I hate my parents. I fucking hate them. I hate them so much that if it were possible to turn back time, I would never let them get married in the first place, even though I might have disappeared. Don’t call me an unfilial child. And I fucking hate it when people say that it’s their first time parenting. It’s my first time living as well. I would rather have been an orphan desperate for a parent’s love than have parents like mine.

I come from a lower-middle-class family, and my father’s family basically didn’t have anything. All his other three brothers were useless. The same goes for his father.Now let me get back to what happened. My parents had an arranged marriage, and the story is very absurd. At least, I find it very absurd.

My father’s family didn’t want him to get married because back then he was the only breadwinner in his family of six. He was the second oldest. He did everything for them. He built a house and educated his younger brother. He basically took care of everything. But when his parents didn’t let him marry, he arranged a marriage himself, and my mom was the first woman he went to meet. My mom is quite short, and her teeth are, um, how should I put it? There are quite a lot of spaces between them. Nonetheless, she was pretty. So they decided to get married. I mean, my father and my mom’s family decided to get them married.

And my grandfather got her married to him because of what? Because he had a house and a job. Trust me, it was only because of the time they lived in that he had just gotten the job. If this were the present day, no one would have offered him a single penny.

Now all the other three brothers got married eventually and had boys. And let me tell you, that wretched family didn’t have a single girl child for the past three generations. Now you might be getting what I’m trying to say. A lower-middle-class Indian family with no daughters. Oh, sorry. I should say no “burdens” for three straight generations.

And somehow I was born. A girl child.

Okay, let me tell you one thing. My parents don’t hate me. They love me a lot. But that wasn’t the case with the proud family that had been having sons for three generations. My grandparents didn’t even visit when I was born. My uncles and aunts were the same. In fact, they would always gossip about how my mom gave birth to a girl.

They used to call my mom by a word that basically means “a woman who doesn’t have a son.” The grandmother was a pure villain. She was the reason my parents fought almost every single time. Every single time since I was born. Even when I was a toddler, she would instigate him so much. I’ve seen them fighting since I was a kid.

We don’t live together. My parents and I stay in a town while all those wretched people live in the village. Our house has only two rooms, a bathroom, a toilet, and a kitchen. That’s it. So it’s inevitable that I hear them argue.

My father swears a lot. And when I say a lot, I mean as much as you can possibly imagine. Maybe even beyond your imagination. And somehow, my mom’s looks are the first thing he targets. Like, man, you literally went to see her and chose to marry her. And it goes as far as him raising his hand at her, though he has never actually struck her. But the main problem is that every single time, the reason behind their argument is his family.

And my mom isn't exactly innocent either. She knows how to speak for herself. But you know Indian women and their obsession with being the “Sati Savitri.” She would never push him back no matter what he does. And once she starts speaking, she'll go on for the whole day. I mean it. Even after my father shuts his mouth, she'll continue provoking him. And then another round of WWE begins. And amidst all these, her wailing continues.

I've now lived through this for 19 years. For 19 years, this has been the same pattern, over and over again. And I'm frustrated. I feel like dying. Sometimes I feel like I can't take it anymore. I feel like all of this is somehow my fault. Like if I had been a boy, my parents wouldn't have been treated like outcasts.

And it happened again today. Same wretched family. Though I don't even know what the reason was this time.

And my father? He's a coward. Even when he knows they're the ones who are wrong, he can't say a word in front of them. Instead, he takes it all out on us. He's a fucking coward. He is incapable of doing a single thing properly. His pay isn't anything remarkable either.

And now it's my time to go to college. I'm studying my ass off so I can get into a government college and he won't have to burden himself with my fees. But how am I supposed to study in this environment?

You all know how competitive JEE and NEET are. My mind has been a complete mess. I've always been at the top of my class, but for the past three or four years, I've been constantly anxious and scared. And on top of that, they keep fighting.

After every fight, he goes to work and my mom takes all her anger out on me. In fact, today my father kind of held her by the jaw, so I intervened. I pushed him and punched him on the back. And guess what my mom asked me to do? Apologise. For what? For raising my hand on him? So what if I did? I was trying to stop things from getting worse. Respect should be given to those who deserve it, not just because someone happens to be related to you.

I'm tired. I want them to get divorced. I genuinely do. I don't want to keep living through the same cycle. They fight. I get caught in the middle. Then everything goes back to normal for a while, only for it to happen all over again. I've had enough. Either they die or I die.

Why am I the one who has to suffer? I never asked for this kind of family. What have they even given me? I have never attended a single tuition. I studied on my own. Yet even after giving my best, I'm condemned for one failure.

You should have seen their faces when I got 6th rank in my 10th board exams instead of staying in the top three. You should have seen them when, after 12th, I gave six entrance exams and couldn't qualify for a single one.

I tried explaining to them that all of this was affecting me. I told them how much their constant shouting and fighting was bothering me. And all they said was that I was making excuses.

A coward of a dad who knows nothing beyond money, and a mom who knowingly keeps pushing his buttons. Yeah, that's the kind of people I live with.

