I Suck People Suck Society Sucks

My Parents Suck

Parents mess their kids up, sometimes even without realizing they’re doing so.

I think the primary challenge to the new blogger (at least one as anxious as myself) is getting over the fear that someone they know — friends, family, or coworkers — might read their writings and judge them, perhaps harshly. Anyone who has blogged for more than a few months knows this is an unfounded fear: most people don’t actually give two shits about what you’ve written let alone recalling the fact that you’ve been writing in the first place. I recall my cousin asking me about this blog a year or so ago: “So you’ve have, uh, what’s it called? A blog? And you write? That’s really cool. I haven’t actually read any of it yet though…” Yeah. No shit. No one in the family does and I’ve stopped worrying about them reading it a long time ago. I feel like I can bash them all I want and no one would ever know.

This post will be a little different though if you read the title again. My parents do “follow” this blog on Facebook even though I don’t think they’ve read a single thing I’ve written. Ever. It seems fitting for the topic at hand, doesn’t it? Despite not reading anything I’ve written, I think them seeing a big, fat, blue and white banner saying MY PARENTS SUCK might get them to change their minds, if only temporarily. I’m not going to post this on Facebook. I’m not scared they’ll read this, I’m just worried that if I write this in the frame of mind that they could read it I might not be as open as I would be otherwise. And if they do read it? Who cares? It might do them good to read it and especially so if I wrote it as blatantly truthful as possible because I thought that they wouldn’t read it. So this will just be a secret between myself and those who find it themselves.

I don’t think kids realize how much their parents affect them growing up. I’ve always felt separate and unique from everyone else and being a child was no different. I’ve always felt like myself and never considered that my family/parents where shaping me as a person. Obviously being around parents/guardians as an impressionable kid will change you, it just never felt like it at the time. As a child you also have no outside perspective as to how other parents really are. All you are aware of your narrow personal situation are are hopelessly ignorant of other families. You don’t realize that other families can and are horribly fucked up or immensely better than yours unless you have knowledge of them. In short, being raised in a fucked up home can easily lead you to think the situation is normal. You grow up inevitably altered and perhaps even damaged without even being aware of it. It’s scary.

As an adult I’ve grown to appreciate how many flaws probably stem from the damage my parents inflicted, usually unintentional damage. And I want to stress that we (my sister and I) didn’t not have a bad upbringing with a capital B. No one was molested, abused, or tortured. We never starved. We never suffered. But I think this made it harder for me to accept the damage; by not having a Bad upbringing how much damage could’ve been done? It doesn’t take a dramatic event to mold you though. The small and nearly imperceptible hits you take daily slowly bend and form you even if you’re unaware of it.

The Mom

My mom was crazy. Unhinged. Angry. Depressed. Memories are vague from my childhood but she would always be yelling at us. Tell us how ungrateful we were and how we didn’t do anything to help out around the house. Her anger was always relegated to yelling and despite constant threats to “beat our asses” she was rarely violent. We’d usually laugh it off because she was never a threat. A dog with a fearful bark but no bite. My dad and her would scream and fight at each other and I vaguely recall her grabbing knives a few times, but usually would just throw random shit at him. He never seemed to do anything bad to her, but I later come to understand what I had missed with age; my dad wasn’t a saint.

She was very selfish and self-centered. Everyone had to cater to her. She is still this way although she has improved immensely over the years. But she is still a fucked up person. You always need to do the work, or to have an understanding of her unique situation; she always needs to be catered towards. If she owes you money, for example, you need to drive to her house and get it yourself. And you need to be grateful that she even paid you back the money! “I hope you’re happy” she has said to me a few times upon paying me money for our mutual phone bill. Yes, I’m serious. She also “borrowed” $200 from me once and upon nagging her for a payment, she wondered why I didn’t want to help her out and wasn’t grateful for her raising me. It wasn’t the point, I said, a loan was a loan and you can’t just change the terms of what was agreed upon. I still don’t have my $200 either…ANYWAYS…

