|
My grandmother/adopted mom would also go through my room periodically and just leave any contraband (e.g. spank bank material -- I'm old, this was before we had smartphones/internet in my room) she found on my bed. Rarely would she say anything about it or throw it away. Just wanted to make sure I knew that she knew. Ugh. I'd forgotten about that.
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2021 20:24
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 27, 2024 13:51 |
|
|
The most insulting part to me is that she never even found evidence of things to be angry at us about. Like, she would go through my room and my brother's room and eavesdrop on our phonecalls and invade our privacy at every opportunity, but we were so traumatized by the way that we were brought up that we did nothing except sit in our rooms with the doors closed playing video games or reading. We didn't leave the house to hang out with friends, we didn't have drugs or whatever. We never got in trouble because we were like passive vegetables. So the worst thing she ever found by going through our stuff was a folded-up letter I wrote to her that I kept in a dresser drawer that calmly explained how embarrassing and insulting it was to me that she kept going through my room and invading my privacy, how I hated feeling like I had no privacy and how much it hurt me that she never trusted me, and how I felt like it had held me back from growing as a person or living a fulfilling life. I came home from school one day to that letter sitting unfolded, face-up on my desk with a loving hershey's kiss on top of it. She never acknowledged it and did not stop going through my room regularly.
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2021 20:30
|
|
|
deep dish peat moss posted:The most insulting part to me is that she never even found evidence of things to be angry at us about. Like, she would go through my room and my brother's room and eavesdrop on our phonecalls and invade our privacy at every opportunity, but we were so traumatized by the way that we were brought up that we did nothing except sit in our rooms with the doors closed playing video games or reading. We didn't leave the house to hang out with friends, we didn't have drugs or whatever. We never got in trouble because we were like passive vegetables. So the worst thing she ever found by going through our stuff was a folded-up letter I wrote to her that I kept in a dresser drawer that calmly explained how embarrassing and insulting it was to me that she kept going through my room and invading my privacy, how I hated feeling like I had no privacy and how much it hurt me that she never trusted me, and how I felt like it had held me back from growing as a person or living a fulfilling life. I came home from school one day to that letter sitting unfolded, face-up on my desk with a loving hershey's kiss on top of it. She never acknowledged it and did not stop going through my room regularly. Yo dawg that’s super hosed up
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2021 21:15
|
|
|
Oh wow, this. Out of all the things my mother did, this was probably the worst. It's definitely not normal. Actually, it might be normal but it's not good. She'd go through my stuff when I wasn't there, which was difficult because it's not like I spent a lot of time outdoors. She searched for anything personal and threw it out, then when I asked where it was she pretended that it never existed and that I was making things up. Any art projects, drawings, gifts from friends, or even things that she bought me that I liked too much. Likewise mementos from dead relatives, people I lost touch with, whatever. It was definitely a targeted action. Saying that I liked something guaranteed that if would vanish within the next two weeks. She literally couldn't stand the idea of someone else having something that they enjoyed. The toddler connection is becoming really clear. It's a child throwing a tantrum and attacking someone else because someone else has a toy and they don't. And if they get the toy, they immediately drop it, because they didn't want the toy, they just didn't want anyone else to have it.
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2021 21:32
|
|
|
Not me, but I remember a colleague I wasn’t close to had a couple of kids. She just dropped in casual conversation that she rearranges the furniture in her kids room while they’re sleeping because ‘this world is unpredictable and they shouldn’t get used to things staying the same’ I was pretty horrified. Isn’t a kid’s room one of the few places they should feel safe and that things are stable?
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2021 22:26
|
|
|
Dongsturm posted:
 sometimes.I think this is part of why I wake up constantly at night unless I wear these noise canceling earbuds. I couldn't relax at home in case my father was in one of his moods and god forbid you were lying on the couch or, the worst sin imaginable, taking a nap. I learned how to keep track of exactly where he was in the house based on the floorboard creaks (he was not a small man). I got really, really good at knowing when he was heading in certain directions so I could pop up and make myself look busy.
