Unfortunately no, my dad committed self delete when I was 4 years old. I remember my mom being absolutely fantastic until I was about 9 or 10. Then she started drinking. Mother dearest was always a drug addict but quit when she was pregnant with me. Never started the drugs again, but drank and smoked herself into oblivion. Around the time she started drinking she got a boyfriend who was a white supremacist and started hanging around the worst type of people. She quit giving a shit about having kids and made drinking her life. This didn’t help our already broken family, it started with extreme arguments about things, then turned into abuse.

It started with her throwing away absolutely everything of mine. I was a adolescent boy who loved video games and hated cleaning my room. So when I didn’t clean my room after “she asked several times” she went to my room and hauled off everything I had until that point besides my clothes and bed. I was able to save my Gameboy advance by slipping it in my pocket, but everything else was trashed. The game systems and accessories alone cost over 1000$ dollars. Still salty about it obviously but what really gets me is she didn’t donate or sell it, rather she paid the dump fee to toss it at the dump.

Then I turned 14, my mother had been smoking pot and drinking for years at this point. She seemingly wanted friends, not kids, so she would share her beer with me. Being a teenager who was I to say no? I went to the literal worst high school in my area, 42% graduation rate in my year, and started hanging out with deadbeats and assholes who only wanted to chill when I had something. Then my mom said I should try Marijuana and smoked my first bowl with me. I liked it, and she hated that I enjoyed it so much and smoked all through high school. She would bring me to NA meetings for my “pot addiction” which was embarrassing to say the least.

The racism and bigotry intensified. Mothers boyfriend got a swastika tattooed on his scalp. There was never a night my mom wasn’t drunk. Then when her and the friends were drunk enough, they turned to picking on the kids which supposedly “toughened us up”. I still vividly remember getting headbutt by a drunk grown man, and almost going down from that. Racism is what I was raised on, and it started to seep into who I was as a person.

Then violence started. My sister and I were both teenagers, and both of us had serious problems stemming from our broken home life that were never addressesed. My sister had psychopathic tendencies that were never checked on. She’d fantasize about killing our mother, and frequently egged fights on in the hopes of them turning violent so she can call police and have them take her away. It’s incredible CPS never visited. Frequent fights turned into frequent FIGHTS. Sister and I were beating each other up regularly whenever I didn’t distance myself from home, and my sister and mother had physical fights at least twice a day. Mother tried to bite a big chunk out of sisters leg. Sister tried stabbing my mother, twice. These types of stories were the norm for me until I left at 17. Couldn’t afford the rent and the rent I did pay would be used by mother and she would kick me out of the house either way. So I stayed with friends because I needed something more stable for college.

It’s honestly a miracle I turned out the way I did. I grew into an adult and rejected racism and bigotry. I knew what a miserable existence hate led to having experienced it and I vowed that I would never hate people for the things they can’t control. Honestly the only people I hate are people who hate, and people who exist on this planet to do harm to others. I immersed myself into diverse social situations and learned from people from all walks of life. The color of your skin, your gender, what you identify as, no longer bothers me as a person. I’m very proud of myself for that.

Sure, there’s times when hatred and violence seeps back into my consciousness, but I try to correct that when it happens. Sometimes something racist or bigoted crosses my thoughts and I feel hopeless thinking that under the surface I’m still the same. But I remind myself that I’m not. I’m not chanting “trampling at the zoo” from American history x down the streets at the top of my lungs anymore. I’m not calling people the n word or the f word anymore. I’m a much better person.

I still tried to have contact with my mother, but after she skipped my kids birth, and reneged on letting me borrow her car after I totaled my car, I stopped giving her chances. She still texts me periodically about how she was a wonderful mother who did the best she could for her kids, and that I’m an ungrateful shit for not speaking to her now and not appreciating the things that I had. Because “she had it worse as a kid”.

Now I have my own kids and could never think of being that way with them. In fact I always think “what would mother do?” And then do the exact opposite.

There’s so much more, like breaking and trashing my things again after I got a job and paid for them myself. The police at my house twice a week. Mother having me committed. Police siding with mother every time, and not doing their job. Sister and I had suicidal ideation and tendencies. So much more I could write a book, but this is enough.

If you have good parents, please tell them so. Appreciate them, we don’t all have it as good.

And if you have shitty parents, I’m sorry that you have to go through it too. If it gets bad enough, cut them off. It socks and it hurts to estrange your parents, I still think if I’m “overreacting” by cutting off my mother. And she makes sure to play the pity party on social. But Noone else will do it for you. You make your own life, and no one else is going to protect you from shittiness, especially shitty parents. Cut them off, slowly at first if you like. Come to terms with them being “dead”. It’s not an easy fight, and it can make you feel like your the problem sometimes. But in the end it’s worth it. And for anybody going through this currently and needing someone to talk to, get in my inbox. I’m always down to help people, every day, every way I can. Consider it owed for me being a shitty racist teenager.

And if you read all this, hey thanks for viewing my story!

This image is wholly foreign to me. My spouse’s parents are like this, it makes me feel uncomfortable and I feel bad because I’ve still got a shield up after all these years.

One of them doesn’t listen at all. He’s also dead so I’m willing to overlook his blatant lack of enthusiasm.

My parents always discouraged me from trying things and gave me self-serving advice.

My parents are absolutely fantastic, they will always listen, do anything possible to help me in any way, and only ever think of what’s best for their kids.

They are calm, considerate, reasonable, smart, loving, and a great team.

I will never meet anybody else as fantastic human beings as them.

I can’t imagine having parents that are awful people, that must be such a terrible burden and impediment to healthy growth for a child :-(

My dad’s a complete douche since he found out I was gay after losing my virginity and coming home late. He has issues with his sexuality and takes it out on me to the point he just decided to sabotage every chance I had at success. We can’t speak a second language in the house we couldn’t cook non American food until last year. He projects on me and humiliates me everywhere. He made my mom a shell of herself and he’s so blind he can’t even buy his own underwear. I wish I had a nerd dad or a pussy sad. Not some military abused hippie.

My parents place too much emphasis on what other people think for me to be transparent with them. Everyone but my parents know I’m gay. I seriously think they would shatter if they knew the real me.

This thread is kind of depressing to read. What a privilege it is to have supportive parents.

Makes me realize that I shouldn’t put off having a quality phone call with my parents so much. There will always be more work, but there won’t always be more quality time with them.

My parents are dead.

I have amazing and fairly intelligent parents I can always talk to, but their level of cognitive dissonance on some subjects is absolutely insane so I know what to avoid talking about or responding to.

My folks were great and I miss them a lot.

For almost all of my life I’d have said no. But after over a year of family therapy I think I now have a mother who sometimes listens. She needs to follow it up with an emotional guilt trip, but she does actually sometimes listen first. Baby steps I guess, but it’s more progress than I expected. And my father is… well… still my father. No chance there.

I have two great parents

My best friend has one, with the other one being an violent alcoholic

My SO has a brain damaged (literally) father and a hyper conspirational spiritual mother.

The more I learn about everyone else’s parents the more thankful I get

Mine are self-absorbed narcissists, so no. However what I really wanted to share is this book I read recently that was eye-opening to say the least (someone on Lemmy recommended it in another post):

“Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents,” by Lindsay Gibson.

Good luck out there.

One good one. Supportive, listened to me, encouraged me to be me, put my needs first. I talk to them regularly and fly across the country to visit.

The other never listened, was totally phoning it in, is mow and has always been a terrible human being. I have all but cut them from my life.