Dear Quiet

Trigger Warning: talk of abuse from parents, including Narcissistic abuse, weapons, SA, and animal cruelty.

That’s a heck of a trigger warning, eh? But I needed to add it, because I don’t want to make anyone’s reading experience an unpleasant one. I want everyone to know what they’re going to read in the next few paragraphs.

The WordPress prompt today is:

And as the title says, it wasn’t the experience that helped me grow. The experience itself was quite traumatic. It was my reaction to it that helped me finally grow and move on.

A Little Background of the Situation

My stepfather had been abusive and cruel to me as far back as I can remember. My mother hooked up with this guy when I was just a baby. My biological father wanted nothing to do with me.

For YEARS this man had me in the palm of his hand, throwing abuse after abuse my way. Cruelty. Gaslighting. Sexual harassment, even as a child… I mean… Everything listed in the trigger warning, so I won’t go into it again.

Even after kicking me out of the house at age sixteen, the abuses didn’t stop. Mostly because I still wanted access to my mom. And to reach her, I had to go through him.

The Experience That Changed Everything

In the mid-2010’s, I had been in contact with my family via Facebook. Everything seemed fine and good. Better, even.

So I decided to move right next to their house to be closer to them. I was getting the chance I always wanted. The chance to repair the relationship and have a real family!

Unfortunately, that’s not how it worked.

The abuse resumed in earnest, as if I had never left. As if I were still a child. I was in my late 20’s by then. And because I was an adult, I did what no Narcissist wants you to do.

I stood up for myself.

That got me a shotgun pointed at my face.

That’s when I realized, this isn’t just “my stepdad.” This is a grown man. A dangerous man. Someone who could do more than just hurl cruelty my way. Rather, a grown man who could actually hurt me… or worse.

I quickly packed my bags and moved to a home further away from them. As a parting gift to me, or as a punishment for standing up for myself, my stepfather killed my cat.

Scared, I moved again. This time, to the other side of the country.

Reality Hit Me

Something broke in me that day. But with that shattering came reality. I realized that I would never and could never win my parents’ love. They couldn’t love me like normal people.

That’s all I asked. That’s all I ever asked. I only asked for “normal.”

I never asked for money or help (even when I was struggling on my own ages 16-19). I never asked for anything other than normalcy. A healthy, normal parent-child relationship.

But they could never give me that.

What I Did

I accepted this. Nearly 30 years old, I realized that the hope of having normal parents… Well, that was never going to happen.

And I also realized that I needed to protect myself. I could never allow myself to be lured into their traps again. No matter how good things looked from the outside (or on Facebook), I could never trust them again.

My life started at 30 years old.

I went to college and earned my Bachelor’s. I read the Bible and became a Christian. I made good, healthy friends and became part of my local community (no more Facebook for me!). I married a GOOD man and we have built a family together.

Ever since moving to the other side of the country, my life has flourished. But because I am a Christian and I have forgiven everything (though I choose to share my story and yes, it still hurts), I do keep in touch. This time only with my mom, and only via text.

My reaction to the experience helped me grow. I could have easily ended up in despair, but I chose to move and begin again instead. And I finally have what I always wanted.

My life is normal today.

Thank you for reading. I left a lot out in order not to upset anyone who might read this. I hope it wasn’t too unpleasant to read.

Take care,
Dear Quiet

signal.log: 3.2.2026
experience / cathartic
engaging: sharing_mode