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2021 22:58
|
|
I frequently get the paranoid thought that people in this thread are spying on my life and then posting the stories. It's just too accurate to be a coincidence.
|
blatman posted:i've been meaning to ask this question here for awhile and honestly i've written/deleted it so many times that I don't remember if i've even posted it yet but here it goes: Sup. It was a big source of anxiety for me. I would ask her to stop and she would tell me "but it's organized now, don't you like it organized?" But no matter how I organized my room she always had to reorganize it a different way. I don't know what organization system she used and asking her about it was considered backtalk. So I had to take everything out and put it away how I liked so I could find things. I kept pictures on my phone of all my drawers to help me put them back. This also helped me figure out which of my things she threw away. It feels silly, because I'm upset that she cleaned my room for me. But, I was always slightly on edge that whenever I came home I'd have to spend a few hours taking account of all my things and moving my furniture back. I also dreaded having the conversation where I reminded her that she promised not to do that, and take the conversation from "I didn't do it" to "I did it but you actually like it" to "I did it but this was punishment for something that I hadn't yet brought up" to the new promise not to do it again. When I moved out it was weird how much safer I felt at home, and how much less time I spent thinking about all of my possessions. Anything important is safely where I put it and I don't have to worry about it going missing by the time I have to use it. Also, if I have a problem with something my roommates did, I can just talk to them and they will talk earnestly with me about it.
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2021 23:16
|
|
|
Dr. Stab posted:Sup. it's not silly, it's legit awful. And so many people have had that conversation that it got summarised as the Narcissists prayer : The Narcissist's Prayer That didn't happen. And if it did, it wasn't that bad. And if it was, that's not a big deal. And if it is, that's not my fault. And if it was, I didn't mean it. And if I did, you deserved it.
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2021 23:27
|
|
|
I never liked keeping paper journals for that reason. I don't think my parents would have read it, but why take the risk? Plus I had a computer and I could at least encrypt it there. Also getting busted in middle school when they found a notebook with random edgy crap I wrote in the margins that I forgot I even wrote an hour later and used that to establish a "pattern". The only time I ever got to see the counselor was when I was in trouble, and like, I was pretty stupid then, but there was no way I'm telling an employee of the school anything about what's in my head because we've been down that road to get here, and I'd rather not get expelled, no matter what they said about confidentiality. Of course doing this took 3 times as much work than they ever put in to people bullying or attacking me in class. This kid really disaffected and mad? Gonna come down on him like a ton of bricks. And then I get to go home to be bullied and yelled at there. How did I end up totally distrustful of others and compulsively tearing out my hair/chewing my knuckles? 
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2021 23:35
|
|
|
Dongsturm posted:
Nope, definitely not normal and definitely not good. Out of all the poo poo things my Mum did this was the one that hosed me up the worst. Twenty-something years later I am still really paranoid and panicked about people reading over my shoulder, I don't take personal calls in front of other people and will always move to another room, and I find it very, very difficult to keep a journal or write my thoughts out on paper. When I lived with my parents, I didn't really have any space that was private. My school bag, desk, computer, mail, bedroom.. Mum would go through everything and anything. Including barging into my room after I'd showered or if I had the door closed. When my periods started, the lack of privacy added a whole new layer of hosed up into my life, because I couldn't change a tampon without her randomly walking into my room with a basket of laundry claiming "oh I just need to bring this in here" while she stared me up and down. Things that belonged to me would randomly disappear. Photographs, letters, items of clothing she didn't care for. I couldn't keep a journal because she'd read it then berate me for whatever I wrote in it. She found a receipt from a chemist I'd used to buy a sexual health-related medication from, then told my brother and the next door neighbour that I was taking it. Once she dug a business card out of my wallet, figured it that it belonged to a guy I used to date then she emailed his boss trying to get him into trouble at work. I have no idea why she did these things. If she was worried about me and did it from a position of wanting to know what was going on in my head so she could help me, then maybe I could understand that but help wasn't something I ever got. When I started self-harming, the knife I was using kept disappearing from my room back into the kitchen, but nothing was ever said to me about what it was doing under my bed. After she kicked me out of the house at 18, she said that she'd thought about sending me to a psychologist but didn't because she "didn't think I would want to go". When I was in my early thirties, I went overseas for a month and asked my brother to housesit for me and my partner. When I got back, he said that Mum booked her car into the mechanic's down the street for a service, then walked to my house and said "Oh I'll just wait here until the car is ready". My brother eventually had to leave the house to go to work, and Mum stayed in the house while he was gone. So of course I go into my room and the bed is made (I always strip the bed before I go on holidays) and it's pretty obvious to me that my partner and my stuff has been looked through. So I decide to confront my Mum about it and tell her that I'm a grown woman who doesn't need her mother making her bed and that it's unacceptable for her to invite herself into my house when I am not there, and that it's offensive that she went through my partner and I's things. Of loving course she tries to deny that she went through our stuff, gets in a giant huff that I would be so rude as to take offence to her making my bed and "helping" me while I was away, and stomps around her kitchen spluttering about how she won't bother helping me in the future. I leave, because I've said my piece and she's behaving like a bratty child because I dared to call her out on her crap. It was terrifying standing up to her. I felt like I was about to puke the entire time. But it felt good to stand up for myself. Whenever I start to feel guilty about going no contact with her, I think about her bizarre behaviour and how my kid is not going to be damaged by her weirdness.
