Hello from San Diego! Due to my criticism of the current US president, I am no longer welcome at R*ddit, so I hope we can get conversations going here.

I wasted my tween and teen years in a family consisting of my narcissist, alcoholic mother, Golden Child insufferable little brother, and passive enabling stepdad. Here is just a part of my story.

I was kept from doing anything outside of school; nMom proudly told everyone she was an "overprotective mother" though GCBro got to run wild. And of course, she called me every name in the book because I wasn't "normal" and social. Where and how would I have had any social opportunities, when my curfew was whenever school ended? And the kicker: the house was used as a warehouse for their used book business, so I was unable to have anyone over anyway.

Fast forward to senior year. After years of being told "no girl will ever date you," now suddenly it's "you're going to prom, right? Don't embarrass me by not going to prom!" I pointed out that I couldn't get a date. You know, I probably could have. There was a girl who sort of liked me. But then I explained to nMom what prom entails. I'd need a tuxedo, probably a limousine, definitely a nice dinner somewhere.

Her response: "Balls!" Then she outlined my big prom night. I'd wear a light blue leisure suit. Stepdad would drive us in the family car (a 1973 Chevy Vega). Not a lot of money needed to be expended on the likes of me.

Needless to say, I declined. And to push the knife in a little, I went to my usual karate workout as if nothing were different. So what did nMom do?

SHE OUTED ME. One of her coworkers was the mother of one of our nicer football players, and nMom told her I didn't go to prom because I was gay. I got funny looks and not-quite-aggressive double entendres for the rest of the school year, and was relieved to graduate and start college (I was still only 17 and so couldn't go anywhere).

So that's one of many egregious harms done me by a narc. I was outed by my mother and I'm not even gay.

(This is a pattern that has been going on for a lonnnng time so I don't think I can write it off as early dementia.)

Basically, my mother wants me to come visit her more, talk to her on the phone more, but she disagrees with every single thing I say. If I'm passionate about something, I'm wrong. If I found a new great band, they're bad. If I like a book, that genre sucks. If I dye my hair, that colour looks too dark, but if I dye it back, it was better before. So naturally, I have started to share less and less. Then she gets snarky at me for not sharing anything. But when I do, it's wrong. Apparently, if I enjoy a singer that SHE HERSELF likes, I'm wrong about that too. And if I dare to ask a rude question like "what did you do this weekend?" she'll snap at me that she's sick, so not a damn thing of course. How dare I.

Why does she nag me through voice messages and texts to come visit, if she dislikes everything about me and every word that comes out of my mouth?! I feel bad, because she's physically very frail and limited and could have anywhere between 6 months and 2 years left. But since every interaction with her gets toxic, I want to have as few of them as possible.

Has anyone been in a similar situation and how did you cope?

My life partner just triggered me again with his financial abuse he's doing a great job of doing BuT tHiS iS cOmPaSsIoN! No, seriously, this is specifically triggering, because as I just identified being mindful while my anger is triggered, this is more brianization

Brianize (v) - when you cause the problems you hit your child for

This stirred to mind just as other shit my compassionate life partner has done that is literally indistinguishable from narcissistic manipulation has stirred up imagery of getting six spankings for peeing my pants waiting for my dad to finish masturbating in the bathroom, this example is about a time shortly after my dad sold the Cadillac so he could piss my mom's life insurance money away to one-up his mom, when he lost a shitload of money in the stockmarket and his gold digger addiction.

I was standing in the kitchen entryway while he held a cigarette in his fingers while shitting in my soul, about how ungrateful and irresponsible I was, just like my diseased removed of a mother; what nerve I had back then! But he's talking about stocks, and y'know even back then, with my mother's intuition, I knew he was throwing his money away. And I'm silent as I heard all the bad things I caused in the world, but I see his fucking cigarette is half ash, and he sees me see it, and it pisses him off, and he flicks it out of his fingers, saying he doesn't care.