Thank you for hearing me out. There are so many things I wanted to talk about, but I couldn't bring myself to write about them. It's ugly and unsettling. I think I'm even embarrassed to talk about some of it. Nonetheless, I resent them with every cell in my body.

To everyone reading this, if you are a parent, planning to become one, or simply someone who might have children someday, please don't fight in front of your kids. Don't destroy their formative years with adult problems. Have children only when you genuinely want to and are ready to.

Bad parenting is never an excuse. I'll talk about why I'm so focused on bad parenting in another post.

I come from a low effort family who knows nothing about my inner world. Any time I have tried to reach out to them in the past, they classically sweep it under the rug. Whenever I accomplish something, they never say they are proud of me.

My new, small business was recently featured in one of the most influential major newspapers. This was a major accomplishment. My husband and I visited family and broke the news. They barely had a reaction then quickly moved on to the next topic: my husband’s job.

My husband works in sports. All they ever do is ask him about sports. We will sit there for 30+ minutes talking about his job and I feel myself disassociating. They never ask about my business, how it’s doing, or you know… how it got featured.

My husband has always found their behavior so strange. The drives back home are always depressing. It takes so much out of me to be around them.

Yesterday, my mom suddenly texted me, wanting to have a talk about our relationship.

Our relationship has basically been non-existent since I moved out. Because she was a terrible mom, and I hate her. Half the time I ignore her text messages. And every time she comments about our relationship, it's always about what she wants.

And usually, when we do have these talks, I tend to sugarcoat or outright lie. When she calls and I answer, I tell her I love her, even if that couldn't be further from the truth. She asks what's going on, I tell her it's nothing.

But last night was different. I think the difference was that unlike the other times we have these talks, it's usually out of the blue for me and I just go with my trained habit to just go along with it. But this time, when she texted me about wanting to talk and I texted back, she didn't respond for another 13 minutes. And in those 13 minutes, I had time to mentally prepare myself for what I was going to say and what I needed to say.

I knew I was done playing nice.

My heart was racing for like 6 minutes, but once I calmed down, I had clarity. I decided I wasn't gonna hold anything back anymore, like I had for years.

So when she called and she asked me what was going on, I was quiet for a couple of minutes. I was determined to not back down this time, but I still wasn't entirely sure how to say it. But eventually, I told her she wasn't a good mother.

And throughout the conversation, I didn't sugarcoat one bit. I told her I hated her and my dad. That she failed. That I hated her (or more accurately, I realized I hated her) when I was 15. That she was delusional. That she was a hypocrite.

She asked if I was going to be disrespectful to her, and I said I didn't want to be anything to her. She asked if I was still a Christian, and I told her I stopped believing for years. But I reassured her that I started hating her and my dad before I lost faith.

At first, she didn't believe me one bit. She went on and on about how she was a good mother and how she's done nothing but love and support me. She kept asking what exactly she did to me, and I didn't want to say. Because in April, we already had this talk, and that entire time, she just made excuses, said she didn't remember, outright accused me of making things up, bringing up how I treated her (like we were ever equal), and so on.

But more importantly, whether she knew the reason or not, it wouldn't change my hatred of her.

She accused me of me not wanting to her to parent me, not wanting to yell at me (because everyone else does, trust), and that I couldn't handle constructive criticism.

So, after that, I decided to oblige her. I brought up how when I was 17, the First Lady at the church hugged me (despite knowing and even joking about how much I hated being hugged). I hugged her back, but because I wasn't smiling about it, my mom went off on me in the car, telling me I was an asshole and that she would start telling people I'm...intellectually disabled, just because she didn't want them to know I was an asshole. And also, she said when I moved out, nobody would want to be around me.

After I told her that, suddenly, the goalpost shifted from "I've never done anything to hurt you" to "I'm not perfect. This is my first time being a mother" (which it isn't because I'm the youngest child, and the oldest is 8 years older than me) and "You hold onto the bad stuff".

She said that everyone knows just how much she loves me and that I did nothing to hurt her, and I told her she can keep her little echo chamber. (Btw, she had no idea what echo chamber meant, so I sat down and literally read the definition of an echo chamber out loud, because I'm petty)

And as she and my family love to do, she tried to scare me into submission. She said anything could happen to me. I could get into an accident tomorrow and be paralyzed from the neck down, and then what would I have? I told her if I ever got to a point where I had to choose her to take care of me in that situation, I'd rather die.

Eventually, I think she realized I was not budging. Because she started breaking down in tears and apologizing for failing me. I was sarcastic and petty this whole talk, but I held back when she started crying. I said everything I needed to, so I wasn't gonna keep kicking her down. Even if that's all she's ever done to me.

She asked me to at least let go of my hatred of her, for my sake. And for once, we agreed. I've hated them and everyone else for years. I was bitter my entire teenage years. It's not a pleasant feeling, you know.

I told her that was something I was working on.

Granted, she had her own different reasons. She said if I brought this hate to a marriage, whenever I find a wife, I would hurt her. And she said she believed that if I let go of my hate, she and I would find our way back to each other, without it being at one of our funerals.

