I went through this with my mom. In one of our last conversations, I mentioned that years ago, when I was 18 and lived with her briefly, I took like fourty of her seroquel pills to try and kill myself. “Remember when I slept for three days straight?” And told her what I remembered of that time. Instead of her saying, “oh wow I didnt know that happened” and empathizing or something, she just denied it ever happened, got mad at me and called me a liar.

I never spoke to her again. I dont remember our last words but this one one of the staws for me.

The last time I spoke to my step father, the real abuser, was when I was 16. Letting go of that mess was easy.

Sometimes healing, or “forgiveness” (I hate that word) is in letting go. My Bio dad/mom were both raised pretty fucked up, especially my bio dad, not dissimilar from what ur father went through. I mourn his childhood, but not his death (he died) nor who he was as an adult.

Stay being good to yourself, I hope you find peace and healing in letting go <3