After everything my parents did, it’s really hard to understand what is real and what’s not.
Because as I said, it’s like the boy who cried wolf.
So doubting their integrity is normal.
My trust in them keeps wavering because they never change.
Also, sometimes I remember the past when my favorite author villainized me and the world hurting me, based on mother’s charades.
I keep applying things I learnt in therapy and just move past it.