Where Narcissism is Normalized.

I genuinely don’t understand why this kind of treatment is so normalized here in our country. Being someone’s child doesn’t automatically mean being their possession. I’m a 21F yet my life still feels like it is surrounded by invisible chains that I never agreed to wear. I cannot go outside freely, I cannot build friendships, whether online or in person, and I cannot even consider having a relationship either. Every normal part of becoming an adult is treated like something forbidden. What makes it even more frustrating is the contradiction. I was pushed into face-to-face classes before because I “needed to socialize,” yet the moment any actual social connection becomes possible, it is shut down immediately. Now I’m in a fully online setup, yet the control and interference never stopped. It is exhausting to constantly be told to grow and socialize while simultaneously being kept in a cage. Control like this does not build responsibility or trust. It just slowly replaces them with fear, hesitation, and the constant feeling that you are not allowed to live your own life.

What makes it harder is the hypocrisy and the emotional manipulation. My mother presents herself as a devoted Christian, yet the way she treats people inside the house is the complete opposite of compassion. She is prideful, arrogant, and constantly plays both sides depending on who she is speaking to. Nothing is ever appreciated, even the smallest forms of help. My father just suffered two strokes, and instead of empathy or patience, all I hear are complaints about how tired she is of him. This is her own husband, someone she vowed to stand beside, yet the attitude is resentment and self-pity. She works, yes, but once she gets home she practically shuts off from everything while still insisting that she is the one carrying the entire burden. At times she even talks about wanting to get sick herself so she can be hospitalized too, simply because she feels tired. Hearing that while everything around me is already collapsing is honestly disturbing. It feels like she wants the attention that comes with suffering more than she actually cares about the people who are already suffering.

There is also this constant pattern where authority suddenly turns into victimhood the moment anything is questioned. If control is challenged or if someone points out the harm being done, the conversation quickly shifts. Suddenly it becomes about how much she sacrifices, how hard her life is, or how ungrateful everyone else is. Instead of accountability, everything circles back to her suffering. It makes real conversations impossible because the moment the issue is raised, it becomes another story about why she deserves sympathy instead. Empathy seems to flow only in one direction in this house. Everyone is expected to understand her exhaustion, her frustration, and her stress, but the moment someone else feels the same, it disappears.

Religion also becomes a strange contradiction in all of this. Faith is supposed to encourage humility, patience, and compassion. But sometimes it feels like it is used more as an identity than a guide. The image of being righteous or devoted matters more than the actual behavior inside the home. It creates this uncomfortable divide where someone can present themselves as moral and upright to the outside world while the people closest to them experience something very different.

And the most isolating part of all this is how quickly people dismiss it too. I have already opened up to family members about what is happening, hoping someone would at least acknowledge that this situation is unhealthy and actually do something about it. Instead, I get the same lines over and over: “others have it worse,” “that’s still your parents,” “you have to obey them,” “you will take care of them in the end anyway.” It is like the moment someone hears the word “parent,” every form of accountability disappears. Suddenly the pain stops mattering because the role itself is treated as sacred. Being an only child makes it even heavier. Every expectation, every responsibility, every emotional burden gets placed on me automatically. There is no one to share it with, no one inside the family who actually stands beside me when I speak up.

Growing up in an environment like this leaves marks that people rarely acknowledge. When independence is constantly restricted, it becomes harder to trust your own decisions. When your voice is repeatedly dismissed, you start questioning whether speaking up is even worth it. Things that should be normal parts of life, building friendships, trusting people, forming relationships, begin to feel strangely distant because those parts of you were never allowed the space to grow.

Sometimes I sit there wondering what about me is allowed to matter. Everyone talks about my responsibilities, my duty, my role in taking care of everyone else. But nobody stops to ask what it feels like to be the one constantly carrying it. Nobody asks what it feels like to grow up in a house where your autonomy never really existed. Nobody asks what it feels like to be treated like a child when it is convenient for control, but like an adult when it comes to responsibility. I am expected to understand everyone’s exhaustion, everyone’s stress, everyone’s pain. Yet when I ask the same question back, when I ask “what about me?” there is only silence.

And that is the quiet resentment that grows from all of this. When responsibility is forced without freedom, duty stops feeling like love. It starts to feel like an obligation you were assigned simply because you happened to be born into it.