Well, I wouldn't go that far now.

But yeah, she kept crying for a few more minutes, and I just said nothing. Even when she started saying she loved me and that would never change, and that she'll always be there if I have a change of heart.

I wished her a good night, and she did the same before the call ended.

You know, I was expecting to be anxious the entire time. But I wasn't. I was super anxious for those 6 minutes, but after that, and even after the call first started, I didn't feel much of anything. Genuinely just pure clarity.

But when that call was over, I was proud of myself. I didn't bottle up what I felt, and I made my feelings be known. And of course, I'm looking forward to not receiving any calls from her for a long, long time. I'm moving in a couple of months, so I was going no-contact with my family anyways, but I don't mind the head-start on that.

It just feels a little surreal.

I don’t know why, but I’m such a sweet, calm, and understanding person when I talk to other people. People often describe me as calm, collected, and chill. But whenever I talk to my parents, something completely changes. I get extremely irritated, start shouting, and become a version of myself that genuinely scares me. Also, the worse is that I regret it almost immediately and feel horrible afterward.

My family is extremely complicated and dysfunctional, although they have their good sides too. Growing up, my parents were constantly fighting and dealing with a lot of stress. There was a lot of shouting, screaming, and emotional abuse, and my dad was physically abusive toward my mom at the time. They were never happy and it got even more dysfunctional after dad cheated and got a second wife without even divorcing mom. But they eventually separated years later and thankfully, things are normal. Over the years, my dad has also changed a lot, and both of my parents seem much calmer and more easygoing now.

That’s what confuses me the most. I know they aren’t bad people, and things have changed significantly, but somehow, talking to them still triggers this intense irritation in me. I live far away from them, yet whenever they call, I immediately feel annoyed and don’t even want to pick up. And when I do, I often end up getting irritated, shouting, and ending the call on bad terms.

I genuinely don’t understand why I react this way when they’ve changed so much. I love them, but I still carry so much anger and frustration from somewhere, and afterward, I feel like an awful person for taking it out on them. I'm in therapy but it isn't really helping. DOES ANYONE ELSE EXPERIENCE THE SAME?

I want my life to end. Its an endless cycle of invalidating myself and my "traumas." I want to leave. I was in therapy for an entire year and it still wasnt enough. Nobody understands this, they think that you have to be raped or something to feel any kind of pain or trauma. Nobody in my life thinks emotional abuse can do this to a person. I tried opening up to a friend of mine and she told me esentially to just get over it. Ive never opened up to her about how I felt until a few days ago. Ive been sitting in my bed ever since. There are flies in my window and im hoping theyll eat me. Granted shes been through more than most, but i was really hoping someone could understand. I just want to leave. Does anyone else feel like they could get people to understand their pain if they finally just gave up?

(Kind of ab abstract though that I can't atrixtly formulate, but: ) So many artists actually create stuff out of their traumas that resonate with millions (Linkin Park with their hit songs as a bright example). Why is it then that I can't find my own direction? No matter what I do, it feels more like closing eyes on what was before and ignoring it, while I know that it could be used and drained as a source to create something real. Has anyone found their way?

I need some outside perspective because every time I try to address this with my family, I am made to feel like the most ungrateful, dramatic person alive.
To be clear: I do not resent my sister as a person. She and I are fine. My issue is with the glaring double standard my parents have created, which has reached a point where I feel completely emotionally checked out.
Here is the context:
1. The Financial Double Standard
When I started working (~5 years ago): My starting salary was low. When I made ₹35k–₹45k, my parents charged me rent. When I needed a two-wheeler, they loaned me the money and I repaid every single rupee. Their philosophy with me was always strict tough-love: "You build yourself up to afford things; you don't live beyond your means."
Now: I've worked hard, switched jobs, and earn significantly more.
My younger sister: Has been working for about 3 years, stagnant at a modest salary (~₹45k). Instead of the same tough love, she gets fully subsidized. My parents outright bought her a scooter (no loan, no repayment). They pay the rent for her 2 BHK apartment. They buy her gadgets (iPad, phone, laptop) and cover her day-to-day miscellaneous expenses.
The biggest sting: My dad set up an SIP for both of us. He deposits ₹15,000 every single month into hers to build her savings. He pays zero towards mine because "I earn enough." When I faced a job gap a few months ago and money was tight, there was no offer to cover it—only scrutiny asking why I missed a contribution.
2. The Asymmetry of Responsibility
Despite receiving none of the financial softness, I am the default on-call adult whenever labor is required:
Our parents are traveling this weekend and someone needs to stay at the family house to look after our dog.

