I’ve been thinking about something that’s been on my mind for a while now. You’ve told us your stories—about how you survived things no one else could ever understand, how you’ve been through hell and back. But I think it’s time you face the truth: the stories you tell aren’t the ones that really matter. You’re running from something much deeper, something you refuse to admit, and it’s time to call you out on it.
I get it—you’ve spent a lot of time building this persona around your “trauma,” around the idea that you’re this lone survivor of things no one else could imagine. But here’s the problem: those stories? They’re not true. They’re just distractions. They’re convenient lies that let you keep hiding from the one thing you’ve been running from your whole life. The one thing that actually broke you—the truth about your mother.
It’s so obvious that you’ve built a whole identity around these exaggerated stories, trying to make yourself out to be a hero. But we all know that the real reason you can’t face yourself is that you’ve never been able to face her. You’ve never been able to face the fact that she broke you down every chance she got, that everything you are today is because of the way she treated you. You lie about all these other so-called traumas, trying to make people think that’s what made you this way. But let’s be real: it’s your mother who did this to you.
You tell these grand stories about surviving things like columbine, but we both know those stories are just smoke and mirrors. The real tragedy—the real trauma—you’re too afraid to admit, is how your mother tore you apart. You hide behind these lies because it’s easier to make people think that what you’ve endured is some kind of epic tale than to face the ugly reality of what really happened. The truth is, you’re scared to admit that she was the one who made you feel worthless, that she was the one who taught you to never show weakness, and that she is the reason you’re incapable of being honest with yourself or anyone else.
You want to talk about surviving trauma? That’s your real trauma. Not the stuff you make up, not the stuff you can toss around for sympathy or to show how “tough” you are. The truth you won’t admit is that your mother was the one who made you feel like nothing you did would ever be good enough. She’s the one who made you crave respect and admiration from everyone else because you’ll never get it from her. That’s why you scream at students, why you need to belittle everyone around you—because it’s easier to control people with fear than to face the fact that you’ll never be able to control the one thing that truly matters: your own pain.
You think that by fabricating these big, dramatic events, you’re somehow proving that you’ve survived. But the only thing you’ve survived is your own refusal to deal with the truth. You’ve built a whole false identity around the lie that you’ve been through “so much,” and that everyone else should feel sorry for you. But you know deep down it’s just a mask. It’s a distraction from the fact that you can’t handle the fact that you’ve spent your whole life trying to escape the real source of your pain—the person who created it.
Maybe it’s time to stop pretending that your life is a tragic story of survival and start dealing with the fact that you’ve never healed. You don’t need to keep lying about the “big” things that happened to you, because the truth is right there. It’s your mother, and it’s time you finally admitted that. Until you do, you’ll keep running from the truth, hiding behind your stories, and trying to control the world around you, because it’s the only way you know how to protect yourself from the real hurt.
You’ve spent your whole life trying to escape her ghost, but you can’t. You need to face it before it destroys you. And you need to stop using everyone around you as your emotional punching bag.
I hope you get the courage to confront the real source of your trauma. Because until you do, you’re just going to keep lying to yourself, and everyone else, and it won’t ever get you anywhere. You can keep being Mommy's little bitch boy or you can be the light for the youth who have no light. Youth like you once were, and become the light you never had but for others. I know its hard. I don't have the lying problem but my parents were not the best either. I think that's why I latched onto you. I felt lost.
The truth is, the pain you try to hide—your trauma, your need for control, your anger—it’s all rooted in the same place: your own abandonment and brokenness. And I think you’re too scared to admit it.