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2021 23:38
|
|
|
My therapist keeps pushing me to try journaling but I can't bring myself to actually put anything emotionally vulnerable into tangible form. However I have gotten to the point I can take notes of what I want to talk about next session, in an encrypted file and the notes are all coded oblique references no one else could figure out. But on the subject of holiday gift giving, where do I order the chocolate robococks because there are a lot of stockings that need stuffing.
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2021 23:48
|
|
|
femcastra posted:Not me, but I remember a colleague I wasn’t close to had a couple of kids. She just dropped in casual conversation that she rearranges the furniture in her kids room while they’re sleeping because ‘this world is unpredictable and they shouldn’t get used to things staying the same’ This is psycho behavior. Also even if they truly believed what they said, how is rearranging the furniture while they're asleep supposed to achieve that?
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 00:00
|
|
|
My wife has kept a journal pretty much ever since we got married over 17 years ago. I take pride in the fact that she feels safe enough to leave it on her night stand because she knows I would never, ever, ever touch it and never have. Hell, if it's something she doesn't want to tell me, I don't want to know! Now that my son can write in complete sentences I've been encouraging him to do the same, and I have the same rule. I would only touch his diary if I had a drat good reason to believe someone's life was in imminent danger and only my reading his diary could save them. I can't imagine any other parent violating that trust. I'm completely serious that reading someone's diary without permission is a violation almost on the level of rape. I can't believe how many other parents do it, and if you violate that trust even ONCE, you can NEVER get it back.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 00:27
|
|
|
I can't journal without getting physically ill from anxiety. I have an aversion to bullet journaling and the entire culture around it to the point of physical revulsion. It loving sucks. One time when I was a teenager, before I left, my mother found some very, very mild lesbianesque smut I wrote out and hid inside a book. My mother called her friends, who were similar to her, so they could force me to sit at the kitchen table while they read it aloud and mocked me. It took years for me to write more than a check or a grocery list.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 00:50
|
|
|
My mom went through my room when I was a teenager and read a letter that I wrote my best friend(who had been shipped off to one of those ‘outdoor survival’/cultish/reform school places suddenly in the middle of the night). I don’t know why she would do that, I was a pretty straight-arrow teenager, but that was the last time I wrote anything on paper that was at all revealing or private. I just can’t do it. That was 38 years ago.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 01:05
|
|
|
My bedroom was in the basement we finished after buying the house. At one point I started a journal, I think in 7th or 8th grade. I have no idea wtf happened to it, it just vanished one day, and every so often I'm mortified by the idea that my father went poking around and found it. Most likely it fell into the wall. I hid my porn up on top of the hanging ceiling tiles (actual paper and some floppy disks; I know for a fact my father would snoop on computers, not realizing I knew more about them than he did to cover my tracks). I don't remember putting the notebook up there, but I must have and knocked the lot to fall down into the wall cavity. I'm going to believe that's what happened since the alternative is anyone reading the cringe-y poo poo my preteen self wrote back then.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 01:13
|
|
|
blatman posted:poo poo this might be why my mom kept bugging me to start journaling I did pretty much the same thing on an old-rear end Amiga. Even if they found the disk there was no way my parents were technical enough to figure out how to open the file. I should start doing it again, if only to put my collection of ancient computers to some kind of practical use.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 01:13
|
|
|
JnnyThndrs posted:My mom went through my room when I was a teenager and read a letter that I wrote my best friend(who had been shipped off to one of those ‘outdoor survival’/cultish/reform school places suddenly in the middle of the night). I don’t know why she would do that, I was a pretty straight-arrow teenager, but that was the last time I wrote anything on paper that was at all revealing or private. I just can’t do it. I think I almost went to one of those, I made the heinous mistake of getting bad grades while one of my friends was terminally ill. Good thing my parents were busy with repeatedly kicking my brother out of the house because they never followed up
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 01:18
|
|
|