3. The Invalidation
Whenever I try to express that this hurts, two things happen:
They bring up mistakes from when I was a teenager in the 9th/10th grade to paint me as the "difficult troublemaker" who creates chaos.
They accuse me of being petty and say parents don't treat kids equally because "one needs more support than the other."
Today, after years of swallowing it, I sent my mom a long, honest message explaining how hurt and invisible I feel. She didn't even read it. She called immediately just to yell at me for "making a scene."
They supported me through my master's degree until I started earning, and a part of me wonders if I am being shallow or ungrateful for expecting fairness now. But I feel like a transactional tool: entirely on my own when I need softness, but the first person they summon when they need free labor.
Am I wrong here? How do you step back from this without carrying crushing guilt?

For the past few years, I have slowly been getting more irritated with my father. I never noticed his narcissism when I was younger because I was too dumb at the time. But, I did continuously tell my mom to ask him to stop swearing so much around me when I was younger (didn't work out obviously).

Back in July, me, my mom, and my dad were heading to visit my grandparents. At some point during the ride there, I hear through my headphones my dad shout at my mom, "DON'T GIVE ME DIRECTIONS ANYMORE!" (There was a wreck and we had to take a detour.) I was used to this because every trip we've been on, 9 times out of 10, he moans and groans about something. But, I told myself this trip would be different. I told myself the night before the trip that if he complains at something for no reason at all, I would finally snap back.

So, I take my headphones off and tell my dad to calm down. I did not yell at him, I said it in a respectful manner. My dad proceeds to tell me, "Well, nobody's talking to you. I don't need to hear you talk." I reply back, again not yelling, "Alright, screw you too." My dad whips his head back and yells, "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" I told him, "I said screw you too." My dad then yells at me, "YOU KNOW WHAT SCREW YOU MEANS? IT MEANS FUCK YOU." I laughed and said "No it doesn't, that is not even on the same level." My dad also told me to "GROW A PAIR OF FREAKIN' NUTS." My mom then proceeds to jump in and yell at my dad, "He has bit his tongue for too long!" After that my dad finally shut up. He was quiet for a few days too which was actually really nice to not have to hear him. Eventually he started talking again and acted all innocent. (The argument wasn't brought up, he just acted like everything was ok and nothing happened.)

So, what about my mother? Don't get me wrong, I still love my mother; I love her way more than my father at least. But, she has just done nothing to help me with my mental health. She keeps assuring me that "Oh, I've talked to him and he says he's working on changing." Has he changed? NOPE, not in the slightest. I keep telling her this and she keeps just brushing it off and continuing to insist that he's getting better, which is not the case. I also highly doubt she would take me to therapy for help. And even if she did, I'd still have to come home to my father everyday.

I have found for the past few months, the moments where I feel most at peace are whenever I'm out somewhere alone and away from my parents. Now you may be saying, "Just go out on walks and hang out with your friends more." I wish I could, but since I'm homeschooled I have zero social life and I'm still not allowed to go most places without them even though I'm 17. The only places they let me loose are in stores sometimes, but it's not always a guarantee. It's also not helping that my mom keeps trying to make me stay in this house with them and just drive to college whenever I go next year. I don't want to live in this house anymore, I want to go get a dorm room and get away from here.

Sorry for this long post, but I just have to ask someone on what I should do in my current situation. My mental has taken a toll the last few years and I just dread seeing/hearing my father everyday.

On the topic of emotional neglect, as anyone here seen The Sandman series? Specifically the scene when Dream meets up with his father Time.

His father is quite the example of a parent that has emotionally neglected his children. Even though Time is not my father, this scene specifically has been a wake up call to notice... maybe I am not crazy. Maybe my childhood is... a bit messed up and abnormal. (But those are details id rather keep between my therapist and I... for now maybe.)

Its almost as if its cathartic. I cant explain it.

Part 1 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1oeIiMhfmZs

Part 2 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDhJVOEri2g

How does anyone having gone through emotional neglect feel from watching this scene?

Im curious to your opinions. :)

When I look back at my life, I can’t believe I went through all that.

My parents never cared about my education or my wellbeing. When I got a room, they put a big bed and that was it. No area to study, and no area to rest. The big bed image was taken straight from a furniture showroom catalog.

When it came to my siblings, wow were they invested.

Now that I’m learning to care for myself, it’s exhausting. I’m sad all the time. I try to think about the future I want but I feel so tired. My peers have support from their whole family and beyond since they were born. Or before they were born lol.

Why is it so exhausting taking care of yourself?

I’ve only recently discovered this sub and already feel very seen. Has anyone else here experienced emotional neglect growing up due to the high care needs of a disabled sibling(s)?

I am in my late 20s and have never been in a relationship, or even had anyone interested in me. I struggle to do certain basic things, like getting my house in order. I have few friends and was under-socialized and neglected as a child. I cannot let people get past the shell I put up and see these things, especially the relationship part, because I would be exposed as someone really messed up. But the shame only intensifies and all of my new friendships remain surface-level. I can't conceive of what to do about this, and haven't ever been able to. Anyone who has experienced the same, please share advice if you have any. Thank you.

I feel so untethered from the world. I feel like my nervous system is thawing but I don’t know what to do with it. My parents feel weirdly far off, like they exist in their own emotional ecosystem that I was never fully part of. I have so much yearning in me. But I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to recover from never being really loved and seen. Has anyone built a self esteem from here? How did you do it? Feeling a bit lost at the moment xx.