Well, given how hard he smacked me in the head and how long he took away video games, I would say he did, in fact, give quite a big shit about setting the kitchen tablecloth on fire. Likewise the reason I didn't feel comfortable telling him I needed supplies for an English project that led to me getting a D and him slamming my head into the car window, as happened at some frequency.

And I guarantee these were just another day for him. He doesn't remember it at all. I remember him doing what I now know is gaslighting when I was sixteen or seventeen and the conversation around a board game led to him telling me the DAY HE DESTROYED EVERYTHING MY MOTHER EVER MADE ME never happened. Oh, I must have imagined it. What she made me. It must have all been a dream.

BUT WAIT! When he kicked me out of his house to be homeless (for three years!) for breaking the microwave and having a panic attack upstairs to put a hole in the wall because I knew hell was coming for the microwave, he ACKNOWLEDGED he did that...by saying how he hated that I made him do that.

Hang on...I just had a realization! Lemme copy paste these texts I sent him last.

Oh, you misunderstood me. I'm prescribing you being uncomfortable, as that IS the medicine. I learned that in that "cult" that was really a government reconditioning program that rewired my dopaminergic pathways so video games are no longer fun. Why I write so much, and I'm grateful because, I don't know if you remember this, but I had that breakdown in college where I told my ROTC cadre that my sister got me pregnant, because Klinger, obviously, and the reason I had that breakdown where I faked schizophrenia is because when my mother died, instead of my father getting me therapy or ANYTHING, he jumped on an eighteen year old after my mother passed away. I bet that was real good sex when you had me sit by myself in [Redacted] apartment with her ballsack cat that attacked me while I was in there and you yelled at me.

But as far as progress goes, I confronted my negligent, narcissistic father who is so fucking dense that this is now the FOURTH FUCKING TIME I TOLD YOU THAT I FAKED SCHIZOPHRENIA BECAUSE I JUDGED YOUR WRATH MORE OF A THREAT THAN THE UNITED STATES MILITARY, you dense log.

But I love you, which is why I forgive you will how uncouth your reveal that a beloved family member died that I knew was in Florida because I talk with my family and I lost contact with her again because homelessness, which was the best thing that ever happened to me before [Redacted].

But this is bizarre to you? As in, this is so outside of normal that you cannot parse any meaning from it because you're prejudiced against your own son? Yea, that is how I was trained.

It's not the CIA, it's the FBI. I naturally perform a role for them as they are always listening to my phone because I had some significant fuck ups along the life I've had to live with literally zero parental guidance since my one died.

Note: I said guidance, as in, what wisdom have you ever spoken to me? What life lessons have I learned because of you? You sent me a reply to an email once which was the best you can do because the thing about the brain is it only uses the parts you use, and so I understand what you send me all the time is what you THINK love is, because that's what your parents taught you, and you're still defining your whole life by them because somehow that's the thing that pisses off most about what I've sent.

There's this thing called dazzle camouflage. I just like as I do ever do i say I am the thing of all the workd as good be at are was and you think that I don't do shit like that intentionally to see where you are, objectively - there's a cornerstone to ethics - in your own spiritual healing.

When's the last time you saved a person's life? For me, it was last Tuesday. Cuz I perform this role - I don't have a job because I lose my shit every day [Redacted] is doing what he does so I don't do what I learned from you and starting spitting venom when I'm slightly miffed about something - and for this role, I authentically express myself as a "schizoaffective*" person, and this catches people who resonate with what I say and go on to excavate, which you were supposed to when I made that "whirlpool" as I've been taught to get you to go digging to find out what I genuinely do with my life, but you're prejudiced against your own son, so everything I say gets thrown away before you're even done reading it.

*I tell doctors what the military industrial complex does to me, completely totally honest about what I experience, and they listen about as close as you do to understand this isn't psychosis you dense log.

Maybe if I keep repeating myself, it will click in that dense log's mind that he hurt someone and takes no responsibility for his actions. Even now, your brain is going overdrive to flatten me in words instead of even caring about me. It was more important that you're right than you care.