Dongsturm posted:Actually, it might be normal but it's not good. It's easy to mistake "common" for "normal", but there's a really important distinction here. And healthy is its own thing.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 01:19
|
|
|
My parents bought a "family computer" every few years because my dad wanted to download mp3s illegally. That was the only time anyone was allowed on the internet at my parent's house: when my dad was downloading poo poo. My mom wouldn't let me access the internet because "it's just a stupid fad and you'll never need to use it." My job is touching computers. My mom tells me all the time how they "encouraged my love of technology." Bitch I do not love it, I touch computer for a job, and absolutely no thanks to you.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 01:23
|
|
|
Mormon Nailer posted:My parents bought a "family computer" every few years because my dad wanted to download mp3s illegally. That was the only time anyone was allowed on the internet at my parent's house: when my dad was downloading poo poo. We should have set your mom up with my father. They sound like the same person. I was mocked for listening to physics lecture tapes I found at the library => Now I have a Master's in astrophysics, working on my PhD in physics. I was mocked and berated for spending too much time on my computer and for taking out programming books => Now I'm 10 years deep into a software engineering career making an honestly profane amount of money. Bonus: I was constantly told I was wrong for changing jobs (when that's kind of the new normal in this field) to escape toxic situations and make some upward career moves => Far from no one wanting to hire me because I moved around, the number of calls and emails from recruiters has reached a problematic level. But of course now he brags about the outcome as if he ever did anything but actively discourage everything I ever did.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 01:35
|
|
|
BaronVonVaderham posted:We should have set your mom up with my father. They sound like the same person. Hello fellow physics human, I too have a master's in physics and my parents did everything in their power to try to stop me from completing my education. Eventually I'll go back and get a PhD, probably out of pure spite. I'm working in a field completely unrelated right now for various reasons I would rather not get into, but recently interviewed for a director level job at my previous company for an obscene amount of money. My mother took it upon herself to tell me "well, girls like you don't make that kind of money, that's why your marriage didn't work out." My marriage didn't work out because we're different people now, and don't really have common interests anymore, and also girls like me don't give a gently caress, mom.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 01:42
|
|
|
When I was 19 or 20 I had done a delayed enlistment program for the army where I’d go to school for two years and then go to basic training with the rank of Specialist. I was living with my dad and stepmom at the time and was keeping this from my dad because he was being an rear end in a top hat about the idea of me not going ROTC and becoming an officer like him. He knew my grades had gone down the tubes when he and my mom divorced so he had to know ROTC was off the table for me in the near future. Anyway I was at work and my stepmom called me. Apparently she’d found a leave and earnings statement under my bed and called to confront me about it. Also a pack of cigarettes was under there too, a really old one because I’d stopped smoking the year before that. She claimed the housekeeper had found it, which was pretty sus because she didn’t clean under my bed, which meant that my stepmom had suspected something and looked around my room. Nevermind I was a grown adult who was in the middle of working and school and trying to get my poo poo together to move out of there, at this moment I was a child who lacked the agency to make a decision like joining the loving army and needed to be punished for this disobedience. The punishment was them completely ignoring me for the two weeks leading up to a Christmas trip I was supposed to go on, and then the morning of that trip I woke up to an empty house and they’d packed the car and gone on their way. When they got back it was all about how I’d hurt them deeply by making a decision they didn’t like and then not telling them about it because I knew they wouldn’t like it and I was doing it anyway. They still bring that up, a decade after I finished my last day of an eight year enlistment. They still bring up lots of poo poo from back when I was a teenager and I don’t understand why—it’s like I was expected to make decisions like an adult but was still a child no matter what I did.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 01:56
|
|
|