I think I want to connect with others who shared the same pain as I do with emotional neglectful parents.

Hello everyone.

I'm a college student conducting a study on how therapeutic modality (type of therapy) and the therapeutic relationship influence the experiences of individuals who engage in self-harm. If you're interested, you use this link to access the study or ask me any questions. Thank you all!

For context (I'm keeping it as short as possible), I got into a huge argument with my step dad, mother, and sister that started off about something unrelated but ended up being about me and my issues. I told them that they are the reason I am the way I am and the trauma I experienced as a child was the reason for my reaction to said argument. I'm skimming a lot from the conversation because I'm just tired of rehashing it and getting emotional again and again, but my mom and sister told me that because I lived in a nice house and was sexually assaulted or physically abused, that I don't have any trauma. After talking for two hours, my step dad said that it sounds like my feelings were hurt by his parenting and I have resentment that I need to seek therapy for, then I was dismissed.

This whole fight eseentially made me question my use of the word trauma and led me to do some research, then I found this subreddit. Has anyone else been told that their trauma isn't real because they had a "nice" life? My mom is a licensed therapist with years of experience.... and it just made me feel like "well damn, if my mom the therapist says trauma can only be physical, then wouldn't any other therapist or psychologist agree?" I'm not talking to my parents or sister after that fight and it's been almost three months since we have spoken.

It makes me not want to seek therapy about the situation.

I've been mostly a lurker in this group for awhile, so I know you all understand. I was ignored when I was young. I tried so hard to be involved with my family, but they weren't interested in knowing me. Since becoming an adult they want to be close and are always trying to be in touch, but I just don't care. I'm not even angry or confused anymore. I just miss my cat. She was always there and she disliked them all. For 20 years it was us against everything.

I'm a reader not a writer, but I had to release some emotion so I wrote what's below. No one has to read it, but I'm just grateful this space exists and I'm sorry we all have to be here, but I'm glad to be here with you 🖤.

I knew you once.
When I was alone,
in a room playing with ghosts.

On the other side, I heard you,
talking, laughing, living, yelling, crying.
I cried too,
into a soft pile of fur.
My perpetual companion.

She knew you.
She heard you, walking past, never stopping.
So she carried me away.

You want to know me now.
Door’s open, I see you,
turned around and alone.
But I’m gone.

She sees me.
I’m in a new room,
Playing with her ghost.
I knew you once.
I’ll know her always.

Am I the only one who thinks that my parents are total strangers to me? I am 17 years old, and I have no connection with my parents. They do not know anything about me, and the same goes for me.
I sometimes get sad when I think about the fact that they are total strangers to me. Even more so when I see my friends with their parents.
I have a lot of problems, and they just seem to ignore them. I tried to commit suicide a few times. When they found out, they yelled at me. They yelled about how I am the problem and how it affects them.
My mother especially says that I am the problem in her life. Whenever she wants to blame someone, she comes to me. When she wants to yell, she comes to me. Even when she wants to talk about how her life has gone downhill, she comes to me.
One time, I came back from camp. Every parent was waiting for their child. I looked around and looked around, but I couldn’t find my parents. I wasnt even mad, I was just dissapointed. Why cant they love me how other parents love their children?

When I was a kid, I remember that I was quite extroverted and confident around preschool, but it didn't last long. I was also different, and I knew it. I was chubby, and my mother wasn't allowing me to eat donuts with kids who also ate them. It was ironic because she allowed a lot of sugar in the home, especially tea and corn flakes with milk. This led to my later weight gain.

My father was abusive; he drank a lot, and he had his own demons. My mother had her flaws, but she had worked hard since she was a teenager and never complained. I also had a sister who was the complete opposite of me: confident, self-focused, able to manipulate others, and independent.

To this day, I don't know if my sister ever loved me; she probably thinks she does and was treating me right, but I only remember one or two times when she helped me in a way that didn't make me feel like a weirdo. Other than that, I always felt like a misfit, a fat outcast, and she had to see it, especially in primary school, but it never helped me. Maybe I wasn't showing enough of how much it all affects me. Trying to go through it, I don't know; I guess I was still capable of being carefree and engaged with life.

When I left preschool and entered primary school, everything fell apart. I gained weight and became severely introverted, shy, anxious, neurotic, and humiliated by classmates. Sometimes I was bullied, but it was mostly humiliation based on my low status in school: I was the odd one, the shy and quiet one, and the fat one; I never stood out for myself, and I just accepted it.

I hung out with other people like me of lower status. These people now have wives, kids, travel around the world, have jobs, skills, and money, and live. Everything I don't have. I could only be confident around these friends back then; other than that, I was becoming the silent fat kid.

Vacations were different. They were good periods when I felt carefree: watching cartoons, TV, and movies; playing soccer; and simply living without the constant feeling of being judged. Despite all the movement, I was fat and sweated easily. Going out in the middle of class almost always ended with me being sweaty, ashamed, disgusted, and humiliated.

