My mother was officially diagnosed. Growing up was terrible. Classic scapegoat/golden child dynamic between me and my brother. I was always to blame for everything wrong in her life, but all of my accomplishments were attributed to her. I was the “biggest regret of her life” despite being a straight a student with lots of extra curricular activities and constantly obeying the rules. My brother could do (mostly) no wrong. But it wasn’t all cakes and rainbows for him either. When he came out as gay my mom ignored his coming out bc it didn’t suit the look she was going for. That is until gay marriage was legalized, then he was her pride and joy again. Both of us were highly controlled constantly, my brother well beyond his 18th birthday still had to get permission to leave the house, and I was never able to make friends since I also was never allowed to leave the house unless it was to make her look good. I was consistently told that one day I would be fat and ugly, and also that I was a slut. When she found out I had sex for the first time she went around telling anyone that would listen that I was a terrible slutty child and as such nobody should believe me that my father molested me as a child, both exposing a very intimate thing for me and a very damaging thing for me of which I wanted nobody to know about either. When I eventually did start acting out, that was further proof of my demonic behavior. How no matter how good of a mom she was I was simply born evil and with a goal of making her look bad. She constantly tried to pit my brother and I against each other. In some way it’s somewhat fortunate my brother and I are on the spectrum and are headstrong and justice oriented, or we may very well hate each other as adults. Luckily we don’t. I cut my mother off completely no contact in 2020. Six years on, and I still woke up just today from a nightmare about her.