When I was in psychosis I absolutely hated my parents. But since I came out of it we are close.
My parents were both young when my mom got pregnant with me and my dads family came up with a plan for him to get out of paying child support by joining the military. Apparently there was a thing in the 80’s where they don’t look for you. Or maybe it’s favoritism. IDK but it worked. Anyway when i was growing up, if my mom wasn’t with one of my goofy stepdads, we were in near poverty. I understand he didn’t want to be a dad but at least take financial responsibility. He could have manned up at any point after that but he didn’t.
I used to hate my mom because she had me put in the local behavioral ward probably at least 4 times in 10 years. She just always thought that would “fix” me even though it never did me any good. I need some audial distraction and life is unbearable but I couldn’t bring my mp3 player or any kind of music there. So how do I recover when the meds are completely ineffective and my one way to cope is gone? The answer is I faked it. This place didn’t even have individual therapy.
One time the local ward was at capacity so she took me to the next state over and there I was kept immobilized for hours even though I had just gotten admitted and had no chance to break any rules. Another time there the nurse or orderly decided I hadn’t hopped to fast enough when he gave me an order so he put me in a claw hold, pinching my armpit, leaving a huge bruise, dragging me down the hall. I had been pretty loopy at prior to that assault. Anyway my mom noticed the bruise and tried to get me out and in the time between then and getting out I was choked into unconsciousness for the crime of punching the metal locker in my room.
So even though my mom got me out of there, I blamed her because, prior to being admitted they were going back and forth about me apparently being a “medical adult” at 15. My point being, if their that goofy, why did you leave me with them?
Anyway I realized my mom was doing the best that she knew how. She struggles with some depression, so she could probably barely cope sometimes herself. My dad, I still hate, even though it’s weird to hate someone you’ve never met.
I hated my dad growing just like all 3 of my sisters. He’s the only one that wanted to get me help when I needed it.