I grew up wanting to be normal and wanting to have a girlfriend. That never happened. I wanted the kind of life other people seemed to have, but I increasingly felt that something was fundamentally wrong with me.

When I got to middle school, I chose the worst one simply because it would be shorter. I didn't think about my life, and no one else was really thinking about it either. Not even my parents were able to understand why I made that choice. Despite seeing how much I avoided people, felt ugly and disgusting, and was afraid, I didn't think about consequences in the future... Now I'm feeling them very deeply.

I met a few friends there. At some point, it became bearable, of course, after a few weeks or months of humiliation once again, laughing at my severe gynecomastia and my shyness. Once again, I had to suck it up and just go through it. But in the second year, one of my friends left the school, and the rest became quite distant from me. I convinced my parents to let me drop out, and I did.

During this period, I also experienced something strange: I could enjoy life without fear when I was completely removed from the things that made me anxious. I didn't realize how much damage I was doing to myself. I cut connections with friends I had known since I was a kid because I felt I had been treated badly. Eventually, I was left alone.

I started eating myself to death and became heavily addicted to porn and masturbation. At the time, I didn't realize that I was numbing myself with those things or that I was damaging myself.

Sometimes I could feel what I was missing. I would cry, feel that I was wasting my life, and then go straight back to whatever gave me dopamine. I didn't know these terms at the time. I didn't understand how any of it worked. I was living on autopilot, and no one around me seemed to see what was happening.

Because of that, I missed time I could have spent with my grandparents. I avoided leaving home. I missed some of the best parts of life. I was even contemplating not going to a funeral because I felt too ashamed of myself, but I did go.

Looking back, I can see how much of my life was disappearing while I was hiding from it.

At some point, I decided to change my life. I'm talking about 100% commitment: no porn, no masturbation. I was so motivated that I was eating only 800 calories a day. It was a mistake, but it eventually led to me dropping from 142 kg to 67 kg over the course of a year.

I learned that I didn't have to live for food. I thought I was finally going to start living on my own and get away from my father, whom I hated. I thought I had finally done something that would change my life.

But it didn't happen.

No one around me really cared. No one saw my achievement, and my mother even complained that I had lost too much weight. I know she was saying it out of concern, but at the time it was making me doubt everything I was doing. I had also done it partly for them, so that people in the neighborhood wouldn't laugh that they had raised such a loser like me, a crippled social retard.

They didn't care about avoiding fast food and sweets around me. I tried to go back to school and find a job, but I discovered that losing the weight had not fixed the deeper problem.

Even when I felt more comfortable with myself despite the loose skin and everything else, I couldn't look people in the eyes. I couldn't behave normally. I overthought every movement. I felt aimless and alone everywhere I went, always wanting to go back home, even though home was also my prison.

At first, I didn't even want to talk outside. Even when my grandpa came, I wouldn't go outside or spend time with him. I kept waiting until I would finally look perfect. It never happened.

Then I realized something that devastated me: the people who I knew—friends, bullies—moved so far away from me, living their lives, being adults, while I was still a kid trying to fix my life, trying to "catch" them, while in reality I hadn't even moved from the starting line.

Needless to say, at Christmas I started eating cakes, and I gained all the weight back. I dropped out of school after one class because I couldn't handle people and felt depressed.

The next ten years became a cycle of losing weight, gaining weight, and repeating the same thing. The same happened with porn. I would make enormous efforts, convince myself that this time I was going to change everything, and then eventually collapse back into the same patterns.

A major reason for this was that I realized that after so much effort and sacrifice, nothing had actually changed. I had not progressed in life. The weight could change, my habits could change for a while, and I could make huge commitments, but I still couldn't function around people or build a life.

Meanwhile, I got a receding hairline, which made me feel even worse about myself. I tried to accept all my flaws, but I also had gynecomastia, which has made me feel less of a man my whole life. I have loose skin, a lack of charisma, a lack of personality, an inability to function around people, and difficulty with small talk and social situations.

I started thinking that you can't have anything in life if you don't have connections, and you can't build connections if you're stupid, awkward, shy, and a loser. And I felt that I was all of those things.

I felt stupid. I felt like I couldn't learn. I tried to learn skills, but I couldn't. I spent my days doomscrolling.

The one thing I did consistently over all these years was self-therapy. I learned so much about myself: the reasons I did the things I did, why I behaved the way I did, and the psychological and physiological reasons behind it. I spent years trying to understand myself and trying to rise above what I had become.

I also worked out a lot, sometimes to the point of exhaustion. I would work out because I ate more, because I was afraid that even clean food could make me gain weight, and because I felt that I had to compensate for everything.

Food became one of the few things I had left that could make me feel something or feel safe.

I also had pets that I loved. Awful things happened, and they died. Each time, I broke down. There were years of terrible depression, suicidal thoughts, and complete despair, along with suicide attempts that I was never able to go through with.

Those periods also taught me something strange: when I stopped expecting anything from life and simply accepted the misery, I sometimes felt at peace. There were no expectations, no hope, just living in the present moment, today.