Imagined posted:The funny thing is that she assumed that me and the skater/goth kids who dressed like me were the "bad" kids who drank, had sex and did drugs. When in reality we the biggest dorks and did nothing bad, meanwhile we knew the clean-cut "preppy" kids she wanted me to look and act like were the actual partiers running around getting teen pregnant. While the skater kids were playing Magic: the Gathering and Vampire the Masquerade and playing videogames. This stupid bullshit literally led to the conviction of the West Memphis Three because they were goth and weird.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 02:30
|
|
|
My dad used to hold me down so I couldn't move because he knows I didn't like it, to punish my mom. Hours at a time sitting on my legs holding my arms beside me while I cried, panicking. He'd watch a movie while doing it. My mom sitting on the couch trying to act like it's all fine so my dad would let up because everyone was compliant. My mom would wait until he wasn't in ear shot and just hold me and say sorry. She escaped with us eventually. I'm still so claustrophobic, can't deal with my arms not being able to move. Watched tank girl just before covid at a bad movie night and there's a scene where a girl is put upside down in a tube and water starts to fill and I had such a panic attack and puked. He's apparently well over 500 pounds now and so hosed up he's barely able to talk. Chronic pain, diabetes, needs a breathing device...I actually feel incredibly bad and want to reach out and help him because he's my dad. I feel pathetic. In don't know where this desire comes from. He terrorized us. Anyway that's my story my own son rules and my father will never know him.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 03:05
|
|
|
Harvey Mantaco posted:My dad used to hold me down so I couldn't move because he knows I didn't like it, to punish my mom. Hours at a time sitting on my legs holding my arms beside me while I cried, panicking. He'd watch a movie while doing it. My mom sitting on the couch trying to act like it's all fine so my dad would let up because everyone was compliant. Holy loving poo poo 
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 04:06
|
|
|
^^^^ On the flip side of this, my mother loved to “joke around” about being grossed out any time I tried to hug or kiss her, but whenever she decided she wanted affection (when I explicitly said I didn’t want to or told her to leave me alone) she would grab my face—always the same way, with one hand gripping my face by both cheeks—and force my face to hers to kiss my cheek. Anyone else experience this kind of “forced affection”? On what I’m sure is a completely unrelated note, I’m taking swimming classes at the local community college and when my instructor tried to show me how to turn my head to properly breathe while swimming and tried to demonstrate by gripping and turning my head that fight or flight instinct hit HARD—I just about had a panic attack and practically flew away from him. I can’t imagine what you had to endure. Those talking about their parents invading their privacy have made me realize how “fortunate” (  ) I was that my parents finally acquiesced sometime around adolescence and and let me have a lock on my bedroom door. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t at least retreat into the safety and comfort of my room. Mind you, my dad hosed up the installation of it (as he did just about every “handyman” task I ever knew him to have performed—don’t worry, my mother of course didn’t let him hear the end of it whenever he did), so it was always kind of wonky, had to turn the handle one way and lock the other, but it worked and I could disappear into the refuge of my Discman. But along with the door slamming/yelling at no one in particular about what a “little witch“ (mostly actually “witch”, I think “bitch” only got interspersed sporadically once I hit adolescence) I was on a near-daily basis because of whatever horrific transgression I’d committed that day, such as “challenging (or even just disagreeing with) anything my mother said”, she would punctuate her frustration rants with pounding on my (usually locked) bedroom door with her fist. Beyond being immensely stressful and panic-inducing to experience on a regular basis, I remember being terrified even when my door was locked, wondering if she’d break it down and just come after me one day. Anyone else have parents who did this?Along those lines, my mom always did this thing of, like...I can only best describe it as “yell muttering”, yelling/loudly talking?/complaining about whatever she was mad at, which was usually me, sometimes my dad, sometimes my brother, sometimes some permutation thereof...and I could never figure out what I was “supposed to” do—what she expected me to do—when she did this. Was she talking to me? To herself? Did she expect a response? And of course the few times I actually asked her “Who are you talking to?” “Are you talking to me?” “Do you want me to respond?” in a genuine attempt to cater to her exhaustingly opaque whims/desires that was obviously the cause of another new round of yelling about how “fresh” I was. I know this wasn’t just us—when Kellyanne Conway’s daughter posted those recordings of her mother going off at her I was suuuper triggered because it just felt and sounded so familiar—but is this common among narcissistic/abusive parents? What IS it? What are they DOING? DID she expect me to respond????
