It took me over 30 years to understand that I wasn’t the one creating chaos. I was just the only one who couldn’t stand to leave things unresolved. The only one asking for clarity, accountability, presence. And the more I asked, the more I was punished for it.
My parents always made me feel like my need to talk, to understand, to reflect, to make things right, was some form of emotional immaturity. They turned my need for closure into evidence that I was the problem. But in reality, they were the ones who refused to face anything uncomfortable, and I was just the one who couldn’t let it disappear into silence.
I have ADHD, and I know that part of my brain is wired for loops, for finding meaning, for not letting go until something makes sense. But instead of helping me learn to regulate that, they used it against me since I could think. They shut down every conversation that didn’t serve them. They denied things that were just said. They insisted they “didn’t remember” or “meant something else” anytime I reflected something painful back to them. I only got diagnosed and proper treatment when I sought it out myself in my early twenties, because I was struggling a lot.
If I didn’t drop it, if I repeated the question, if I calmly pointed out the contradiction, or tried to prevent them rewriting history in real time, it escalated. Not because I was yelling or cruel, but because I wasn’t accepting their script. I wasn’t playing along. That made me the enemy. Incidious even, just out to hurt them. So any weapons free. No matter my age.
Eventually I realized they don’t want resolution. They don’t want truth or clarity. They don’t want to grow. They don’t want me to stand up for myself. Not really.
They want control. They want to be seen as kind, generous, selfless, and perpetual victims. All while leaving a trail of emotional harm and destruction that no one is allowed to name. And the moment you do, they flip it on you. Suddenly you’re too emotional. Too intense. Too invested in the past. Broken. Suddenly you’re unstable for not moving on.
But how do you move on when the people who hurt you insist nothing ever happened? And if it did they didn’t mean to and don’t remember? Is “if you say so” any actual acknowledgement or accountability? What if they are to this day hurting you in the same ways?
The final straw wasn’t even that dramatic. Just another complete denial. Another rewrite of reality. Another moment of “I didn’t say that,” “you misunderstood,” “I don’t remember.”
After deflecting multiple attempts of him twisting words, I got him to admit what he actually said, and that I understood correctly. His response was that he meant something else, but it was somehow still my fault for misinterpreting him.
This is how deep it goes people. They avoid accountability for what they said by changing the meaning afterwards, but that’s not even enough. Now the miscommunication and frustration it caused is too much for them to carry, and is therefore blamed on you. When their entire defense is they supposedly misspoke. And you heard them correctly.
I ended the conversation when the blizzard of gaslighting and dismissal just became too ridiculous. To maintain some semblance of reality, again I asked if he said something he said seconds ago. He denied. I repeated the question as a final attempt. He paused. Looked down. And theatrically said “No I did not”. With actual pride and defiance. Way to stand up for yourself dad.
I saw it clearly then. He knows. It was never going to change. They weren’t going to listen. And the only way out of the loop was to leave it.
I blocked them. Not out of anger, but out of survival. I expected inner turmoil. Sadness, fear and loneliness.
But for the first time, I felt calm. Like my brain had space to breathe. Like I wasn’t constantly walking into a trap, even though I understood better how it worked than them. Like I got to hear my own voice without it being silenced, doubted or twisted. Without needing it validated. A strange grounding that feels unfamiliar and scary, but is surprisingly stable, calm and confident. I finally feel in control.
The thing with emotionally immature parents is that they have no meaningful way of caring for their own emotional needs, so those needs spill out, especially at home. As a child, you end up cleaning up that emotional spillage just to survive. Over time, this teaches you a deeply rooted distortion: that in order to be loved, you must shrink yourself and take responsibility for what others refuse to manage.
The problem is that those things are never actually within your control. Any sense of influence you feel is an illusion, tightly regulated by them. And they use that illusion against you.
First, they instill a constant fear and sense of duty. Then they offload their emotional labor onto you. When you try to resolve the harm or make sense of it, they shut you down or punish you for trying. You explain, you clarify, you give them every chance. But it’s not that they need more time or space. They know you need them to participate. That’s the point. They don’t want to change. This is simply the most efficient way to neutralize you while keeping access to you.
Now that their endless loops are silent, something else remains: the parts that actually belong to me. The things that are within my domain and my responsibility. And not only do I feel capable of handling those, I’ve realized I’m already doing well. Loops still exist. Some are complex. Some are still active and bugging me. But they are mine to carry. And they are loops I’ve always had the power to either close, or accept are currently running.
Now, finally, I have the space, energy, and confidence to start doing exactly that.
If you’re someone who needs things to make sense, who struggles to let go until things add up, who gives a shit about truth, or is just tired of being misunderstood even though you’re as clear as you can be, I just want to say: you are not broken. You are not too much. You are not obsessive or manipulative or selfish for needing honesty and coherence. You are awesome and unstoppable for it. That’s why it’s weaponized against you.
Lately it’s starting to dawn on me more and more. I was right. About all of it. The whole time.