Processing

I've spent a fair amount of time since November 23rd considering all that happened as I was growing up, the effect having mentally ill parents had, and the really frustrating (to me, anyway) fact that a great deal of that shit was never brought into the light.

I go back and forth between how sad that he died alone to well of course he died alone, what did he expect?

I'm mature enough to know that what other people think of me really isn't my problem, but immature enough to be pissed off about the bad opinions of folks who have no clue about any of it.

Another incredibly frustrating thing are the people who say things like, "It's time to get over it." Or, my personal favorite, "Forgive and forget."

Putting aside the fact that those are platitudes that favor/excuse the abuser, stop and think about why you'd think it's okay to say that to someone who is hurting.

And this one, too. "They did the best they could."
Another platitude.

When I spend time considering what that actually means, I am forced to say no. No, they did not do 'their best'.

Because if the years of ugliness and abusive language and the slapping someone around is not occurring in full view of the entire universe, it's covert. Meaning they KNOW their behavior and actions aren't okay and they're hiding who they really are.

When they saved their best for everyone else, and now they're gone and everyone else thinks they were a saint, there's something very wrong.

I just love when someone adds, "Don't dwell on it."
Who the hell are you? Why are you telling me how to handle things and what to think about the things that happened to me? What the hell do you know about it?

"Why are you still so angry?"

The only answer to that one is, "Why aren't you angry on my behalf? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Well, other people had it worse."
Ya think?
What you're saying is because someone had worse pain, mine is insignificant? Somehow doesn't hurt as much?

I've been reading/interacting on some forums dealing with being an adult survivor of narcissism or borderline personality disorder or other things in the same general categories.

It's been informative.
There's something to be said for knowing you're not alone, too. For me at least, it's been validating and comforting to know that many things I'd thought happened just to me happened to lots of other people. It doesn't make it hurt less, but it helps on a different level.

At this point, an actual diagnosis doesn't matter.
The villain in my story has gone on to whatever there is after this life.

One of the moderators in a forum reached out via PM a couple weeks ago and we shared a bit of what life was like when we were kids.

I told her about the counselor who had helped me get away from my father and shared how grateful I was.

"I looked him up a few years ago to try and write to him, but found his obituary instead."

She asked if he had children. I didn't know.
"Well if he did, you could write to them and tell them how he helped you."

I told her I wouldn't have the first clue how to find any progeny.
"I used to work for a PI," she said. "If it's okay with you, I will see what I can find out."

I told her that would be fine, and the next morning, contact information for my counselor's only child (haha, 'child'... the guy is 55 years old) was in my messages. She had already contacted him to make sure it was okay to pass along his information.

I wrote him an email.

His response was kind. He is a counselor as well.
He was appreciative of me sharing my story and said that if his dad were alive that he'd be thrilled to hear from me and to learn that he'd helped me survive and leave the situation.

Meanwhile, my mother has elevated her dead spouse to the level of sainthood and talks often about how the whole community just loved him and what a wonderful man he was.

I won't be saying anything bad to her. She is hurt and sad and lonely and it would serve no purpose. The person who caused the hurt is gone. Her role as the spineless doormat went on for 64 years and even though it was quite often a shitshow, it was their performance and how they navigated life.

That's also why I worked to write a eulogy that was humorous and true without any pedestals.

My poor mom never had a chance at a normal existence. I'm not going to become an adversary and cause her final years to be worse.

But I'll continue to process what was and what could have been.
It helps me feel better.