Apparently she struggled with mental illness and depression the entire time we were kids (and still does), but it always seemed like an excuse. She’d endlessly bitch, yell, complain, and scream at us and justify doing so with her depression. If you tried to argue any opposing point of view about anything she’d usually break down crying, play the victim, and talk about her depression. Always on the attack until you attack her and then she is the victim. And endless “woe is me” story. You literally cannot tell her she’s wrong in a firm way without her being a victim. Considering the previous paragraph, depression always seemed a way for her to make anything instantly about herself. She was the one hurting, no one else understood this, and to hell with anyone else suffering: it was her that needed the most help.

The Dad

My dad was much more “normal” I guess, but his demons and flaws were just not as obvious to us kids. I remember writing a paper in fifth-grade calling him “my hero” and also remember my mom being ultra-pissed that I wrote it. “He’s not a hero, you don’t know the bad things he’s done.” I attributed it to her being mean and pissy (like always) but surprisingly she was onto something. Dad is fucked up, and maybe even more so than our mom. We just didn’t know it really. Mom was openly fucked up whereas dad wasn’t.

He sometimes would drink and would become mean and violent. He’d throw shoes at us. Always the loving father sober he would be transformed by a few drinks into a total asshole. He told us many times “I never wanted you guys anyways” or something along those lines. When we’d get upset by it he’d claim that “drinking made him tell the truth.” It’s one of those things you don’t think sticks with you, but apparently when you write a blog post about it decades later it still hurts. LIke, shit, that was really mean. I was really hurt by it. Luckily he didn’t drink that much, maybe once a month if I could guess. But when he did drink things weren’t good.

That was a classic sign of my dad’s flaws: being too hidden to be honest with himself or others. He’s still that way too, maybe even more so. Passive-aggressive as anyone could ever be. He never directly insulted you or had an opinion as most of his actual opinions and thoughts were hidden behind jokes where he could say what was on his mind and laugh it off if challenged or questioned. Anything emotional was hidden. I’m assuming this is why he’d be a dick when drunk. Everything came flooding out and you couldn’t really blame him because he kept packing baggage deep within himself. And this is why my mom would be immensely mad at him; he would say smart-ass “joking” remarks that were very incendiary towards her, and her being fucking crazy in the first place would totally lose it. He’d pick at her, subtly insult and provoke her and all of this went right over the heads of the short and ignorant children that we were. Dad wasn’t evil, but as mom was well aware he wasn’t a saint either.

I’m certain my dad’s emotional immaturity stems from his mom’s — our grandma — death from stroke when he was twelve. I assume he was faced with some serious emotional shit and coped by just stuffing it deep inside and ignoring it. He had a slew of brothers and sisters and being one of the oldest required him to grow up quickly and act as a parental figure. As I’m talking about myself being fucked up by my childhood situation, you also have to realize my dad is also fucked up from his childhood situation. You can’t blame him I guess. I guess you can’t blame anyone really. It’s one big giant chain of fucked up people raising fucked up kids. And so on.

And Myself

And now onto myself. How am I fucked up? That’s hard to answer because knowing yourself is hard to do, at least it is for me. I struggle with depression, maybe some genetic holdover from my mom. I don’t know. And my depression is usually hidden, tucked away, and kept quiet possibly due to my mom’s bombastic treatment of the subject. Remember depression was her go-to, catch-all reasons for everything. It didn’t feel like serious depression even if it really was. It seemed like something she’d bring up to win arguments or to get us to do things. She never tried to get help (that I recall), making it seem even more trivial. I guess I’m totally opposed to this. I see depression as a serious thing, so don’t want to bring it up to strangers and coworkers every day or to play the victim all the time. In a way I probably keep it too hidden and end up being more like my dad. Shit.