For clarity, I thought [Redacted] was going to be my new mom. I thought they all were. Maybe Learn what empathy is

[Redacted]

And I don't know if you do that weekly occurrence where you get upset before work and made [Redacted] cry fairly frequently, or if you're aware you even did/do that, but you seem like the same person as when I last saw you in person. Nice slope.

Oh, I just remembered something. You remember when you sent me that video of my one race that was just before [Redacted] was born. Yea. I didn't have many positive family memories at that time of my life to form those type of neural connections to be excited about remembering that. Who knew? Maybe you would have thrown [Redacted] away too. Or which way did your relationships fail, I don't remember; I was so young when I lost my mother five times. Or HoWeVeR mAnY tHeRe WeRe

Is your mom dead? Nah, obviously not, you'd be celebrating her passing for a year. I would mourn yours, but then again I CHOOSE to do the spiritual work to heal, so I am not like my father before me. I would never throw you away, or if you were in need I'd offer my shoulder to cry on and all the words I can muster. I have fucking beg you for any of your "wisdom."

Oh, the reason I am disabled is my emotional dysregulation. [Redacted] is helping immensely in that facet, making me extraordinarily uncomfortable as he does things a negligent father would do to trigger me, and each time I let go of those traumas even more. I invented this word, brianizing, which is concisely defined as when you hit your child because they pee'd their pants because you were too busy jacking off in the bathroom, but that's just a fun example I use to describe the long-standing patterns of my childhood. I was too young to know what masturbation was back then, but the idea stands that there was at least one time you gave me six HARD spankings because I pee'd myself because you were in the bathroom.

I got you the Hitchhiker Guide books because of something I was reading in the third book at the exact same time you were regaling others with your 85er* theory. What was the one book I showed you? The one of the Syracuse author I met and talked with about this exact scenario, where you were removed at me for something and I handed you this book, Speak, and you said the most God awful thing that was the epitome of why I showed you that book.**

...

*y'know, he said the bottom 85% of the population, intellectually, could be wiped out, and it would not effect the top of the food chain

**This is a bluff, but that night I showed him Speak did happen. Lotta Assemblage 23 that night.

But is this crazy? I don't know. He's not talking to me. That's fine. I'll be there for him whenever, even in that restaurant at the end of the universe called Heaven, where he will be in the Hell he created for himself.

Pic related: it's me in a trash can with my women's jacket, cute purse, and Peppermint, my pink penguin plushie friend that was with me all through my time living outdoors. I was bringing awareness to homelessness while authentically expressing myself as my superiors on up to God taught me to do.

I'm trying to help my family through their grieving process. I don't even know if they lost someone. They say they were going to a long time ago, and posted pictures, but my family shuns me, the black sheep. So, I try to reach them how I can, through my father. I know he's not communicating with them about me. So, I get a little antsy on Facebook while creating an effect I know as a "whirlpool" on X, where I link them stuff that has very specifically interesting information with skillful goading of them with hints of more personally interesting information in other threads, and everyone ignores me. So, I do a heavy push, saying this on my brother's senior ball picture:

...

I remember my senior ball. I was manipulated by a girl in my class to think I had a date, but she never had those intentions. She was the type of girl that grows up to be a woman that stalks dating websites for idiot boys pretending to be men, flashing their money about.

Well, y'know, I certainly didn't get anything meaningful to rise in my life from my grandparents either, but then again, I lost my entire family at age thirteen because the narcissist who would come to live vicariously through me for my writing couldn't compete with how shitty they were, so he set off on his own bullshit, which he "perfected" in a years time to land the mother of his child, as he applied a fundamentally different approach to dating than he met that woman as young as his one child is now two months after his 39-yo walking disease of a wife passed.

