This is hard. It has been such an awful decision to make. You know when you meet other people and they seem to have a really 'normal' life? They come from a family of Mum, Dad, a sibling and themselves. Their parents live in the same house as they always did and life for them has been, emotionally at least - seemingly simple? You know they have had their heart broken a few times, had arguments with friends and at times been broke but they just don't have the emotional angst that I (you) have. They have never had a reason to have it either.. I come from the worst family EVER. The only thing that could have topped the emotional torture I have been put through ALL my life would to have been sexually abused. At least if that had happened I could scream from the roof tops, had them put in prison, been an example to others. Instead I have had a life of constant put-downs and emotional abuse. A life of shame and an inability to connect. When I was a child, maybe 8 years old my brother came out as gay. My mother was so outraged she hit him with one of those really large whiskey bottles you used to get in pubs until he could barely breathe, then she cut his clothes off of him because they were a gift from his bf. I still hear his screams daily. I think about how I watched from the top of the stairs. I think about how I should have tried to stop her. I think about how much I loved him. I think about how I wish I'd known at the beginning of that evening that it was my last night as a carefree child. Selfish I know. I think about it all the time. Don't get me wrong, emotionally life was crappy before that night. Being the youngest of 4 siblings to parents who should never have ever gotten married let alone have children, life had always been a struggle. They argued constantly. CONSTANTLY. The atmosphere was always volatile. At 17 my mother wrote me a letter informing me 'this is the last time you will ever hear from your mother' - 17!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What had I done wrong? I had left home. Why? I just couldn't stay anymore. I didn't see them again until I was 29 years old. And during those 13 years apart life was actually pretty good! I put myself through university, had my apartment, had my shit together. But in the 12 years they have been back in my life they have tried to control me through emotional blackmail. It has worked. I have spent most of the time suicidal and they have spent all of the time slagging me off. Today, the conversation with my father was about how I have no friends, I can't keep any friends I do get and I am a complete loser. Oh and my children can go and live with them. So I sat and cried for hours. Helpless. Then it came to me. They have to go. It will be hard. Like addiction recovery is hard. To never see my parents again. To never know when they have died. For my children to not have any family at all. But it is time. I need them gone. I need to breathe. Finally time to exhale. I am no longer scared.