Maybe some people will read this and think that my mom raised me for nothing, the truth is that my family did business a long time ago, and my parents didn't take much care of me in my life, they only gave me money for everything. And the thing about giving birth to me was something I couldn't decide, especially now that I'm pregnant and about to give birth myself, and when I talked to my mom she expressed the view that she never thought I was born out of love, but only thought that she should have a child when she got married, and told me that since she gave birth to me, then I should support her unconditionally. So instead of being grateful that she gave birth to me, I attempted suicide countless times during my mental immaturity as a child, and if it wasn't for my dad, the world might not have been the same for me. So if anyone says to me "she gave birth to you anyway, that's a favor" I'll think it's ridiculous and purely stand on my own two feet.
For as long as I can remember, the family has never stopped arguing. Every time my dad tries his best to keep the peace in front of me, and when he can't help himself, he tells me to go back to my room and they'll argue again. When my mom notices this pattern, even though I've already gone back to my room, and even though I'm already crying and shaking with fear because of their fights, she'll still take me out of the room so my dad can continue to fight with her in front of me. My dad would usually put up with it and my mom would start saying all sorts of nasty things, even to me, like calling me ungrateful and not looking out for her. Later, when I went to school and was often away from home during the day, and they fought again, my mom didn't have a shield, so she bought a quill and ink and wrote on the walls of the house, the hallway, and the neighborhood that my dad had hit her and so on. In fact, as far as I could observe, every time, it was my mom who made the first move, and my dad just resisted and didn't fight back. At that time, my father still belongs to the system, living in the unit assigned to the room, the neighborhood are colleagues, and my classmates are also a lot of my father's colleagues' children. My mom knew that my dad was afraid of bad publicity, and even more so that I would be bullied at school (yes, it's true that I was taunted and isolated and bullied at school because of their shit) usually chose to fulfill her demands, and my mom always threatened my dad with writing. Then later on, whenever my dad had something that wasn't to her liking, my mom went to my dad's higher unit to find a leader, and finally, my dad had to quit his job, we moved, I changed schools, and my mom actually blamed everything on my dad not being able to do his job, knowing that my dad had already made it to be the biggest leader in their area, and that being a party member at that time, the crap at home could affect one's personal development as well.
My dad was probably suppressed for too long, and when he left the system he finally didn't have to worry about the divorce affecting his job, and filed for divorce with my mom, which is when my mom realized she was unemployed and couldn't make any money, so she insisted on refusing, and used me as an excuse for giving me a whole family. How I wish I had a broken home! Finally, my dad cheated on me with none of the exact opposite type of person as my mom. My mom has no good qualities except that she is pretty (even now, when my mom goes to a square dance, there are old men all over her), and she is as pretty as a star. She can't do housework (my house hasn't been clean since before I had a nanny), she can't take care of the kids (my dad bathed me and fed me and changed my diapers when I was a baby, which was a rare occurrence in those days), she's a snappy, stubborn, stubborn, and nagging person, and she's never been a good wife or mother in my eyes. After my mom found out that my dad was cheating on me, she took me with her every time she went to arrest him. To this day, I can't forget the look on her face when she smiled at my dad and said, "I'm going to show this to your favorite daughter" as I knocked on the door and looked at a sight I couldn't understand at the time. That was the first time I tried to kill myself, I felt I couldn't hold my dad back, I didn't want to see my mom again, I tied a red scarf to the doorknob and dug my head in. Maybe it wasn't meant to be and the red scarf broke off. For a while after that, the developments in the family could probably only be described as tragic.
When I was growing up, I was incredibly glad that I didn't learn anything bad while growing up in such an environment. I have to thank my dad for being in such a family environment where he was still able to pay attention to my studies and psychology, and would talk to me and tell me that not all marriages are like theirs. Luckily, my own marriage is really not like theirs, my husband treats me well and my mother-in-law treats me a hundred times better than my mom. And my dad finally divorced my mom when I was in college, netting me and then later marrying the person he cheated on me with. And my mom's situation? Still trying to get me to ask my dad for money, and when I don't want to, I get all pissy with me, act pathetic, and even call my husband over to yell at him. Although I now have to bear some inexplicable expenses on my mom's side, I'm glad she can't contact my dad and won't ruin my dad's now harmonious and peaceful home, and thankful that my husband didn't say anything when my mom asked us for money from time to time.