The Vortex.

I've had some difficult things to deal with in my lifetime, mostly at the hands of the same person, which are being compounded in a way I just don't know how to navigate.

The problem is I can't say anything without them laying the blame back in my direction; their instinctive response is to compete: "But what about me?". It's a mantra I was hearing long before I realised they were abusing their position, yet despite the fact they experienced similar things when they were younger, they won't link it.

I worked hard to fight the demons left by their treatment ("How can you say that?") and kept secrets that weren't mine to keep ("But I'm your ---"). The first eighteen years of my life were a vortex of toxic stress, confusion and fear ("How can you put this in public? It's embarrassing") but because of they were in a position of authority with a duty of care I thought it was my fault or saw myself as the glue that had to fix what was broken, which left me suicidal more than once, and still, nothing improved.

They defend themselves relentlessly ("You broke my heart") and can only take and not give ("You don't know me at all"). And now they're denying things so fundamentally important I flagged them repeatedly at the time, yet they still went ahead and did them ("I'm putting myself first now"). And if I'd said nothing, they go ahead as they wanted, and if I defend my dad or me, they'd still do it, but see it as a punishment ("I was going to help you, but you destroyed that"). And to top it all, when I reminded them the other day of the abuse I consistently experienced in my childhood when I should have felt safest, the answer they snapped back was, "Prove it". That's the single most horrible thing they could say to me when they know it all happened, but when we spoke the next day, it was already forgotten ("Well, I don't always say the right thing").

They know how delicate my mental health is, or they should do, but they put me at direct risk and then they blame me for it ("Why did you put things in front of your door? I'd never hurt you"). But that's not the deal. And my dad died not knowing anything that happened and that still wasn't enough. And now, I've cancelled Edinburgh, because of their pressure, and it won't touch the sides with them ("No-one can hurt me like you"). I've told them I want to lay the foundations of my own family in my dad's childhood home and they won't protect that ("He wanted us both to be comfortable"). And they've got a house.

I feel like I've been conned of my childhood and my adult life too ("If I abused you, why did you still want to see me?"). And writing this will make it worse. The other day I said I'd fight them and their response, filled with venom, was, "I know you will", so I can't win. But I also can't reason with them, as every time I speak to them they hang up.

I don't know how to get through this. When I spoke at my dad's funeral they wouldn't look at me, and they didn't tell me I did well. And writing this, even obliquely, will still be wrong. Despite the secrets I kept from all except my closest friends and never told the person who could have ended it, nothing was ever enough ("The way Glyn looked at me the other day, I couldn't believe it") and I can't appeal to their decency as they'll only strike back ("Go on, hit me; you know you want to"); every word I've attributed to them, they've said to me, and yet I'm in the wrong. It's like I've fallen through the looking glass into a distorted alternate reality and now I'm on the wrong side, I can't get back. 

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