Vent: Today It Fully Clicked That My Parents Really Dont Know Me

Funnily enough i realized this today when my mom told me she didn't order the pizza with chicken toppings since "i am so picky and never like those"..

Ive been eating pizza with chicken since i a long time, years, and only didn't when i was like 10 years old because of the brand and sensory issues they never acknowledged until a teacher intervened so they'd take me seriously (shes a savior i love her)

Im 18 now.

Its sad now that i come think about it, they only know less than 10 percent of who i truly am as a person and only show them the persona they approve of, a old husk of a personality i made to be safe of their judgement. They always ask me why i dont talk to them and tell them stuff of me like if they magically forgot all of the times they hurted me and made fun of me

(like one time my mom said something really mean about me ordering some mass produced kitty ears online when i was just 10, a child that simply wanted to be one)

Thanks to experiences like that ive been able to completely falsify myself and notice even the tiniest change in their demeanor, constantly fearful that they'd say something hurtful that will ruin the confidence ive been trying to build slowly because of depression, GAD, ptsd, ect

It just really sucks that if they truly knew me they'd definetly hate me, especially since not very long ago, they forcefully searched my phone at 17 and found out very personal stuff of mines, things i never told them or else i know id be endangering myself, one thing they said about it was:

"if i knew my child was gonna be a *slur* like you then I would've rather have no child than a *slur*"

-gee thanks dad

(Also they searched it because my toxic friend group accused me of having animal torture on my phone with no evidence ?!! Yeah they sure believed them, and of course it was all bogus obviously)

So many hurtful words and actions still replay in my head over and over, and im very traumatized thanks to them. I still feel like I deserve it despite it obviously not being okay for them to have treated me like shit and trashed my bedroom. The feeling of my fathers hands around my throat, slapping my face and hitting my body, slamming me against their bed still lingers, and I only wish he would've made more pressure to my throat, because maybe then they would've realized im just as mortal and human as them, that im their child, that no amount of hurtful words and strangulation will ever change how i was born as, that i didn't chose any of this

Im tired of being a person im not just for the sake of approved survival