My father, a classic self-righteous narcissist, married my mother, a mentally ill, sexually abusive tyrant. Together, they created a monstrous home filled with terror and despair. To outsiders, we were the perfect church-going family. Instead of dealing with their own childhood abuse issues, my parents instituted a system where neither would ever take responsibility for their actions. The only place to vent their rage was at the helpless children living in their home. I was the scapegoat as many truth-tellers are. It would take decades for me to unwind the complicated system of abuse and to understand where the source of my crippling anxiety and depression came from.
Why couldn’t I function like everybody else?
Why was I terrified all the time?
Why couldn’t I ever be happy and at peace about anything?