The Abusive Family Theatre - the Biggest Performance of Your Life

At home we were the worst children that had ever graced the earth. If you combined every serial killer in some sort of machine and produced their offspring (let’s just pretend that’s how babies are made) that was us. Everything we did was to upset my parents.

Went straight to the bathroom after school to...you know go to the bathroom? Well you're an ungrateful child that just wants to avoid us and that's so hurtful since we pay for the school you just came home from and maybe you don't deserve to go to such a nice school.

Wanted to spend a weekend with your friends instead of being ignored by your mother at home? Well you're never home and don't care about us at all. You only care about your friends and they're going to leave you one day unlike us who are family and will love you forever. How dare you be so ungrateful and cruel.

You get the idea and if you’re reading this blog I’m sure you’ve also had your mind boggled by this logic.

Outside of the home It was a completely different story. We were the best trophy children you could ask for. My father would boast about my university graduation from a well looked upon university. My mother would talk about my independence and how I worked full time in an office job (the pinnacle of success to my parents). They would talk about my salary and how they never made that much money at my age. Outside of the home I was a child prodigy. You would have thought I cured cancer with one hand and freed slaves with another.

The ‘perfect daughter’ was the role I had to perform outside of the home. I was present at all family parties with a smile plastered on my face. I knew from an early age that matters of the household stayed in the household so I stuck to my pre-approved topics a.k.a my achievements. My parents would flit from social circle to social circle parading their perfect girl and we were the perfect family and wouldn't you just love to be us.

I remember once going to the doctors office and the receptionist telling me my mother was raving about how much I had accomplished.

“My mother?” I gawked at her.

“Of course! She talks about you every time she comes it” the receptionist said back with enthusiasm.

When you’re met with this kind of interaction it makes it hard to believe that anyone would believe you when you tell them your parents are abusive. This masquerade of normalcy meant that I felt I could never tell anyone what my home life was really like. On the outside my parents were loving and attentive. The societal script is that parents are loving and attentive. So not only was I trying to convince people my parents were abusive, but I would be going up against the society norm that parents unconditionally love their children. It’s a lot of weight to put on anyone.

Looking back it's insane, but when you're in the midst of abuse it doesn't really feel like you have a choice. The options were to play along and have a bullshit, but pleasant evening OR not play along and suffer the consequences at home. I easily made my decision.