not safe

TW: anxiety emotional abuse ableism self harm

 

My parents are coming today. They will be here in about eight hours and I’ve barely cleaned the house, not that it matters, and I’m at the point where i consider barring the door and not letting them in (they have a key because they own the house so). I had the whole day/night free to clean the house to their standards (not that it matters,  because nothing is ever good enough), and instead I’ve been crying or eating icecream and reading mindless books that I still cant foollow but the act of reading makes me feel safer because its something i used to like.

 

When my brother came out, it was quickly apparent he had transitioned and was living as a male to everyone but us for long enough that he’d been able to formally register the change on his birth certificate. My mum said “I should have known, the bathroom was a mess and only boys have mess like that.” I am scared if my house is not clean enough my mum will kick me out for not being straight.

I tried to pay the phone bill, back when I had a job and money. My mum yelled at me because it messed up her budget.

I was in brutal pain, my parents rushed up because I let them know I wouldn’t be ringing because I was at the hospital and they rang the hospital to yell at them because my phone was off because this was when they still thought mobile phones messed with monitors. My mum yelled at me for not having done the dishes for six weeks. It’s been five months. I don’t formally do the dishes. I wash what I need to use. My mum claims she would never yell at me because she understands.

 

My mum used to sit me down and tell me my grandmother’s strokes were all in her head and if she just got up and walked down to the chookshed and back five times a day her diseased hip replacement would heal just fine.

I have to choose between going to class and going to the musical my parents are coming to see, and I cannot get that through to them. For the last month, I have only left the house to go to class. The day after I flop and I can’t move, my legs burn and I fall over. I have to choose between class and the musical. I told my mum I wasn’t going to class and she yelled at me. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT. YOU SHOULD DO WHAT YOU WANT. WE CAN WORK AROUND YOU.

 

One time a coat hanger broke and the clothes fell on my head. I was putting it back and my dad ran in and grabbed me and tore all the clothes off the hangers and pushed me over.

“I heard a noise and you were hurt,” he said.

The day before I had been trapped in the toilet because the door got stuck and he didn’t come.

We were sitting on a bench having a picnic and I started standing up to take the rubbish to the bin. A hand flashed behind me and I spun, jumping away from the attack.

“Your corset laces were going to catch on the seat,” he said. They hadn’t caught. I manage to not get the laces caught for the eleven and a half months he is not here.

 

 

“I’m so sick of the same food all the time,” my mum said.

I bought extra of everything so she could have something different and it would be safe for me.

She had silverside from the supermarket deli. “It looked so nice, though.” I had to throw out $100 of vegan meat replacements.

(Side note for a flashback. At work, they switched the fridge over and my food ended up either in the bin or the freezer, rending it all useliess. I was upset, I had a cry, and got back to work. I was not allowed to work until she made me tell her why I had been crying. She reached out over the table and grabbed my hand and I wasn’t allowed to pull away. “But you have to have special food! It’s so expensive!”)

I kept a saucepan aside for their soup, which has milk in. She used mine, which until then had been dairy free, even though the saucepan for her was literally sitting on the element ready to be used. This was before they refused to replace my oven because it’s too hard. Now we cannot have separate meals, so I have to cook every meal. The last time I was not awake when they were, I got up to find there was no water and my dad had chosen a replacement water filter which is in line with the tap I can’t use because I can’t control it with my hands.

 

I have been crying all night.

 

I have asked for help. I have tried to explain to my psychiatrist that I would get home after a fourteen hour day and have to relay each instance of abuse to my parents, only to be told “well I can see both sides, you need to try better” and “just think of the money everyone has to put up with that” and so on. I didn’t get any time to myself before I had to sleep. Sometimes it meant I had no food until I got to work again. Separate from how they have kept me financially dependent on them, while at the same time yelling at me for being dependent, they participated in and perpetuated what I went through at work. Even now, they do it.

 

“I can only do one of these things. You got angry with me for skipping class, so you will have to go by yourself.” I want to say this. Last time I went with them to a musical, they got shitty with me because we got there early and it was too hard to sit and wait. They stood there and watched as some lady assaulted me in the train station. My dad mansplained my cosplay and my disability to a lady on the train.

I did not want to take the train.

My mum also ran off on us twice. They wouldn’t sit down while I got drinks, so I had to go tothe vending machine carrying three bags and my costume, then the machine was out of change and mum pushed me aside, yelling “DO YOU NEED MONEY” and trying to shove a ten dollar note in the machine. I had asked them to sit down. They did not.

 

I do not want them here. I do not want them here. I do not want them here.

 

I find myself wishing they would crash on the freeway. Nobody would be able to tell me, because I don’t use the phone now, and they would just never come up. If they died, I would have to go to a man who I used to work with, a task my psychiatrist flat out stated I am not ready for even though my parents dragged me in to sign the papers, even after mum caught me cutting in the bathroom.

