permission to be angry

The power of not being allowed to be angry at one's own mother is insane. And to be held to that double-standard - she was allowed to walk all over ME, to make fun of me, mock me. But SHE, that paragon, that fragile little soap bubble of damaged self-esteem, was to be protected at all costs. Even if it required sacrificing ME on the altar of her - what - neediness? Or my father's inability/unwillingness to give her what she needed?

And not only that, but when my father was a jerk to me or my middle brother started breaking in his 'bully boots' on my poor, battered psyche - not only was there no one to stick up for me, but I was expected to just put up with it.

Jesus fucking CHRIST on a - toothpick.