Most of what I learned through my mom was an opposite reaction to her. She was open about mental illness to a degree that trivialized it; I keep it hidden because it’s a serious subject to me. My mom would also yell and act generally crazy while I try to remain calm and logical. She was/is also terrible with managing money, and as a response I ended up being super talented at managing money; this still leads me and her to arguing like the examples above. I do have her mouth, as you can fucking tell from my writings, but otherwise she taught me who not to be and it probably worked out for the best honestly.

As for my dad? I think I have the same “opposite action” thing going on from him, especially lately now that I’ve realized the ways he is flawed. As stated my dad avoids problems by not acknowledging them. He recently had a pulmonary embolism where his breathing became worse and worse over a few weeks. A few weeks. Just avoid the problem until it goes away, right? He’s also terribly overweight but doesn’t seem to care about it, not enough to change his habits at least. He’s also diabetic but doesn’t give two shits about insulin and checking his blood sugar as well as he should. It’s the same emotionally: closed off and not acknowledging any issues whatsoever. So as a reply to this I’ve been trying to be much more open and receptive of my problems. Realize the problem, make a plan to solve the problem, fix the problem. It’s easy and the hardest part is realizing the problem in the first place.

On a more visceral level I think I’m so terrified, anxious, and frightened because of my upbring. Once again our parents arguing was never an obvious problem at the time, but something seems to have been carried into adulthood from the fights. One scenario really stands out. A few years ago my dad moved in with my mom to help her pay for her house (yes they are divorced and yes they did move back in for financial reasons and no it did not work well at all) mostly because she’s bad with money. They somehow got into a yelling argument just like they did decades ago and something deep inside me appeared. A visceral terror and fear of people arguing. The precipice right before a simple disagreement turned into full-fledged yelling, and possible knife-grabbing and waving and object tossing affair. I felt panic and on-edge and tears creeping around inside my eyelids but adult me was able to choke the feelings back down, but in the moment I felt like I was instantly teleported back into my eight or ten-year-old body feeling as helpless and terrified as a child me would feel. When you have those memories from childhood hidden deep down inside you where you’re not even aware of them, is it that hard to imagine that they might also be the source of anxiety and fear that seem to haunt me daily?

I also have very strong beliefs about my upbringing and my inability to persevere in the face of difficulty. I totally blame them for how I am with this aspect of my personality. I had very good grades as a kid. I was smart. I was the kid the teachers would “want an entire classroom of!” or some bullshit like that. I didn’t have to try hard to succeed at school or anything academic. My entire life in school was one of ease — no effort, no motivation, no difficulty — and I’d be rewarded anyways. They also kept telling me how smart and talented I was and how I could do anything I wanted to do if I just applied myself! Bullshit. This is my biggest regret about my childhood and what I blame my parents for the most: I didn’t learn how to persevere.

I know they were trying to be supportive to their kids (maybe as a reply to their own parents’ lack of support?) but that’s how you scar them and cripple them as adults. Before this blogging ordeal I never tried anything difficult that was outside of my comfort zone and in some ways I think I enjoy blogging so much because of the challenge to persevere in the face of zero obvious progress. I never experienced failing over and over until I succeeded because I never had to do that as a child. By endlessly encouraging me as a child they crippled my ability to weather defeat and learn perseverance. I learned that I didn’t need to take chances. I’m a softy. I can’t take rejection or failure. I can’t hear criticisms. And damn is it a struggle to unlearn things you’ve had beaten into you for literal decades.

This was a really long and rambly post that probably didn’t offer any readers anything in return, but I wanted to vent a bit. How have your parents (or other adults) fucked you up? Did they do it in small and subtle ways like mine did despite having an average childhood? Do you have strange personality quirks that you’re not sure where they came from? Did you have a good childhood and your parents actually didn’t cause you much harm? Are you a well-off and well-rounded adult? Or did you have a childhood from hell where all you learned to do was be beaten and insulted day after day? Where your adulthood is mostly a struggle to live and deal with all the trauma inflicted upon you?

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Or my other blog where I sometimes post stories.

Or Wattpad where I have a Morrowind fanfic ongoing.

Or my Facebook page where I don’t do much of anything at all.