 

I am 30 years old, financially dependent on my parents, dependent on them for a place to live, they bully and harass me, and because they do not hit me, nobody will listen. I have nowhere else to go. My psychiatrist is at a loss to work out why I’m not better because I’m not at work any more. I have tried to tell him that I am not out of the situation I was in. I tried.

 

I don’t know what else to do. One time I asked them to stay in a hotel. Mum agreed, and then two weeks before said she was staying here and I reminded her about the hotel and she said “oh I decided not to because then I won’t see you and it’s too late now anyway”.

 

I don’t want them here. I don’t want to have to drag myself out of bed every day to be ignored on skype. I don’t want them here. I don’t want anything to do with them.

 

When they cut my brother off, he had a job and was able to make up the rent. If they cut me off, I will have nowhere to go. I will lose my phone and my internet, so I will have no way to communicate with anyone. People don’t think of parent/child abuse when they think of domestic violence, not at my age.

 

The first time it came up in a psychology session I told my mum it had come up and it was a concern.

She laughed. “We’re just close. People aren’t used to that any more.”

 

I’m grateful I have a place to live. I am not grateful that the cost of it is my mental health.

 

They come up and I lose all my support system, my routine, everything.

 

I don’t want them here.

I can’t stop crying. I know I have to clean the house. I have 18 minutes to get the recycling bin out. I will be yelled at for having cardboard boxes in the garage. They have arranged a man to come and measure the garage door even though it is too expensive to fix. They were meant to do it months ago, because my dad has to be here for the install. I can’t do it, because they took away my power of attorney so I can’t make decisions about the house. I don’t know who the man is, and they do not understand that having strangers coming into the house while I am asleep makes me feel unsafe.

 

My mum yelled at me when my dad set up a shelf in the passageway and didn’t tell me and I walked out of my room and started crying. There was a big black thing right there. For hours she kept saying “just say what’s wrong and dad will fix it”. I took it down. She wouldn’t leave me alone.

I had to fix the car and I took a break for a drink and to stretch my back “It’s too hard for you let your dad help” He yelled at me because I burst into tears when he was the one to fix it. My car is my lifeline. I am the only one allowed to fix him, because that makes me confident he will do what I need him to. I went to take another break after, meaning to finish it after they left. My mum wouldn’t stop asking about letting dad help finish it until I snapped and finished it in my pyjamas so I wouldn’t have to be in the same room as her.

She rearranged the bathroom without telling me, making it so I couldn’t do it myself.

I put drawers out in the lounge room. She put them in her cupboard and put her clothes in them.

 

I don’t want them here. I tell them, and they don’t listen. I say I have to compromise so that I have spoons to deal with them, and they yell at me. “We won’t come up if you give up things because we’re here.” But they never do that.

 

“Do you want to go to bed?” mum always says. That’s the only concession she makes for me. She asks ALL THE TIME. I can’t trust them if I can’t see them. I am scared to sleep when they are here.

 

I need help. None of the crisis housing services are accessible for me. I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop crying. I have to clean. I have to put all my soft toys away so they don’t get smoke on them, because knowing it makes me sick, my mum smokes in the house. Then she yells at me for opening a window.

 

I spent an hour washing the dye out of my hair. I have to hide my tattoo. I miss the days when my dad wouldn’t touch me because I had piercings. I tell them it hurts and not to touch me but then they go “I haven’t had my hug yet” and pull me in. My dad kisses my neck and my shoulder. They yank on my bad shoulder, the one that hurts more if I use it.

 

I still remember my dad sitting in his chair. “It’s too hard you have to understand. It’s hard for me that you don’t talk.” He also said “you have to learn to be independent because I might die and then you’ll have nothing and I want to enjoy my retirement rather than pay for you.”

Mum keeps joking that she’s going to leave him and move in with me. He’s sick, you see, because he had a heart attack once. Mum forgets things an hour after I tell her, and then says she doesn’t have anything wrong with her. She once spent a weekend in the ER with a blood nose, then refused to have tests because she didn’t want to know what was wrong.

I’m left with the fallout.

 

I don’t want them here. I don’t want to be here with them. I can’t trust them here alone. My mum used to go into my room when I was at school and take half my toys and go through my drawers and throw things out that she decided I didn’t need any more. She keeps saying “we have to help you clean”. It’s the same way she says “you’ll change your mind when you meet a nice man” when I remind her that I’m ace. It’s the same way they talk over my head, guessing at what i’m doig becase “it’s so fascinationg” and “never seen anything like it”. I’m not included i these convesations becuase i can’t talk. I feel like a zoo animal.

 

Today is day 9 of migraine-with-fever. My temperature is now 37.5.

 

I don’t want them here.

 

I didn’t want to even go to the show, but I read a rewview anda now i kind of do, but not with them. My parents are the kind o be like “I don’t understand explain it to me” halfway through the first act.

 

I don’t want them here i don’t want them here i dont feel safe i dont have a way out i need help

 

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