My Life with a Narcissistic

Returning to suicide watch.

As a struggling writer, wanting to feel valued at all, it's ironic how taken for granted I am. Neglected when I need help; abandoned at my worst, then summarized as "Lazy, doing nothing."

And I again have to reaffirm how I am being "Given support" but not being supported

whilst being "fed" without being given any chance to feed myself. And to top it off, I am considering many things on the premise of "Internet will be turned off when mom's not home."

I haven't been motivated, I've been abused with a mom playing the fucking victim card;

'When I was your age... Insert a straw argument about how they had an insufferable life, but because their life is boo-hoo bullshit, all other intentional harm they commit is justified.

Even if someone needs wifi to study, write, or be potentially productive, because she suffered, everything else be damned. Because she was hurt. Because the world revolves around an ethical dilemma of which the universe orbits her, she doesn't orbit the universe.

I haven't been happy, I've been abused with a mom playing the fucking "I had it hard" card.

I haven't been independent, I've been fucked by a mom playing the "You're not being dehumanized; I was never a human" card.

I haven't been safe. My mom's a fucking narcissist. My sister picked up her sadistic fucking attitude and anger issues. If it's not narcissistic personality disorder, it's far from safe.

Mom is an insensitive fuck. Dad is an ignorant shit. And the one time I plan a suicide, mom guilts me and pretends to care. I am not even sure what's more desirable, the killing the devil, or just going straight to fucking hell. I am not capable of handling the amount of tension and tones my mom plays at just to have her way.

"I gave up my dreams to raise kids," while downplaying abuse. Her dreams shouldn't amount to shit when the principle is all about her. All about her. Entirely, absolutely, completely, her.

"Just tell me when you want to be productive" to the child she abused. "Speak to your abuser about working a job in a business that isn't playing well enough."

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Tell your introverted, scared shitless child to speak to the person they are legitimately fucking scared of. Expecting an answer? Yeah. Suicide. Why the fuck would anybody give an answer under that pressure? Negative reinforcement is necessarily abusive. It's not only abusive, it's knowingly negligent.

I had a habit of coping with the tedium by practicing self-bondage when nobody was home.

I had a habit of playing with anything that could potentially kill me.

I had a habit of being AROUND things, knowing that a single mistake or risk could end my life. And that was okay-- that was absolutely the standard of daily suicide I would set. I had no valve and I am a fucking torrent. I haven't vented for a while and I tried to write more, only being disturbed to write. Scared to write. Scared to consist a story, any story at all, knowing that I would never get to publish it.

Mom did not, does not and will not help me. Her problem is that same bitching about making money that's ironically stopping ME from making money. "I can't do all this alone" she says, while abusing my sister.

Of late, I've heard nine facts, minimum, that have run true every single fucking day.

Mom does not set any standards, the household is dysfunctional as fuck, my sister wants to make money and leave ASAP, mom protests more than the entire fucking french. Pardon.