By TheBlackhairedGuy

I'm a guy. And I have black hair. Well not really because it is slowly turning grey. I suppose TheNotquiteBlackhairedGuy doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it? I write the blog as well as dabble in some freelance writing.

23 replies on “My Parents Suck”

Your growing up was hard. I’m sorry. It’s interesting how we react to our parents’ behaviours, what we model, what we actively decided to differently, like how you manifest your depression and the way you are with money. My parents tried hard it it wasn’t always tense at home but like you, mental illness (depression) coloured the way the acted and interacted. I come from a long line of people lashing out when they’re in pain and being passive aggressive. I went the opposite way – quiet and self-attacking. Neither works. We have to find our own ways, our own solutions, like you’re working on.

It’s interesting too, what you commented on in the beginning. We tell people we’re writing, sharing our thoughts. Our circle says things like “great” but then they ignore what we produce, even when it’s relevant to them. It hurts some.


Tell us how ungrateful we were and how we didn’t do anything to help out around the house.

wow. i relate so much to this one statement its scary. i feel im constantly under pressure cos my younger sibling is competition. my mom loves me but sometimes, i dont know, its just that she really makes me feel bad about myself. i dont want to be the same way she is when i am a mother. i dont mean that badly, i love her but i know i can do better. when m friends say my moms my best friend im like wow, how is that possible. but i know my child is gonna reply and say ‘yeah my moms my best friend too’. thats one promise im making to myself.

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It sounds like you have a mom who is good at acting the mom part around others. I think mine was the same way now that I think of it. It’s not all bad though; since you realize her flaws you can try your best to not repeat them. And it sounds like your hell bent on being the best parent ever.


Same here, but now i’m in the point that i won’t give a shit about her, She never understand me and I never understand her anymore. I think i just cornered and can’t go anywhere.


My lesbian moms embarrass me everywhere we go so much that I’m ashamed to go anywhere with them (I am a teen, but I swear that’s not why I’m embarrassed even my friends agree that my moms are way more embarrassing than most parents.), but when we go home they say how ungrateful I am, and that I’m addicted to the screen even though music is just my way of coping. The truth is that I do everything for them, for example, whence we drive somewhere, my mom expects me to bring her phone wallet and keys to the car. I’ve been homeschiiled my whole life, so my cousins are my only friends, and I can’t have a phone and I’m too young to drive so there’s absolutely no chance of me making friends. I know I probably don’t have it super bad now, but I’m worried it will effect me later, for example, I’m really worried that if i actualy have the ability to find a partner, I’ll end up the type of parent like your dad because of my childhood with fake parents. My brother and I are also only allowed to watch TV for about half an hour a week and my moms expect me to watch an feed my brother all day while they’re at work and then they claim I’m lazy when they made me stay home all day. They’ve stressed school so much over my lifetime that I’m over three grades ahead of my age level and my brother starts crying every time my mom gives the Tudors a break and teaches us herself.
How can I refrain from becoming your dad?


My mom also suck, She alaways playing victim and yelling at me, told me that i’m wrong in the first place, but without She knows that i hurt because She always Blame me. Untill I’m in the point where im scare to have a kid.


Uh i woldn’t say that but my dad literaly he beats me up and i feel so weak i fall to the ground and then they hit me even more whenever i argue. See my parents said that i had to walk the dog even though i was planning to go with my friends out. (again they never told me before or nothing like that), instead, those fuckers told me right now, the time i was about to head out to my friends. Again, I told my parents YESTERDAY THAT I WAS GOING TO GO WITH MY FRIENDS, BUT THEY SAID I HAD TO GO AND WALK THE DOG. MY DAD DIDNT HAVE ANYTHING TO DO AND MY MOM ALSO DIDNT HAVE ANYTHING TO DO. I WAS FURIOUS BUT MY PARENTS BEAT ME UP SO IM SO SCARED now of them i want to call cops on them but i know my parents would tell random shit and get away with it


Well I feel the same i hate mine they always make fun of me and always think if i make mistakes its more detrimental than if they did. In short because of this i never told my parents anything and have had lied a lot, I’ve also grown into a mute person my thoughts are the only thing keeping me sane and alive. I’ve also just want to be deaf i hate sounds and people talking; im very much different now than, then.