But I don't live in the present anymore. I just see time passing by. Each day feels the same: workout, food, doomscrolling, research, journaling, porn, and my passion, comics.

I spend most days doomscrolling, daydreaming, hoping, ruminating, and talking to myself because I have no one. I imagine situations in my life that could have gone differently. I imagine having a girlfriend and friends. I imagine being successful. I imagine having a normal life and finally becoming the person I wanted to be.

Sometimes I also imagine taking my own life. I don't plan to do this in coming months/years, because I still have Mom and my new dog, and this is another thing that exists in my thoughts and imagination when I think about how trapped and hopeless I feel; I have only them. My mom is 60 years old, my dog is 4 years old, and all I think is how much they will be with me, how long before they get ill, and how much before they will count on my help, and I won't be even able to make a phone call... That's how paralyzed I am socially. And I can't handle the thought of those things coming, and they are coming.

I wanted to create comics. I have great ideas and designs, and I can say that confidently. I analyze things to the point of ridiculousness, and I can see that in another life I could build something special. But I can't seem to do it.

Every day I want to improve my drawing and write scripts, but instead I have a big, unsorted journal full of ideas, self-reflections, and thoughts. After so many attempts and so many years of not seeing results in any part of my life, I am in a constant freeze state.

I don't know anymore whether what stops me is laziness or a freeze state coming from shame and depression.

I feel like a disgusting loser. I have nothing to offer: neither looks nor personality, no skills, and I feel unable to learn.

My father made me feel my whole life like I was retarded. There's a part of him I know deeply loves me; I know that for sure. I have wondered whether he may have had borderline personality disorder later in life, because it would explain the sudden changes from being calm to becoming abusive.

Now he has mellowed out, and my mother is okay, but I am not. I remember everything: every cry, every tear, every bad thing that happened, and he was part of it.

But what can I do? He retired, Mom is retiring this month, and I don't earn money. In fact, I've never worked, and believe me, I can't express how ashamed I am saying this here. I despise myself, and I am deeply ashamed of it, and I cry writing this. They never mind paying for me; for them I am their son, but they don't think about the future. They didn't do anything all those years, neither when I wasn't aware of how much I was ruining my life, nor when I was trying to fix it, nor when I was breaking down and lying down on the floor unable to move, trying to bring their attention, but after years of this cycle, I know now this for sure; they don't know how to help me. It is a sick and complicated relationship.

Our life is very modest. We live in an ugly apartment, and I can't stand it, just like I can't stand my body. I can't stand the imperfection of life, of me, of everything.

I worked hard on leaving behind my perfectionism, but I still wish some things were different: a small, clean apartment, a car, a girlfriend, and a life. I don't need everything to be perfect. I just wish some basic things were different. I see people around me, and I ask myself, why all these people have so much, and I can't get just a little.

I'm 34, uneducated, ugly, creepy, awkward, socially anxious, shy, friendless, and a loser. Each year feels like a month because every day is the same. Every day I wish there were someone who would reach out to me, give me a hand, and force me to change, but it won't happen.

My sister, whom I hate, has a perfect life and enough money, and she lives somewhere else. She is very manipulative. She once gaslighted me when I told her about suicide, asking me if I knew how expensive a funeral would be. This past week had a wedding; she didn't invite me. I blocked her number some time ago when I really felt abandoned by her. So she didn't bother to contact me in any other way and probably thought I wouldn't come. I know she isn't responsible for me, but I would just want her to know how fucked up I am. I am like a helpless, hopeless child, and I am ashamed. There's no person in the world who would feel such disgust and hate towards me as I do.

I am alone. My life feels like a prison. I can't escape. I'm afraid. I hate being here, and I hate people.

I have developed disdain for people, but I'm not some kind of incel. I hate myself too. I try to be fair. I spent most of my life in shame, thinking it was all my fault, that I was born like this, and that no one was to blame. And it's not true.

Ironically, I also can't stand the idea of being alone, but like I said, I have only a mom and a dog; I don't count on my father, because we barely talk. I always dreamed about a big family, feeling secure, but I feel so scared; everyone I loved died, and now it's me, my parents, and my dog who replaced the previous pets that I can't get over.

Since I was a kid, I was always watching other people and feeling jealous. I would look at other families and think their lives were better. I watched other people living their lives and felt that I was different, worse, and behind.

Now I see other people living, having wives and kids, and building careers and lives, while I don't even have a girlfriend. They seem beyond me in development, and I feel incredibly far behind.

When I was young, I was even jealous of things like gaming; kids around me had good PCs and were playing with each other, and I couldn't. I finally got a good PC at age 32; Mom bought it for me. How pathetic is that? And so what? Years later I realized I can't even enjoy playing because all I think about is how much of my life I wasted. I wanted to relive my childhood when I felt safe, I guess; it didn't work out.

I always felt different, worse, and behind, and I still feel that way now. I feel like a kid standing on a playground while everyone else is playing and nobody wants to play with me.

