed to watch TV or to use the computer, for those were good things that I, in my bad behavior, didn't deserve. And even a spanking with the wooden spoon...I'm not justifying physical violence or abuse, but at least these consequences would have been more typical of the average kid in the 90s.
Matthew EylerPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesI Have 13 Siblings
My name is Daniel. I have ten brothers and three sisters. I'll just answer the questions you would ask in person first. All from the same parents. No twins. Yes, they're done having kids. I'm the fifth oldest. There was always someone to spend time with. I'm currently the oldest at home. I've talked about my family a lot, so I know that's usually where the topic dies until I'm told about your mom's or dad's equally-abnormally-large family that's almost as large.
Daniel BowersPublished 7 years ago in Families