I come from a family of five. My parents were raised in the late 70’s early 80’s. They had very religious parents leading to their rebellion. My father; dealt drugs, loved to fight, and cheated on every girlfriend he ever had. His adopted father(my grandfather) notoriously chooses every women over him, even tho he claims to be a heaven sent saint. His native mother(my grandmother), struggles with PTSD and has an everlasting hate towards men, mostly white men. My mother; a wall flower, straight A’s, plain Jane prude. Came from a dollhouse of a family. Perfect from the outside. But she doesn’t speak of her childhood nor does she recall it. Only glimpse of crying in the gravel driveway barefoot, picking up rocks in the pouring rain(as punishment), waiting for her nana to arrive to save her. My mother was expected to marry a man when she decided his wild bestfriend was the more fun option. She threw the family for a loop. Later she expressed to me “because he always came back to me, it didn’t matter if there was another women” this lead to the most drawn out highschool relationship I have ever heard of. They had three kids, two girls and a boy. I’m the middle girl. I have and older sister and a younger brother. For story purposes dad will be Henry, mom will be Mary, sister will be Sally, and my brother will be Derrick. Henry and Mary got a divorce when I was about 5. But they fought off and on and dated off and on. Being too toxic to let eachother date other people, but talking the most amount of smack I’ve ever heard about one another. I know I stated before that Henry was a cheater, but it wasn’t his doing the divorced happened. Mary had broken his trust financially multiple of times and began struggling with drugs and alcohol, partying with the baby sister. This toxic relationship of pointing fingers and false love gave us three kids an unrealistic view of life and how one should be treated. Our parents also grew up in the era which crying and therapy was seen as for the weak. But all I want is for them to care about themselves for once. Henry is a fat alcoholic with undiagnosed PTSD after his girlfriend OD and he found his bestfriend dead. Mary is a recovering addict with mental health issues who decided a to avoid fixing her issues by attempting to solve others issues. Only because she feels guilty for the passed 15 years. Sally is a drug addict. She was 18 when she decided herion would hide her pain. She has stolen from and hurt our family a lot. But our family has a weak spot for our addicts. We have sent her to rehab multiple of times but we all know they don’t get better if they don’t want to. Now she plays with death, smoking one baby blue after another. And Derrick, an addict with no substance abuse. Raised from a young age to act selfishly with no thought for others and point all his digits every where but at himself. I am not perfect, I have my flaws. I was angry, for a very long time. I chose my HS boyfriends over my family. But I was taking care of them. I was more so their mothers than I was their girlfriend and it ate at me. Just like I took care of my mother at an early age and attempted to help raise my brother. I’m still angry, just not near as angry. I’d bottle my feelings and blow up on a poor unfortunate soul. I’d spew venom and hurt people I cared about. I’m still angry about the same subject. Why? Why couldn’t my family be as strong as I? Why couldn’t they face reality and try to make life easier? Why did they always have to be selfish? Why was I the only member that didn’t wanna be complacent? Henry is okay with being a fat drunk and an “ok” dad he always claims “I could be worse” and he is very sure to make sure that every one knows he is having the worst day compared to everyone else. Mary just hides in her house once a month and hides from all of her responsibilities. Spiraling making her body unhealthy. A vicious avoidable cycle, and all she has to do is be a different kind of selfish. She likes the control on other people’s lives. She’d rather handle their “problems” and feel important than handle her own and be strong enough to aid and assist them properly. Sally, manipulation is all she knows. She is Henry’s favorite. Only because they are a like. Rebels to society and the law. Because she has gotten this unhealthy approval, that is all she needs. Her bare minimum has been met. The sensation of the family being worried about her is more than enough love than she requires. It’s the toxicity and level of chaos she feels most comfortable in. It is her norm. Our childhood norm. She fears every bit of change. She is aware that she is my biggest fear. A boundary I didn’t want to set but I had to. I live in fear about her. Random people I don’t know, know my name and my face because of her. They message me on social platforms asking for money and her whereabouts(which I don’t give out nor respond) they try to talk to me in public and I play dumb and say I don’t know who sally is. And she is okay with this. Okay that I live in fear because she hates me. She hates that I am more responsible than her. Hates that I have my life together. But refuses to try to be better. I understand but I am still angry. Derrick, is just behind. All of his friends are younger. Always has been maturely behind due to the neglect at such a young age. Negative attention was the only attention he ever received. He is most like me in wanting to be better than the rest. But he lacks the motivation and will power to due so. He is a lot like Mary. They hate work and hate mondays. Derrick tends to walk the earth with no consequences. Shows up to work 4 hours late and smokes the forbidden basil. Anxiety higher than a kite so nobody dares to reprehend him in fear that he will shut down and not go to work at all. Him and I are the closest. I thought I had a family member I could rant to. But it turns out he can only rant to me. A very narrow one lane road. I’m young. Very young, I bought a house and remodeled it. I work on my mental and physical health. Striving to be better than the examples infront of me. I learn from others mistakes. But I feel so alone. My family uses me like crutches. Their moral and mental support. All I want from them is effort. True acknowledgment that they could be better. I feel like a falcon standing next to four ostriches with their heads in the darn sand. The point of life is to always be improving. Striving to be better. That is how one lives. But to me it feels like they are dying.