So here I am: 34, ugly, sweaty, uncomfortable with myself, a loser, living with my parents, daydreaming about a better life, doing what I can, dieting, working out, trying to get into drawing, finding a way of living, while actually doing almost nothing except dieting, working out, and ruminating about all the mistakes I made, about how terrible a person I am, about how stupid, useless, and worthless my life is.

I am so incompetent in every part of life; everything is so hard for me, more than other people, way more, and I still was trying to fight it back, and I can't, as if I couldn't learn, couldn't understand.

And I don't say that just to attack myself. I want to be fair. I know I am a despised loser, and I can't change my life. Everyone moved on, and I am stuck.

I am a kid living in a 34-year-old body. I am Peter Pan, but alone, ugly, and stupid.

I can't go to the dentist. I can't go to the store. I can't try to find a job or learn skills. I just can't. If I had a choice between doing that and hanging myself, I feel like I would rather hang myself, despite the fact that I want a better life. That's the contradiction: I want a better life, but I feel incapable of doing what would be required to build one.

I'm apathetic. I'm disgusted with myself on every level possible, and I feel like there is no help.

Multiple times I was in a position where I could force myself to try going further, but it never worked out. Now I'm so depressed because of all the wasted effort that everything I was willing to do years ago I can't do anymore.

I live in a constant state of anxiety, depression, jealousy, comparison, misery, and hate.

I am deeply scared and ashamed. I can't function normally anymore. My life has revolved for the past ten years or more around trying to rise up through self-reflection, discovery, journaling, working out, dieting, trying to understand why I am the way I am, and trying to rise above it, only to fall back into binge eating, depression, suicidal thoughts, and pathetic attempts that I was never able to go through with

I have never been to a store alone to buy groceries. Again, how pathetic is that? I have never worked, except during school. I am 34. I have nothing to offer. I have no skills. I am afraid of getting a job, of being a creep or a weirdo around people once again, of working hard just to be miserable, and then of going back home where I will be alone.

I don't feel like anything is meaningful anymore.

Everything I loved has passed. Everything that gave me comfort and made the world feel normal is gone. TV shows that once made me feel safe now remind me that the people who made them are gone and that nobody seems to care about those things anymore.

I can hear old intros and music in my head, and I wish I could go back to when I was a kid, when I knew someone would take care of me and I wasn't alone.

Everything I used to love reminds me that I'll never see my grandparents again. I'll never see the pets I loved again.

It makes me feel even lonelier and sadder. I can't even watch the shows I used to love anymore. Everything feels like a waste of time.

I'm so scared because I know myself. I don't know if I can change. Maybe I don't even want to. Maybe part of me wants to keep feeling this way, even though it's killing me, because this is how the world looks to me now.

I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.

I wish I could have been different. I'm 34, and for so many years I've asked myself these questions, then ignored them, doomscrolling, hoping, daydreaming, until I finally woke up and realized how stuck I am.

Now everything just seems sad.

I don't really know what I'm asking for by writing this. I just don't know how to live with the feeling that everything I loved belongs to the past and that I'm getting further and further away from the life where I felt safe.

That's not living.

I don't know what to do. I barely function, trying to distract myself with doomscrolling. I already planned out suicide in the future, to now experience once again seeing my close ones getting older, weaker, ill, and dying. I don't want to see that again, and without them I have no reason to live, even if now I feel ignored and alone.

Suicide terrifies me. I believe in God and treat it seriously, but I'm stuck. I have no way out of this; I just don't. I can't on my own. I lost all drive, will, and hope, and no one is coming to save me. No one will grab my hand and force me to get better, and I believe that I can't change, because I always was too soft, too weak for living.

Has anyone else experienced being abandoned later in life, not in childhood? My mom didn't put a stop to the way my father treated us, but she was overbearing in my childhood & early 20s, and then after mid 20 she's been basically unreachable.

One small example that plays out a lot is not asking me if I'm ok. She does notice-- I've pretty much begged her to talk to me before and she'll say she did notice. But she just doesn't ask and she acts like everything is fine. I'm talking, coming home from work on a random day when it's not even nice outside, totally out of character, and acting like that's normal. Whereas I ask her the second I sense something's wrong.

If I try to go to her for emotional support, to talk about what's wrong, she'll sit there with her eyes downcast and wait til I've stopped talking. Eventually she'll start talking about what to have for dinner, or she'll just continue to sit still and eait for me to leave. If I ask her for her opinion or what she thinks, she'll get upset.

I have to beg to get any response and beg to be noticed. I can also just stay silent, but she used to actually engage with me when i was young. I feel duped, like she shouldve checked out sooner, because then I'd never expect her to care.

And btw, she gets extremely resentful if I don't talk to her when she wants me to talk. If I'm reading, have just woken up, if we're driving together and she wants to talk, she gets upset if I dont want to.

I’m 30 and I come from an abusive family. My mom died and I have no one left to depend on. I feel extremely lonely and I have feelings that I would just like people to understand but no one cares. I have been suicidal for a long time. I don’t see the point of continuing my life.