Since this does say unsettling, was as a child. This is going to read pretty bad, may piss off some people, but this is what happened.
I was raised by a very abusive mother. The worst of which was emotional, at least physical abuse heals. It eventually got to the point where she convinced others I was insane. Brought me to the hospital, and being a child, and knowing consequences of going against mother. I said nothing. They admitted me to a psych ward. I was placed on anti-psychotics (Prozac first) at age 12. It made me go insane. They removed diagnosis and replaced them more times than I can count.
This was my life. Anytime mother wasn't getting enough attention, she'd send me away. Everytime I came back, I'd see how her friends would give her tons of sympathy. Meanwhile, I was ignored. She was good at that, tricking people. She had two faces, public and private. The public face was the "I care about my kids and am a good person" - in private it was relentless beatings, emotional torture, and threats of sending me away again if I did not follow her every word.
I tried to tell others the truth, but she was so good at manipulating people. Because I was young, and didn't know how to voice my reasoning in a calm collective manner, people assumed I really was crazy. The pills didn't exactly help in keeping me calm either.
Eventually her whole side of the family began treating me like I was insane, there is nothing worse. There is no winning. The narrative was set up so that no matter what I said or did, I was bad and crazy. Anytime I spoke up, to doctors, or to family, she would say "but do you remember you did this". Often a lie, sometimes she would use simple things to convince them, like me screaming at her (which occurred because she was controlling me, and I was fighting for my life, which was slowly being taken from me.)
It didn't stop once I was in the various mental wards either. Those places are bad. REAL BAD. The worst instance was being locked in a room for 3 days for "being there too much". Lesser instances include being called names by staff, and the inbetween was being placed on more medicine than I could count. Over 20. Each making me psychotic in my rage (more on this at end of post).
She worked at the school, so even my teachers were predjudice against me, with 2 exceptions. It was such a relief, but at the same time, it was 40 minutes of relief, before I get back to my regular scheduled hell hole.
To this day I'm changed. I need my back to a wall. So I can observe everyone. If people touch me, and they do not know me, they have very little time to retreat or I become hostile. I feel like a neglected dog. Gritting it's teeth while wanting love. That said, I can't take love. Even so much as a compliment will make me feel bad. I much prefer when people tell me they hate me, that makes me feel better.
Because of this, there is only one thing I care about above all else. The truth. No matter what, that's what matters. I don't care if you are family, I don't care if you are a stranger, I judge you equally. I place the same value on both. It's not a good value, I see every little crinkle, the small expressions, and while most of the time, I let it go. It hurts me every time. I see all the disgust, all the hate, and I don't like leaving my home because of this.
Some may say it is not true, that I am seeing what is in my head, I assure you, it is true (even though that's worth about as much as an Iraqi Dinar).
I have spent a period of time spanning 5-6 years without leaving my home. This is due to the childhood abuse and the scars it has left. These scars run deep. There are certain people, that if I ever see again, they are not going just die, they will suffer first. Consequences be damned. I want to hurt them as much as they hurt me and then some. There is only one reason I haven't done this to my mother. They would know who did it, as I am very clear with my distaste for her.
I guess this is unsettling in multiple ways..one being the events that happened, and two, maybe people will realize exactly what is being created by abusing people. Killers (whether self, or others).
That's all I really have to say about that, had to switch off my emotions while writing this. Otherwise I would have gone into a frenzy. I think my personalities have split. There are times where I am not me, I still am me, but I'm not. Like I have states. I can not prove this. Just report the feeling. It's like I am suddenly in that room again, and can't breath, all the same emotions plaguing me years later when someone behaves in the way my abusers did.
TL:DR - Don't abuse people. They may kill you one day.