I hope this reaches you in time, but you matter. You might not realize you matter, or can’t see it in this moment, but you matter to the people around you. This has brought me back from the edge multiple times, that despite how miserable you are others would be devastated to lose you. Each one of us has something to offer the world, something unique that is special to us, people who love us, and you’re included in this. If you need to talk to someone feel free to message me. I think my email is on the contact page so feel free to reach out to someone if you need to do so.


no dont do that trust me please dont do that dont yeah parents fucking suck but please wait until ur 18, and move out, and block them on all social media. Its what some people do and its worth it.

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Well my parents are Hippocrates.

Mom especially. She keeps on posting on social media how the world should be. How people and society should be. And in reality she can not even accept the person I love only because he’s from so called lower cast that us.
Dad was an playboy. He spent money like he was a millionaire on women. He cared little about us. But always wanted to be treated like the head of the house. He wanted us to cook and clean for him. But He could never bear the questions we asked about where the money was or where he was. If we asked for money for school it was another drama.
Basically our entire childhood till date we have no fatherly or motherly relationship. It’s just for the name sakes.

Mom and dad worked aboard our entire childhood. Me and my siblings all had our share of all the mental, physical and psychological issues from all sorts. We all tried on several occasions to try and explain what we felt and still feel about our childhood and what is has done to our adult life currently but there is not even single ounce of acknowledgment from them. But after all this drama still they keep on imposing that they are the parents, they have raised us, they earned the money, we are ungrateful, we will always be under their debt. Debt of what for goodness shake.

time and again when we siblings talk about these things. We cry and we motivate each other. We promise that we will not let our children feel this way. We remind ourselves that what we lived through has taught us & moulded us to be what we are today. Little bit more Independent and mentally strong every single day.

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About the only thing you can change is yourself/your perspective. Bitching on social media about society does little to help anything but wear your mood down. She has to hopefully learn that she needs to be the change she hopes to see in the world and hopefully make an example for those around her. But from what you’ve said, good luck on that one.

Like you, my mom liked to pull the “you’re not grateful” card on us. Like damn, I didn’t ask to be born and if I wasn’t born I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t be aware of that fact that I didn’t exist. It’s such a shitty argument that it makes me want to bash my head into a wall! You can be grateful for them raising you, doing the bare minimum of feeding you and such, but being grateful for existing? Nah, no thanks.


Your daddy soiled you and was the head of the house or he wasn’t? You sound like my ex gf Ren. That spoiled and lazy Asian hoe.


I had a way harder time growing up.. My mom molested, beat, and said mean things, and yelled. My dad said shitty things without drugs a left my family. You sound like a terrible person and a shitty son. Of course your dad did all these things. Your mom was a fucking loon and drove your father to clam up. How dense are you? Claiming your father is worse. I’m glad you had a shittt childhood from reading your blog you do sound like a shitty and ungrateful person. Your parents were right my mom fucked me up and my dad left the house but they never told me they didn’t want me. You were probably a little brat that made everything worse like my little sister. I know your hollow selfish narcissistic type and it’s telicated by your whole entitled narcissistic blog.


I’ve got to be honest, your description of many aspects of your upbringing, your parents, and how you were molded is strikingly similar to my own story. It’s more common than people think. You’re not alone though, if it brings any solace.

Liked by 1 person

Hi black haired guy. And, dang. You wrote, “This was a really long and rambly post that probably didn’t offer any readers anything in return” and I’m telling you that it did. Kinda speechless. Relate a lot. Also bad at persevering & was told I never shoulda been born. Life goes on, but moments like these, when you find a random blog post at 4:30 a.m. make you stop and remember the things you were never allowed to feel. Thanks for writing plainly & honestly about being human.

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