I don't know who she was, really. She taught me to love though, so while the 85er machinations of my father were going on at the same time I was reading the third book from the Hitchhiker's Guide series (heh [I sent him these books for his birthday]), I was developing an understanding of higher truths of reality that even now, I look back at the time that I defined my "self" as being a broken mirror with shards in an erratic orbit around my soul, with four distinct parts:

The wounded child (Greg)

The learning scholar (Elwood)

The waiting, vengeful god (Valmar; ask my dad about the "wolf's head" I would draw in the mirror)

The bound and chained (what I thought was the psycho I could release of I ever needed to kill someone, but really was my repressed gay, effeminate side)

Of course, my MySpace URL proves that. But what does [Redacted] think about? I know I never told anyone in my house what I was genuinely feeling, and y'know, I didn't know my book Of Vic and Vince, and how the best laid plans of Vic and Vince oft go awry, was a direct reference to Of Mice and Men until like a week ago, cuz iceberg consciousness.

But, obviously, we're equals in how we can perceive n undo the karmic fetters that bind us to the existence-illusion complex to understand what is meant by "God is a unified field of consciousness that arose from the supersymmetry of the ever-present, eternal emptiness to then fold in and on Itself across eleven dimensions to form a topological matrix that acts as a monadic nodal communication system," obviously.

Looking forward to death, cuz then I Know what I'm getting. And I do Know what is meant by "consciousness is the base substance of reality."

Holodeck, y'know? Rick and Morty has "Roy."

https://youtu.be/szzVlQ653as

[Snip; was heartfelt close with personal information]

...

So, you see how serious I am about making contact with my family? I KNOW I can help them! I'm a shaman. My mom died at age nine and then I was horribly abused by a man that genuinely did heal and grow before starting his second family, but still helped hurt his second son, that I also hurt being an out of control rageaholic drug addict that fell apart in college because I did not have ANY parental guidance.

And that soured my whole life, y'know? But I don't say that in a mean tone. I have no closure. My father doesn't speak to me. He posts about the weather six times a week (he takes the sabbath off from his excruciating social media obligation). He never has real money. I mean, he has more than me, but I can't work because I headbutt holes in my own fucking wall because my life partner lied to me about having HIV and a warrant to control me (he has neither), but y'know, I understand death isn't the end.

I KNOW this! I understand what is causing the shadows on the cave wall. It makes complete logical sense, the nature of how axiom and category are born from the orthogonal relativity of our topological matrix. And I can explain that, perhaps not to a five year old, but definitely to my newly adult brother.

I don't know if the first thing I would say to him would alleviate anything, just as I don't know if the letters I wrote to him hearing only parts of his mental health troubles did help, but no one talks to me. I don't know why. Yea, I can get mouthy. WHAT FATHER OF A CHILD CANNOT SPEAK WISDOM TO THEIR OWN BLOOD WHEN APPROACHED WITH THE VERBAL CAPACITY AS IN THESE PARAGRAPHS? Perhaps I have been uncouth in the past about HOW I have approached them. But they don't even reply, so I learn nothing.

Did they even read my words, or go on to listen to the man who was SIGNIFICANTLY more of a monster twenty years ago, before he met his second family and wised up when his older son called the cops on his bullshit violent, narcissistic behavior? I DON'T KNOW! What I do know, was that before I left, he made his mother of his child cry on a weekly basis before storming off in the morning for work where he would come home to brag about how he told his incompetent subordinates off.

And my life may be permenantly ruined because I judged his wrath more of a threat than the United States military and lied to them in a clearly false (and hilarious) manner that made them start using me for counterintelligence purposes (they fuck with me and I report on it BeCaUsE i'M sChIzOpHrEnIc WiTh 147Iq!). But I'm not a victim.

I don't blame my father for anything. He us ABSOLUTELY the CAUSE of much of my suffering, but I forgive him totally. Still, I love him, so I worry what he's going to do when he gets to Heaven and remeets both my mother AND the 18yo he jumped on two months after she died.

Crossposted from https://piefed.ca/c/politics/p/554578/how-did-epstein-ensnare-so-many-rich-men-by-knowing-they-were-entitled-and-insecure

The sex offender could exploit these masters of the universe ​because, despite their privilege, ​they still felt short-changed by life, says Guardian columnist Emma Brockes

One of the things that has been frequently puzzled over as the effluent of the Epstein story flows on, is how a college dropout who thought it was cool to do typos managed to persuade the world’s most powerful into his lair. What, precisely, was the nature of his “genius”? Was it blackmail? Was it the social pyramid scheme of using one big name to reel in another? Nothing has come close to explaining it until, with the latest crop of details from the Epstein files, something has become suddenly clear: that it wasn’t the trafficked girls and women who Jeffrey Epstein groomed. The man’s real talent, if we want to call it that, was in the grooming of his cohort of associates.

