I Have A Narcissistic Mother

My mom stabbed my father and beat us all. She was an addict who sent me to work on farms to get her money, and spent my fathers wages as well. I grew up in the lowest weight group for my height because I wasn’t fed properly and was worked hard from a young age. At fourteen I grabbed her hand out of the air as she went to strike me, I squeezed and informed her if she ever hit me again, I would f-ing kill her. She never hit me again, and that was a good lesson to learn. I remember-40 in inadequate clothing, covered in cow manure at 14, earning below minimum wage and working up to 16 hours a day, handing her my money or I wouldn’t be allowed in the family. Come home after a full day to split her firewood and cook and do the dishes. If the kitchen wasn’t “cleaner than when I started” I would have hot coffee dumped onto me in bed. I got old and mean enough to steal and sell enough drugs at 15. Robbed people, hurt people. Now I’m an adult with a real job, a loving woman, my mind burns. There’s fire in my mind. My suffering in the cold and hot, the bugs and beatings, from the sadistic mother and a boss that knew my situation and took full advantage, making me do jobs with no purpose but to amuse him with my misery. The thing that burns in my mind is it was all for nothing, it all meant nothing. A child’s soul for Pills and thrills. She would tell me nobody would ever love me. Sometimes I think I’ll go see her on her death bed, lean in and say “you died as you lived, in the lonely hell you create wherever you go. Me and my sibling will never pay for your funeral. Just letting you know that you haven’t fooled anyone, you never fool anyone, in the end it always comes home, the evil you put into the world, die alone b-tch.” I know being bitter only hurts myself and my loved ones, but I was brined, pickled, and bottled in bitterness since I was a child. So give me a minute eh? This might help, I don’t know.