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 04:31
|
|
|
life is killing me posted:They still bring up lots of poo poo from back when I was a teenager and I don’t understand why—it’s like I was expected to make decisions like an adult but was still a child no matter what I did. Because that's what they want from you, to be an adult only when it's convenient for them and a child to be ordered and punished the rest of it. They will always see you at your most vulnerable.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 04:37
|
|
|
blinkeve1826 posted:with one hand gripping my face by both cheeks She used to grab my face to pop zits and point out blackheads. She was prone to grabbing at my hips, slapping me, pulling my shoulders back, pinching my arms, and some other stuff. I'm visiting my sister for Christmas this year and the thought of having to allow my mother to hug me when she comes is making my skin crawl. The thought of her touching me at all makes me nauseous. I don't know how to get out of it without causing a scene but having her hands on me makes me violently angry.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 04:51
|
|
|
Lift weights and gently caress your mom up
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 05:12
|
|
|
ElHuevoGrande posted:She used to grab my face to pop zits and point out blackheads. She was prone to grabbing at my hips, slapping me, pulling my shoulders back, pinching my arms, and some other stuff. I'm visiting my sister for Christmas this year and the thought of having to allow my mother to hug me when she comes is making my skin crawl. The thought of her touching me at all makes me nauseous. I don't know how to get out of it without causing a scene but having her hands on me makes me violently angry. These people don't leave the option to make any changes without causing a scene or looking, on the surface at least, like we're the ones transgressing by setting and enforcing boundaries. Make a scene.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 05:14
|
|
|
femcastra posted:Not me, but I remember a colleague I wasn’t close to had a couple of kids. She just dropped in casual conversation that she rearranges the furniture in her kids room while they’re sleeping because ‘this world is unpredictable and they shouldn’t get used to things staying the same’ My mom said something similar to me about feeling too comfortable in my room. I guess she thought if I had more anxiety it would cure my depression. As though I didn't have enough anxiety. I don't know if it was a thing she actually believed. It was one of a half dozen reasons she gave me that day with the final one being "it was punishment for not making your bed." so 
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 05:19
|
|
|
My parents were very chill comparatively but I absolutely do not write any personal thoughts down or share them unless absolutely necessary. I pissed my mom off once by writing in the journal she gave me "I will not be recording my thoughts in here" for a week or two until she thought there was some good stuff in there and instead got pages of that. shame on an IGA posted:Lift weights and gently caress your mom up I've never been so grateful for the word "up" in a sentence before Barudak fucked around with this message at 05:46 on Oct 19, 2021 |
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 05:44
|
|
|
vortmax posted:I've never understood this idea. I was in high school in the 90s and during Satanic Panic, but it was always obvious to us as students that the preppy rich kids were the ones doing drugs and loving. When I was in high school it was well known among teenagers that the kids at the private Christian school were the most hedonistic partiers out of anyone in the county. Parents had no idea.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 16:52
|
|
|
vortmax posted:I've never understood this idea. I was in high school in the 90s and during Satanic Panic, but it was always obvious to us as students that the preppy rich kids were the ones doing drugs and loving. By the time I was in high school the attitude has evolved to anyone nerdy being forever under suspicion of being the next school shooter I knew that some teachers thought I would maybe be one and at the time I thought they were entertainingly stupid because I knew they were wasting their energy and I was never going to do it but now that I'm older i'm quite livid
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 17:01
|
|
|
femcastra posted:Not me, but I remember a colleague I wasn’t close to had a couple of kids. She just dropped in casual conversation that she rearranges the furniture in her kids room while they’re sleeping because ‘this world is unpredictable and they shouldn’t get used to things staying the same’ Big "<something> isn't fair? Life isn't fair.  " boomer energy.I'm a bit late to the party but aside from my mom's distressing lack of boundaries leading to some weird poo poo with my bedroom and my "den" I've never had my entire room turned over or anything totally nuts like that. I vaguely recall the one time my room did get overhauled - by my choice - there being some weird hesitation w/r/t my bed being tucked away out of the immediate line of sight of the doorway but I could be manufacturing that memory wholesale. The real flashpoint in this house was always the living room. There was always endless drama about things being left in the living room and it ranged from reasonable but handled like poo poo to outright insane boomer-brained bullshit. It's like that viral skit about prepping for the holidays - no one can know that we LIVE HERE!!!!! But of course it was always focused on me, my stuff, always. The living room is chockablock with all of my mom's (dust and filth-encrusted) teddy bears, her collectible plates on display that I doubt she even remembers in any specific capacity, that sort of poo poo. (And note, she spends basically none of her day to day time in the living room.) But any of my stuff was fair game to be freely moved without telling me or turned into a dumb argument or be seen as an embarrassing burden to be swept under the rug if company might be coming over. The worst time was when I had invited some online friends over for a rare RL get together. I dug out a cardboard box full of all of my old consoles so we could get some Power Stone and Goldeneye going or w/e on the big TV. After they left, I had packed up all the stuff well enough and tucked the box aside. No mess of wires strewn all about, no Sega tapes all over the floor, literally just that one box of stuff tucked away in a spot where you basically had to go looking for it to see it or be bothered by it. So at some point in the week afterwards, my dad made a fuss about how he wanted the box out of the living room. And in my predictably petulant teenage way I kinda brushed him off and said I move it eventually and not to make a big deal about it. Cue me waking up one morning to find my parents gone on a day trip and the box ~mysteriously~ missing. (Knowing how these things work there's a 99% chance the reason I was even going for the box was because I had decided to finally move it literally that morning.) I freaked the gently caress out because the conclusion that I had jumped to was that my dad, in a fit of rage, had hucked the whole thing into to the car and driven off somewhere to sell it for a pittance to teach me a lesson. But no, he's too passive aggressive to go that far, actually he "just" took the box and hid it somewhere to teach me a lesson and revealed this once they got home several hours later, during which time I was freaking the gently caress out. And hopefully you too can figure out the intense hypocrisy and stupidity of moving the box somewhere else as a punishment for me not moving the box somewhere else. It was beyond clear that it was that classic bullshit boomer ego thing where there was no actual logical reason for why the box had to be moved OR ELSE or if there was it had long since been left behind in favor of getting riled up over his authority being questioned. John Murdoch fucked around with this message at 20:05 on Oct 19, 2021 |
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 20:02
|
|
|
Though I guess in general a huge number of interactions with my dad have gone sour over the years because he takes any request for clarification as a criticism or an attack or just some kind of usurpation of his authority...when really like others have posted I'd just like to get a better picture of what he wants and why. And then I'm left with the strong implication that the actual answer is that most of what he does is entirely on whim and my asking for hard details would force him to admit that/admit culpability and that's the most terrifying thing of all to him.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2021 20:13
|
|
|
I temporarily moved back in with my mom when I was 22, and even then she would just enter my room without knocking or saying anything, it pissed me off so much. She expected me to have a curfew too, and I was like "lol gently caress that". I'd already lived on my own for several years, no loving way I'm going to accept being treated like a teenager again.
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2021 03:47
|
|
|
Royals: they’re just like us! No actually, while I have my “misgivings” on taxpayer funded royalty, I do admittedly have a soft spot for Megan Markle, especially in regards to her loving abhorrent father. https://www.theroot.com/thomas-markle-claims-he-doesnt-understand-why-meghan-ha-1847892020 The fact that he’s giving red meat to the already bonkers racist British press is unforgivable, regardless of relationship. It hits a nerve how it’s so obvious his end goal, and how he’d hurt his own daughter to do so. Royalty or not, this is poo poo behavior that no one deserves to be the recipient of, and gently caress I really just feel for her as it has that narcy stink.
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2021 08:18
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 27, 2024 13:51 |
|
|
Soylent Pudding posted:When I was in high school it was well known among teenagers that the kids at the private Christian school were the most hedonistic partiers out of anyone in the county. Parents had no idea. I had a friend in highschool whose parents wouldn't let me hang out with him because I wasn't a "good christian" and because I didn't have nice clothes they thought I was a drug dealer. Their son sold drugs when we weren't hanging out and had to beg me for cash for an abortion once. teen witch posted:Royals: they’re just like us! Megan Markle's dad is a pluming trashfire visible for miles around, its smell forever lingering and a warning to all civilized people not to go there, so of course Brits love it.
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2021 10:26
|
|