This isn’t to say, of course, that the men and occasional woman who threw in their lot with a man we must straight-facedly refer to as “the dead paedophile” weren’t culpable. Nonetheless, if you study the huge amount of Epstein-related material, from the New York Times’s deep dive into his finances to the vast cache of correspondence contained in the files, a picture emerges of a man who did the kind of number on his peers that you would more commonly see directed at victims. While multiple survivor testimonies indicate that Epstein regarded the girls and women he trafficked as of such low consequence he didn’t even need to bother to groom them – per Virginia Giuffre’s account, Epstein raped her the first time they met – all of his resources, via a variety of tactics, went into capturing the allegiances of powerful men.

MBFC
Archive

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As a kid, I always hated when my mom brushed my hair, it was always extremely painful, she'd yank chunks of hair out of my scalp, make my ears red and irritated, burn me with the dryer/iron

I used to think she just didn't know how to make it not hurt or was just clumsy, my hair was long and I was little...

But I recently let her do it again for a formal function as an adult, with my partner in the room. (Because I told him she was always rough with it)

And it didn't hurt... she put her hand up to protect my scalp, she didn't yank, or tug too hard, or burn me, or make me almost cry.

Which means she always knew. She could've always been gentle... she just chose to hurt me instead.

When I was a kid I lived with my dad and stepmom and visited my biological mother every two weekends. During the summer I would go to my biological mom’s house for one month. When I was around 12 years old I went to my mom’s house for the one month in the summer. During that time, my stepmom got my dad, my half brother, and her parents, took them to Sears, and had a family portrait done. She then framed those photos and had them displayed in the house.

Imagine looking at the family portrait every single day and you’re not in it. Even with all the three hour lectures that would start at 11pm on a school night and including fun things like hair pulling, slapping, hitting, and a belt, I think the family portrait thing might have fucked me up the most.

I’ve been NC for 10 years now. I’m 46. I didn’t know there was a name for what I went through or that a lot of other people had the same situation until I was in my 30’s.

Hey everyone,

My name is Jennifer and I wanted to share something important with you all today. I am a postdoctoral researcher and trauma survivor. I was raised by narcissists and suffered abuse at their hands for 20+ years. I recently ran away from them and decided to tell my story and raise awareness to help others protect themselves.

Mental abuse and the dangers of narcissism are topics that affect so many lives, and we must raise awareness about them. Remember, manipulation can occur anywhere - in relationships and professional settings, so it is essential to shed light on these issues.

https://www.youtube.com/@egonextdoor

I heard this quote recently and it really resonated with me. I went no contact with my family 3 years ago and I have enough distance now that I've grown around the pain enough to be less destabilized when I miss them. But even though I miss them and struggle to fully understand that feeling sometimes, I know that if I were to ever give them another chance, this quote will live in my head to help guide the conversations and aid my judgement.

This helped me detect that I was changing my boundaries when trying to please someone recently. That tipped me off to recognizing I was people pleasing and they were toxic.

Not sure if this will help anyone else but it definitely resonated with me and helped to keep in the back of my mind as I still struggle to learn to have healthy boundaries.

I think in my case this is a combination of 2 factors: having very self-absorbed parents (I would classify one as non-N and one as N) who really just didn't give a crap about my interests or inner life most of the time, plus one symptom of my being on the spectrum is that one very specific input wire is pulled and I have trouble 'just knowing' whether somebody likes/dislikes me assuming they have any talent at pretending to be friendly and want to hide any dislike. Like I think most people have a built-in that does that for them and mine is unplugged.

Also my parents were very intelligent, and unlike a lot of Ns or N-adjacents, they were nice enough to pretend to give a crap when they were being nice, and like .......... now I can't tell when other adults of sufficient intelligence are doing it these days? and I don't even have a warm/cold sense unless they give clues, and it takes a whole lot of effort to watch for them and doesn't come naturally?

