It's been a long day, and I am very tired, but I wanted to weigh in on this. I'm looking for a support group or something, actually, but stumbled upon this site courtesy of Google. I've read some of the arguments here, and I seem to be a minority: not only am I not a teenager, but I am 50 years old. My egg and sperm donors (I cannot call them "parents") never believed a word I said, starting when I was extremely young. Most of it centered around my health. I was accused of lying, being a hypochondriac, malingering, being an attention-seeker, then a drug-seeker, then of course a drug addict! My "mother", who became an RN when I was about 10, was just convinced that I was NOT sick or in pain. Ever. And because she was a "nurse", everyone believed her. (And hey, I was a KID! ALWAYS a "kid" compared to her, naturally.) I was accused of horrid manipulations and excesses and incompetence. I was called names. I was always viewed as a "compulsive liar". At the age of 35, after going through all kinds of hellz, I finally found my answer; I was born with the congenital defects known as Arnold-Chiari malformation and syringomyelia -- fairly rare neurological brain and spine diseases. (They explain EVERY symptom I was ever accused of faking.) I had two brain/spinal surgeries for them. My mother NEVER apologized for not believing me, for lying about me, or for verbally abusing me, and neither did anyone else.

My father and I had managed to be fairly close for a while when I was a young adult, but my mother effectively killed that off. She also ruined a close friendship I thought I had with my kid sister. I am now supposed to be "cured", according to my mother, although no claims of "cures" were ever made regarding the surgeries. There IS no cure. There simply isn't. After my first brain surgery, I was sent home with dried blood and tape adhesive still in my hair (sorry for the imagery), and called my mother to ask her to come over to my home and help me wash it out. She refused, stating that it was "too far" (it is about 15 miles), and begging off because she was going to the church to help feed the homeless. The following day, perhaps? No. Again -- too far away. The muk eventually came out of my hair, no thanks to her. I am effectively non-existent to my "parents" -- my mother the RN and ordained Methodist minister, and my father the public school teacher who is a lay minister while studying to be an ordained Methodist minister. They feed the homeless, they preach giving and loving and charity and being good to "the least of these"... Me? I am on disability, living with a friend (or I'd be homeless myself), and barely making ends meet. I have one pair of pants that fit me. One. Maybe five shirts. And my pajamas (which I am usually in anyway) are wearing out and falling apart. Do my parents help me? Not a chance. Instead, my mother has cried "abuse" to my father (she claims I verbally abuse her, which is absurd; when she doesn't know why something happens, she imagines why, and it's usually the worst-case scenario... then she believes it, and then she spreads it like wildfire), and because of that, my father has written me off completely. He never asked me about it. He never talked to me. He never really knew me. Neither did my mother. But of course they are right, and I am the devil. But -- I got on Facebook using a game-name of mine, and read my mother's comments this week. She has posted on a sweepstakes page, stating why she needs to win, and says that she would give me a cut because "my disabled daughter has medical needs that medicare [sic] doesn't cover". Oh REALLY? I was told I was "cut off"! By THEM!

Family therapy? This is way too long already for me to get into this in length, but let me assure you that the subject was brought up repeatedly. I tried. Over and over and over again -- I tried. When it seemed they might meet me halfway... Let's just say that it didn't turn out as one would imagine from such esteemed parental units.

Oh yes, these pillars of the community are so worthy of hero-worship (which my mother craves, and has ever since I can remember). If people knew the truth, would they be looked up to in the same way? I like to think not... But oh yes, my parents ARE hypocrites. Major ones.