I need advice.
My first memories are of fighting. I was four years old, maybe, and I was walking down the stairs when a plate flew over my head and crashed into a wall behind me. That's one of my earliest memories. Everything from that point isn't great.
So, here's the backstory. My mom and my dad are each other's second relationship. They were both married before hand to different people and each had children with that person. My dad had two adopted children, and my mom had four children with her husband in Asia. My mom left Asia after her husband cheated on her and came to work as a nurse in the US, leaving her four children behind with an angry husband. She left for eight years, and in that time, she met my father and had two children with him. My brother and I. She brought her children over from Asia and they were met with a strange man and two siblings they never knew about. I can only imagine their anger. Well, I can, because they took it out on my brother and I. They destroyed my parents relationship by telling lies about my father, and in turn, destroyed my childhood.
My parents always fought when I was a kid. I would sit at the top of the stairs and cry because I hated the sound of it. Sometimes it got really bad. They would drag my brother and I into the fights all the time, and would say things along the lines of "choose". Three times I was dragged away from my home because my parents decided to split up only to get back together. All they did was fight, call me names, leave me in the company of my half-siblings who resented and hated me. They left me by myself and no one gave a damn about me.
Countless times my mother told me I wasn't her daughter because I defended my dad, countless times I was berated, countless times I was hit when they were looking for an outlet for their anger. They would tell me all kinds of things that a parent should never tell their child - like, your mother doesn't love you, or your father is a criminal. No one fucking cared about my brother and I. GOD. Just thinking about it makes me so angry. HOW DARE THEY! HOW DARE THEY POLLUTE MY CHILDHOOD WITH THAT! I was just a kid. I deserved to be happy and told that I was loved instead of being brought in when it was convenient. And when I was fifteen and told them I wanted to die, they just said it was a phase. Damn them. I lived through hell for the next three years because my parents just didn't care about anything other than themselves.
That was a long time ago, now, but it continued all the way until I graduated from high school. I'm now twenty years old and a college student, and I like to think I move on. I moved three hours away from home just so I wouldn't be near my family. They call sometimes, more often than not to complain about each other. It's usually just me calling them because I really do love my parents. But the thing is they don't fucking love me.
It really sucks because they put me through so much, but won't even acknowledge their wrong doings. All I want to do is shake them, yell at them, make them feel the pain that they made me feel. It's because of them that I will never marry. I could never trust another person with my feelings or with my children. No, never.
Sorry for the vent session. But anyways, I'm going back for Thanksgiving and I just have all this anger in me. I feel as if I go then I'll just explode on my entire family. What should I do?