Does this make sense? It sounds like an anxiety/shame complex under a very thin veil but I promise it's not, because I don't ... really react to things in that way?? I realized over the past 5 years or so that I really just cannot temperature check people's like/dislike toward me unless they are very clear about it, like if I start to have questions about somebody I have to sit down and think it out and it still doesn't compute, and since most of the people in my daily life are (good hearted) snarky types who have been thru a lot of trauma, everybody is nice but keeps their cards close to the vest and I can never have any good sense of where I stand. It's always a big question mark. "Just talk about it" doesn't work because these people don't do that, and I suppose neither have I ever outside of a romantic relationship. (edit: and my 3ish closest friendships)

I hate this but in some sense I'm not even trying to complain, this is just how it is, people make films about this culture, it's literally because civilization has only developed this far, I guess I'm just wondering how common it is to have this exact problem after being raised by Ns, orrrr if it's maybe more the autism. K THANKS BYE

A while ago Ns gave me a farewell email i think. I don't read their emails, but the header looked like that and I accidentally read part of the header. I didn't reply.

Since then, they've been spamming me like every other day, and i've replied to none of it.

They filed a missing person report. Popo called me and told me to come down to the station. I went over the police station, showed popo ID to prove i'm not missing. It wasn't too annoying, if nothing else, it's much less annoying to talk to an officer than my Ns.

I've been belittled by an officer previously over not talking with Ns. I just made up some nonsense until the popo was satisfied.

Popo; "Why did they file a missing person report?"

me; "they're racist towards the person i'm dating and it's retaliation"

Cross posting to the rbn community on Lemmy too

clearly state your case once and then leave it at that. If the narcissist doesn’t accept it and persists, walk away

Why are we arguing with someone who’s determined to see you as the cause of everything that’s wrong in their life?

X will reach out due to being concerned. X wastes a lot of time pretending to not be 100% on Nparent's side, then tells me to go back to them for more abuse.

I get drained if I spend too much time with someone negative. With less eye contact, I hold up better it seems.

I was housed recently. Lost my place and my Npartner. Had to move back in with Nparents. Npartner was bad, but Nparents are a whole other level of bad. I was in jail for 1 day. Nparents are comparably bad as the jail. The jail didn't allow me to use my prescription meds and confined me. Npartner was more about the silence treatment and immense passive aggression.

Nparents, I have some freedom of movement, but:

severely limited freedom of movement (I'm 30, have to ask permission, permission which may be arbitrarily withheld, not allowed to use public transport (I can’t drive, disability), have to sneakily use meds, constant insults, fat shaming (my bmi is 20), being told everyone they know hates me, constant threats of being evicted, threatening to call cops on me, pretty limited food despite there being enough food in the house, not allowed to go to food bank, soup kitchen, have previously thrown away my meds, trying to discourage me from having privacy, constant worry about the internet/electronics being monitored, strict speaking requirements when I’m near them, many banned conversation topics, dress code, strong discouragement of contact with friends/extended family, enforced eating etiquette, not allowed to displays symptoms of my disability (when it acts up, I’m required to try to hide it – then they later chastise me by saying ‘see, i told you, you have no symptoms), prohibiting anti-perspirant, required to ‘cleaning’ my armpits multiple times per day with some kind of chemical that burns, threats of being forced to wax my armpits (i’m a male), prohibited from doing calming activities like meditation, requirement to be ‘productive’, constantly told I’m not productive, requirement to agree with them in ‘conversation’ when they are mocking homeless/minorities/disabled people, disallowing me to use accessibility devices, the fact that they freely walk into 'my' room regardless of whether or not i'm changing (was sexually assaulted by them previously), Nbrother has previously approached my friends to try to turn them against me, and more.

Nmom occasionally pretends to be understanding. I spoke to her about living in a homeless shelter and just storing my stuff at her house. Thoroughly chastised.

