separating this from other things because its not really relevant to put my bullshit on other peoples threads, but i grew up in a family where my younger sister took after my mom. i love them both, but it was also an environment that fed my anxiety like no other.

specifically, i would often be loudly passionate about things, as many children, teenagers, and young adults are wont to do. my mom, as the kids would say, felt this was "cringey" or something, and would tease me for being outspokenly passionate about all kinds of things...

...from cartoons and anime, to historical reenactment and weaponry, to liberal politics and environmentalism. it got to a point where i would be scared to show excitement for something because i wouldn't know if it would meet her "approval".

when I was in high school, i became more politically aware and socially conscious. there was an economic recession, wildfires threatening my house, and significant local and national elections/ballot measures. i was not shy in engaging with my parents on these topics.

my mom, in an attempt to? shut me down? dismiss me? not talk about politics? i will likely never know? would say "okay, norma rae".

i'd never seen that movie, i didn't know exactly what the reference was, i just knew that she sounded like she wanted me to shut up. (still haven't seen the movie. probably never will.)

i was like, sixteen. i hadn't been diagnosed with anxiety yet, i was still trying to figure out how to survive high school. and my mom would repeatedly shut down or make light of my attempts to engage with current events.

my mom's attitude towards my interests was reflected by my sister, on a more extreme scale. in hindsight i can see a lot of it for what it was, her attempts to connect with our mom and receive attention and support. in hindsight AND in the moment, it was bullying

my mom's vague dismissal, in my sister, turned into ridicule and belittling. i was a nerd and that was a bad thing. i was a friendless loser and that was my fault. i was ugly and bad at things. i was stupid and fat. i talked too much and no one cared.

in hindsight, no wonder Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is so relatable. but the long and short and point of this thread isn't that my family is kind of shitty (all families are, and i will fight anyone who says they arent because theyre probs the shitty one)

the point is that our families fuck us up. sometimes we're blessed with the opportunity to witness growth or receive genuine apologies and amends. sometimes we are never going to be in a position to have our hurt acknowledged.

a refusal to confirm that something happened in the past, or that harm was done, intentional or not, does not mean that the harm that was done and the feelings that resulted are not real or right. and the additional hurt brought by that refusal is entirely understandable.

my mother is never going to accept that she's contributed to fucking up both of her children. my sister and i have both acknowledged that. i've been able to talk with other people to validate my perceptions of my family relationships. this is a privilege that i have.

but knowing this intellectually, it doesn't mean that i'm not still fucked up by it. as soon as i felt like i found my voice, after a painfully shy and quiet childhood, my mother immediately wanted to hush me up. thats going to continue to influence how i communicate, even now.