All of this is 1 week in. I'm definitely going to be evicted from here. Nmom is very unhappy that I receive welfare and has already begun taking action to cause financial dependence on her. Any advice here? I plan to refuse to voluntarily give access to my bank account or my electronics - I plan to change majors passwords every week. She will demand control over my finances, it has happened in the past.

Nparents definitely causes fleas. When I’m out and about it’s much harder to talk to randoms like cashiers. When I speak to someone and they’re not mean to me, I’m surprised the whole time. The whole Nparent experience strongly encourages some kind of mutism.

They'd asked 'why didn't you do that?' I'd explain, then get in even more trouble for explaining. I thought they wanted an answer? Am i suppose to just say nothing?

Me: do you think they're justified, both Nparents, in banning me from communicating with you (FM uncle)?

The reply:

They were still and always will be your parents, and I the doting uncle.. But some, seem threatened by this. I have done no harm to either of your parents. In fact your Mom had resumed communicating with me from March last year, ever since Nana came to live with me.
Perhaps they have offered their reasons to you, for this banning.

My other sisters have adult kids with whom I communicate almost daily.

Seems your parents became unhappy when I did not inform them that you were communicating with me, over element.
Naturally, I wanted to assist you as best as possible by even inviting you to come to brazil. I'm flummoxed really with their attitude.

Now that you back home, I hope that all the necessary steps are taken to get your place back.

Mom is no longer communicating with me, in fact she has attempted to vilify me with the rest of my family, here in brazil... they have no desire to heed her wishes to end our strong relationship

Some analysis; notice how in his whole reply, he sorta addressed my original question, but he doesn't directly and sorta beats around the bush. He throws in a 'They were still and always will be your parents'. This, 'now that you're back home, your [...] safe', couldn't be less true, and they should know that based on my previous complaints.

When I was a little kid my mother (passive agressive bipolar narcissist) opened her heart to me. Keep in mind, I am her first of two children with different fathers and she wasn't married. She told me how she never felt loved by her parents, siblings, or the men in her life. She said she thought by having a baby she would get someone who had no choice but to love her.

When my half-brother and I were 13 and 11, she abandoned us in a trailer on a dirt road. She had found a boyfriend who was also her boss at work. She went home with him at night and rarely came home.

The electricity got turned off because she didn't pay the bill more times than I can count. The refrigerator and shelves were empty most of the time. My brother and I had to go fishing, steal corn from the fields, and collect returnable bottles from the roads to eat. Some days we got nothing.

She would come home for a week or so every few months when she was fighting with her boyfriend. Then she got groceries for us.

Now I am middle aged. I live on the opposite side of the planet and don't talk to her.

My brother lives a few miles from her and barely talks to or visits.

Her boyfriend died years ago.

She thought only of herself when we were young and needed parents and now she is lonely.

Sandy (Ngrandma) declares that the next time her grandchildren come over she's going to reiterate the house rules, point out the two rules plaques she already has up, and put up another ten. The other members cheer her on. Much later, her granddaughter chooses a university she would need to drive to, instead of getting a ride with her mother. Sandy demands to have input into her granddaughter's school choice before she'll hand over the promised money. One of the commenters escalates with a proposed plan of action so long that it spans two screens. The gist of it is that Sandy is correct to take a hard line with her entitled "pissant of a GD," and should give her granddaughter the money only if the girl agrees to get a technical or nursing degree and presents her GPA to Sandy for approval. Sandy should keep the money in her own name, refuse to pay for books and supplies in order to keep her granddaughter frugal, and send funds directly to the school rather than allowing any to pass through her granddaughter's hands. It's an extraordinary demonstration of punitive control over a girl who insists upon choosing her own university. The other members agree that it's an excellent scheme, and Sandy resolves to put it into action.

from http://www.issendai.com/psychology/estrangement/estranged-parents-confront-reasons.html

Nfam got together and spent 2+ hrs complaining about me and discussing whether they will evict me late at night. But not to me, to each other. They made sure they were yelling about it through the entire house, so i heard them. For context i'm disabled. Next day they left this note on the fridge: