Removing my Grandma from my life

So many moons ago I said I might explain why I have decided to remove my grandma from my life. I mean I love her, she does a lot of things for me, so why can’t I have her in my life?

Because she can’t be who I need her to be. And while she does good things for me, and I value them, it’s not enough to compensate for what she doesn’t do. Especially when she expects me to maintain an active relationship with my mother. I regret that the decision is necessary, but I was only the person who uncovered the line (I didn’t consciously draw it, only found it when it’d been tripped). I’m not the one who crossed it. And I’m sorry, the guilt tripping, gas lighting, neglect, and disregard in most areas of my life just add up to total more then the good.

When I move out, all that will be left is the bad stuff. The good will be gone. So the good:

she does everything a parent does for free (hey, I try to buy a washer, she refuses.) that’s a fair bit, and I acknowledge that I don’t help out enough. (for those who wonder what I’m including: dishes, laundry, making food, cleaning up after both of us (90% is her mess), taking the garbage out (she’s up at 3am on garbage day))

She drives me around.

She listens to me vent

The bad things:

When she listens to me vent she puts me down by saying “you need to get over it” or “you need to stop caring about what people say”

She claimed she would teach me to drive, but never followed through.

She wants me to maintain a relationship with my mother…

…and ignores (and thus implicitly condones) my mother’s bad behaviour.

…and expects me to just not let my mother’s abusive behaviour affect me.

She knew I was depressed and had General/social anxiety. and ignored it. Claiming that I needed to realize something was wrong when I was a fucking child under 12.

She has had 3 years to learn that I cannot hear her when I’m in my room, and still gets pissed when I don’t. She’s had 5.5 years to learn I tune out when I read (especially since the first 2.5 years I lived in the living room, where she was when not sleeping or working). And I mention it whenever I put on my headphones, and she still gets pissed when I don’t hear her.

She refuses to acknowledge that she favoured my brother in many things. main thing demanding I play games with him, when I refused to. (she claims I would demand everyone else do so, but never reciprocate. I disagree. And even still, it doesn’t make it right.)

She feels she can control my actions (tells me I cannot go to a fair alone at 23, or a bar (when I barely drink. If I were a heavy drinker I’d understand it. but my purpose was dancing not drinking))

She tells me my valid emotions aren’t valid.

She won’t mention something off until after someone else does, or it’s been dealt with (or is past being dealt with)

she can sit and watch TV with me puking near her without even asking if I need anything (paper towel, glass of water)

She doesn’t understand my anxiety and depression, but has enabled my mother’s for at least 30 years.

She hates my books but would accept the same behaviour if it were a video game or my computer  If I was in the front room playing it.

If I like something, and she doesn’t I don’t feel like I can do/wear it (e.g. wearing face paint or my corsets)

If I disagree with her she tries to guilt me by saying she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and is stupid. (The tone of voice and way she says it, and the way she uses the phrase about work, make me 100% sure about this)

She expects me to stuff as much stuff as I can in my tiny tiny room (like 7x7ft) with a tiny closet, and do everything like she does. Then she doesn’t understand when my room doesn’t stay clean.

Thinks that just because she only has a tiny bit of clothing she wears, I don’t need to have as much as I do (like she could fit her wardrobe, undies and socks included in one suitcase).

She wants me to spend more time with her, but then bitches when I fidget (I am a big fidgetter. Especially when I get excited, I have to move a lot. And reading frequently triggers this) . I’ve always done this.

The me she wants me to be, for what I’ve seen, has little in common with the me I am, and where I want to go.


Lost on Logic and Reaffirmation

English: Emotions Q-sort

English: Emotions Q-sort (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Why do I complain so much.? Why can’t I let go of the past? Why do some things bug me until I discuss them with multiple people? Why do I double guess most of the stuff I do?  I don’t really know. At least not completely, and any answer could be unreliable. But I am beginning to think that it’s at least partially caused by my inability to trust my reactions to events. And if that doesn’t make sense, I’ll try to explain. Through out my childhood, and even now, I’ve been told certain reactions were unacceptable. And some of these reactions were reasonable , Combine this with my anxiety, and later depression, and you have someone who was taught, maybe not on purpose, that they cannot trust their gut instincts, their logic.

Then add in a controlling parent, who makes you ask to do anything. Or at least, I did, if only to try and prevent getting yelled at, and this might have been my anxiety making my mother’s reactions worse,. But that was the reality, If I was worried that she would forget something and I reminded her (and my grandma is the same), she would get pissed. Yet then she would get pissed and say it was my own fault if she forgot. Or I would say I wanted to do something (FREE) and she would claim that we would do it, and purposefully arrange it so we couldn’t claiming “she didn’t think I actually wanted to”.

And even if it were not words, I’m constantly fidgeting, So much so it irritates my family and people around me. I can try to control the larger ‘episodes’, but to do so is to suppress the emotions I feel  (not that I always know the exact emotion or thought). And after being depressed, and being unable to really feel my emotions (which still aren’t 100% there, I think) I can’t do that constantly. It actually makes me feel sad. But as a child I was constantly corrected, told to stop fidgeting by my mother, even when other children would have been able to fidget (like during a musical performance at school).

So now I immediately question any action I do, or reaction I have. I question my right to do things. I ‘need’ constant reaffirmation (and I hate it that I do) that the past was as bad as I think it was. And at the same time, my reliving the past, it’s to show that my mother isn’t a good person, and that’s why I can’t have her in my life (which is another choice that I need reaffirmation on). Because I either don’t trust my internal compass, or in some cases, I’m not getting a reading from it at all.

Letter To Myself

You know about those letter you are supposed to write yourself, to your past self, to change something or what ever. This is one of those. Well actually it’s one post with multiple letters

Dear Kathlynn

congratulations you have finished Gr.5. you know that thing you are denying? tell some one. Please. I know you don’t want to believe it’s wrong. You don’t want to believe your daddy would do it. But he is. Tell an important person. But not your mommy, she might not believe you. Tell your teacher, or grandma T. You telling is a good thing. And if you don’t tell, that’s okay too. But I want you to know that it is wrong, it is happening, and there are people around who would help you. And those emotions you are feeling tell some one about them. Not your mommy she will deny them. Not your family either. Tell a teacher. They are not normal. Though your fear of spiders and crossing roads are understandable.

Also you are a wonderful awesome person. I wish I was still like you. Also, please study, please? pretty please? you will buy yourself books and chocolate if you do!

Your older, wiser self.


Dear Kathlynn

Hurray, you just started gr.9. Please tell someone. You are depressed. You do need the treatment you want. The attention you don’t think you have the right to demand. Your mother is the bitch you are starting to think of her as. And, while it’s hard, try to push yourself past your learned fear of social services and get out of that house. you will thank me for it. They can place you with your family or a nice family else where (remember N). It will do you good. Your mother is depressed as well. That doesn’t excuse her behaviour, but you are right, there is something wrong with her. Please get help. Your mom will just deny it, but maybe if you tell someone else you will get the help you need. Also, Study you idiot. There is still time to learn how. You will thank yourself a lot sooner then you think.

Your, older wiser self

Dear Kathlynn

Congratulations you just finished gr.11. Do not take that job at Huskey. Don’t, it’s not worth it, in any way. You will regret it. Go to grandma’s with some resumes and try to get a job there. Maybe you’ll even get to stay there. Also don’t bother taking that test in biology next year, you are going to fail it, ’cause you never studied. And don’t put off applying for schools. Go for your dreams as soon as you can, because if you don’t you won’t have the courage to do them in the future.

Also, your feelings, they aren’t normal, please get help. Please, you need it.

your sadder self

Dear Kathlynn

Thank you, thank you so much for getting help. I know why we didn’t go sooner. But it will get better. The glow will dim, but the numbness? it is a sign of depression. I know right, why didn’t they tell us that in school? But it will go away, for at least 3 years. But now, now you need to focus on getting better. And getting your license so you can boogie out of grandma’s. It’s not going to be good for much longer. Go before you are trapped there. Also, Ter is awesome, Wile Tra and LD suck. Do not stay in the sorority. It’s not worth it. Really it’s going to get bad, and it’s not worth it. This year will be awesome, but the next one will suck. Remember the church group, yeah it will be just like that. except with judgemental bitches, who cannot accept you for who you are.


Remembering Myself

So, I don’t know if anyone else feels this way. I have at least mostly gotten past my depression. I still struggle with my anxiety. Which is my own fault as I’m not really doing anything to get over it. But otherwise I’m feeling the best I have since I was 10. Yup 14 years of struggling through depression. almost 24 years of suffering with anxiety. So most of my memories are tainted by the emotions triggered by (or triggering) my depression and anxiety. Sometimes, remembering the past is fine. I hate how much I dwell on it, but There isn’t really much I can do, besides avoid talking about it. Which I do (when I can control that impulse). Other times, usually when I’m more reflective, I think back and I can still feel the depression feelings. And it scares me, really scares me. To know I felt that hopeless, that confused. And I hate it. It triggers my anxiety; I’m terrified that my depression will come back, and that this time I won’t get help. That I will be too hurt, too broken, too depressed to get help. Or if I do they won’t help me, or it won’t work. Generally I can ignore the feeling that it’s right out there on the edge of my conscience waiting to pounce. Waiting for me to get weak again. But when I think of the past I can’t ignore it, because the feelings, they don’t feel old then, they feel fresh, my mind brings them back, and it makes me want to cry. It’s scary, to me it really is.

English: An anxious person

English: An anxious person (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

^this is totally how I’m feeling right now^

What is Forgiveness

I know, this post is very similar to one I made in the past, but this issue is bothering me. I’m getting so much pressure from people to forgive. I’m reading online seeing people say things like this (partial quote):

Forgiveness doesn’t need to have anything to do with the other person really at all. Its all about you. F**k the other person.

Forgiveness is about accepting what happened to you and compassion for yourself. That’s the hardest part sometimes. There’s almost an anger with yourself for allowing it or not being able to prevent it. In fact you’re so angry over the situation that you don’t want to accept anything about it. You may want to reject that whole time in your life. Or the place that it happened. Or people that look like/remind you of whoever it is that hurt you.

No. If forgiveness was about forgiving yourself, we would not phrase it as “you need to forgive [abuser]”. There would be no one telling you to forgive [abuser] and move past it, without any remorse etc. from your abuser(s). They would not be telling you to keep your abuser in your life. You would not be expected to treat that person (or those people) with the respect they DO NOT deserve.

If forgiveness was for the victim, not the abuser/bully/perp. then the statement would sound completely different. It would be “you need to forgive yourself”, or “you need to deal with this, and decide how you want to deal with your [abuser]”

Sadly what most people seem happy to ignore is the fact that, usually, this abuse isn’t something that has or will stop. So they say “you need to let go of the past” and can’t seem to understand that we want to. But how do you get passed something, when you can’t heal because the scars aren’t given enough time to heal before they are ripped open again? I wish I knew, because you know what. I’m tired, so bloody tired of living my past over and over again. I want to forgive, to reconcile, to move past this all. But, to borrow some imagery from a book I read (thank  you Anne Bishop) it’s like this giant infected wound in my chest, and it keeps getting bigger the more I’m hurt. It hasn’t popped yet. But I wish I knew how to make it, how to clean it out and let it heal. And I think most of use want to do so.

But when we keep getting pushed to do something that just keeps us open to more abuse. When we are pushed to forgive our abusers, to forgive everything that happens to us, how do we learn to do more then just push it all inside, where it forms those big balls of infected pain. How can we heal, when we are told that the only person who is responsible for the abuse is ourselves, since we are told that we cannot hold our abuser accountable for their actions, rather we must explain them away, by thinking “it’s the way they were raised”, “they are mentally ill”, “they only do it because they are/were abused”  etc. When we are told that we must keep allowing them to abuse us, else we are being disrespectful, rude, dishonourable, bad, etc. We are told we must be the compassionate ones, we must be the better person.

No matter who says it. The common usage of the word is to pardon the behaviour, with no consequences, thus condoning the behaviour. We need a better word for what we expect victims to do, since forgiveness will never change enough to fit well enough. No matter what people (even medical professionals) try to tell us that it doesn’t mean to condone the abuse.


Driving Laws

Okay, first thing I do not have my drivers license.  But having grown up with a controlling and emotionally abusive mother I could not get one when everyone else did. Now I have to find someone to teach me how to drive. After I renew my “L” (Learners) license. I like the basic structure of the BC driving laws, in fact I think that a less regulated system is just asking for trouble. Because it doesn’t make sure the ‘kids’ can drive before allowing them to do so.

Currently in British Columbia Canada a person needs to pass a written test to receive their ‘L’. If they pass they are given a temporary license, a new driving manual to read and a magnetic red square with an L in the middle to affix to their vehicle. (it must be on when ever some one with an L class license is driving). They are not allowed to drive by themselves and can only have one extra passenger and the responsible adult. The responsible adult with must be over 25 and have their full drivers license. The responsible adult must be in a state capable of driving and sitting in the passenger seat (no drugs alcohol etc in his/her system). They have two years before the license expires and can take the road test to qualify for the “N” (New) license. There are also restrictions on when they can drive and they cannot have alcohol in their blood. And if you are under 19 you must have your parent/guardian sign that you have their permission to take the test.

With the N a person can drive on their own with one none family member passenger. This restriction does not apply to immediate family members. They can have more passengers if there is a responsible adult with them (again in the pass anger seat). After two years you can take the road test and qualify for your full class 5 drivers license.

Here is my problem with the law. It makes it almost impossible for people to learn how to drive without breaking the law.  Okay maybe those with parents who are willing to teach them won’t have this problem. But I don’t know one person over 25 who is willing to teach me how to drive. I could take driving lessons but those won’t help much if I cannot practice, and they are bloody expensive. At least $500 for the full course. So one pay check.  My holiday pay check, a years worth of savings, etc. It’s a lot of money. I feel like if the government wants people to learn to drive properly and have these laws they should have government sponsored driving schools with a sliding pay scale. But it’s not something I ever expect to happen. My brain laughs at me for thinking it.

Then there’s the parent permission obstacle. I’m sorry but I’m not a fan of parental permission. I understand the need for it. But I don’t like it. I know too many kids/young adults (the label depends on the individual) who do not live with their parents. For acquiring your L license I would remove the parental permission requirement and just require it for the N. Simply because you need to have a person over 25 with you to drive. Most people under 25 don’t know too many people over 25 who would be able/willing to teach them. Especially if their parent’s weren’t. But this allows them the chance if their parents are control freaks or if their parents aren’t around. And it speeds up the literal time they can achieve their full license by three years (assuming they don’t get their L until they are 19). See the average person can get their full license as early as 19, if the individual doesn’t get parental permission they cannot get it until they are at least 22.  This is very harmful for the person because the lack of a drivers license severely limits one’s ability to get a job. I know I’ve been stuck at the same joint for almost 4 years because I don’t have wheels and live just outside of town (20 min walk to the nearest bus stop y’all).

I do not think it is a good idea to hand out full licenses after a written test or a three month road permit that I’ve heard is all some states require. I do think that driving is both a right (only because of how vital it is to getting a job) and a privilege. You should have to prove that you can drive. But getting the knowledge should be easier then it is in the current system in BC (for people like me). And once you have your license I think every 10 years you should have to retake the driving test. And when ever you renew your drivers license they should check your vision and you should have to retake the written test. Why? because most people cannot drive safely and almost every single time I get out I almost get hit by a negligent drive. Whether I’m on my bike or walking



I am vulnerable. I admit it, I try to fix it but it’s the truth. I do not like to argue. I’ve done so too much in the past. So I walk away from arguments, I refuse to participate. But that makes people get more aggressive or think that you admit that you are wrong. It makes them feel more powerful. I do not have a way with words (out side of writing them down), my brain has to focus too much on containing my emotions, so I don’t scream, cry or yell out the wrong shit. It also differs because I cannot argue every point because I cannot remember them. People do not prove their points yet expect me to prove mine. I find out their lies but cannot confront them without causing drama I’m supposed to avoid. This all makes me vulnerable. Other people cause the problems but I am supposed to fix them, let it go, or compromise (with me the looser). I accept responsibility, we can argue whether or not I take enough, too much, or not. But I do so in way many people I know don’t. I do not shirk my financial obligations, or things I feel obligated to do. Even if I don’t want to. While I wouldn’t marry some one out of obligation, it is a spot I’m vulnerable at. Because I’ve known too many people who aren’t responsible, and that shaped me to be honorable. But honor leads to vulnerability you cannot be completely honorable without getting taken advantage of. People can also hid who they are, So I sometimes trust the wrong people until it’s too late and I am taken advantage of (say house sitting when I don’t want to, or moving in with another person). I do not lie without reason. I may avoid mentioning something (like admitting to using my mp3 player when caught but not my cellphone at work), but that happens as rarely as a lie. It leaves me vulnerable because people still believe I lie, or for example accuse me of stealing and it upsets me. I do not lie, there is no proof of any wrong doing, yet people feel the to accuse me of doing so.


My Views on Suicide

I know what I’m about to say is very controversial. Many will object, and think I’m ‘pro-suicide’. I am not. In 95% of all suicides, or suicide attempts, things can get better, people can overcome the problems in their lives. But I still cannot condone people calling suicide selfish. I just cannot do so. My first reaction is to call those people selfish. It is not completely accurate, as in some cases those people are in great emotional turmoil themselves. But for those who aren’t immediately effected, who don’t know the victim (and yes, I think of the suicidal as victims) well, it’s very selfish type thinking. The biggest reason people list for suicide being selfish is that the act hurts other people. Well the people who are suicidal are hurting just as much when the mental illness wins and kills them. When you call the victim selfish you are placing everyone above the victim, which just justifies many of the common beliefs held by the mentally ill. “Everyone else is better them me”, “I’m worthless”/”I’m worth less than everyone else”/”everyone else is more important than me”, “I need to place everyone first, myself last”. Yes when you call some one selfish you are making it harder for the survives to get help, you are validating their inner demons, their vultures, their insidious voices, the negative voices that make them even sicker, maker it easier to let mental illness win.

Then there is that 5%, which is a made up number btw, who have lived years with their issues, have more bad days then good (if they have any good days), live with flashbacks of the abuse they endured daily for who knows how long. Who have gone through the system multiple times, but have not improved, have tried their hardest, but still cannot get better. I cannot imagine the agony they’ve gone through. I really cannot, I’ve never been that far. I’ve been close, and I’d understand anyone giving up if they dealt with what I did (for the worst 6 months) daily. I could barely get out of bed, or go to work, though no one released it (after +10 years, I guess I was good at hiding it Edit: no, actually my family is just that shit ass sucky that they didn’t think they had a responsibility to get me help). I was living in mental agony. To reiterate, if some one has no hope for recovery, suffers daily agony, and has received years of help, then if they chose to end that in the only guaranteed  way, I will not begrudge them. Because they have tried, and no one deserves to live through that agony.

But neither do I begrudge the loved ones, family and friends the pain they feel, the anger they feel, the betrayal. Though, if they knew about it, and did nothing, it’s hard for me to, I will never invalidate another’s pain. They having lost some one to mental illness. It is not a group of illnesses that one can see the effects of, and people over look the signs (or people are really good at hiding them), so it is hard to know when things are “terminal” for them. So the death, or attempt, is often sudden.

once again I’m not “pro-suicide”, but I am pro-understanding. Pro-help. And I’ve been there, though without the suicidal impulses.

What Mental Illness is to Me

This is something that’s really hard to describe, what mental illness is, as it varies for every sufferer, every illness, every diagnosis. As some know from my last post, I suffer from depression and high anxiety. Lucky I’m slowly “recovering”. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover, but I’m doing some healing. And I doubt my path will be smooth, without some dips back into the hell-hole of a major depression episode.

for my personal experience (not my view of other people’s experiences that will be the next post), well I know what I felt, what I didn’t. I’m going to try and figure out where to start, when it took over my life, or when it reached the point of no return -get help or slowly die. For the background information, please see my last post, as it has a brief over view of the challenges I faced growing up (it would detract from the point of this entry). a pinnacle point for me was the one time I felt really suicidal, I was in so much pain, I was scared, and I wanted it all to stop. but as I set everything up, and wrote my note it all started to leak away. And I found something in me that would stop me from ever considering suicide, or feeling suicidal again. I was in gr.6 at the time. It was some time before my father was arrested, same year as 9.11 . I was not better, in spite of no longer feeling suicidal, actually, my pain would only get worse. I started writing poetry, a lot of poetry. I’m still writing  it. when I have my latest piece finished I’ll YouTube it (the first piece I feel good enough about to do so). all the poetry that was written for myself, rather than school, talked about clouds, dark clouds, loneliness, and sadness. when I reread it I can feel the pain I felt at the time. but something was happening with my emotions at this time, as people stopped listening, and the bullying at school and emotional abuse at home increased, I started to be unable to write, to access my emotions, to feel them. I was becoming numb, in a bad way. from gr.9 until spring 2010 I was numb, so numb I didn’t realize it. I hurt, but only for a breif time, I was still depressed and in pain, but I couldn’t feel it anymore. every few months though I would reach the boiling point, and cry. great racking torrents that I would have to hide from my mother (because she wouldn’t understand, since she was one of the causes). The summer of 2007 was the summer of mistakes for me. I was offered a job, in my home town, where my mother worked (the only job she ever held while I lived with her). I should not have taken it. because what I didn’t know was that those summers saved me. they literally saved my life. by the end of gr.12 I was a mess, because I could not get away from my mother. I also was having health problems, as my asthma had decided to flair, along with needing new glasses, and having sore feet (which I now have custom inserts for). that year, my mother decided not to go back on welfare when she lost her job. she bought pet food over human food, and by the time I graduated I was lucky to get one meal a day.

it got a bit better the next year, because she wasn’t around as much. but my anxiety didn’t take notice of that. my depression didn’t thaw. why, because until the fall of 2010 I was sleeping on the couch at home, with no room for myself or my stuff (and my grandma has this strange idea that only her stuff belongs in sight). so I was trying to go to school, and sleep. when my brother would try to have friends over, or game. it got worse the next year, in 2009 I got a job working at the same store my grandma worked at. by the end of the year I could barely function. My depression and anxiety was ruining my life. my mother’s visit tipped everything over the edge. she was only there for a full day, and I broke down, cried really hard, and packed everything up so I wouldn’t bother them anymore. (and had my grandmother stepped up, rather than tell me not to tell my mother to shut up, this might not have happened. as my mother was trying to say she should be able to irritate me, via tickling me (which I can’t stand), or high-pitched sounds, because she didn’t see me very often). I really should have mentioned this sooner, but for most of my life this has played though my head “YOU are Worthless, you are not worthy, you are nothing”; “you are only a drain on the family, you can do nothing right”;” you weren’t even planned, you were a mistake”;it’s your own fault you don’t have any friends”

at this time I was also coming to terms with my sexuality, and mental health issues. as in I’d finally accepted that I was an asexual aromantic, and that I needed to get help. I just didn’t know how to get help, I have no driving license, and didn’t really know how to get anywhere. but in February I finally wrote down the number,  and about two weeks late went in for intake evaluation, and probably a month after that had my first counseling session. during those last few months, before I got help I was at my numbest, I can’t really think of how to describe it. for me it’s like my head it a semi-circle, and the only emotions I could feel were at the edges, at the top, the rest was a void, numb icy void. sadness, happiness couldn’t be felt.  And while I wasn’t suicidal, I also didn’t think I should be alive. that I deserved to live. I also didn’t know I had anxiety until my first session with my first councilor. (which is why it’s bare of anxiety symptoms). after that, know that people believed me, knowing I was going to get help, I immediately started getting better, though it’s taken two years for me to feel that I’ve made any sort of progress.

Who I am, Why I am Mentally Ill

This topic is hard for me to talk about. Yet it comes up for me a lot.

I suffer from chronic depression and high anxiety. Yet I’m only 22, I’ve been suffering for over a decade. I know most people won’t believe me, when I say I thought about killing myself when I was eleven, or that from the time I was 8 I dreamed of running away. Not all the blame is due to my child hood, which I’ll go into at length. Some of it is genetic. At least two other people in my maternal family have been diagnosed with mental illnesses.

most might think I’m some spoiled middle-class kid, who doesn’t know how good she has it. I’ve been accused of that before. I’m not, My mother is a welfare bum, who refuses to get treatment for her own mental illnesses. She was a welfare bum when she decided to get pregnant with my older brother, and when she accidentally got knocked up with me. When I didn’t live with her, I lived with my father, and the kids he was raising (the eldest, my half sister, the other two my step sister and step brother), so I was living with 6 other people, on a mill-worker’s wage. When I was about 8 or 9 my stepmother OD’d, and that was basically the last I saw of my step siblings, who went to live with an uncle of theirs.

when I was seven my mother was diagnosed with cancer, for ever changing her. before that she cared a bit. now she hated me. Or at least she loved me less than she had before, and loved my brother and everything else more. In the following years as we all know, I began to think and loose the innocence of my youth. I began to puzzle things out, to realize the world isn’t perfect. During this time my mother was starting her emotional abuse, if she hadn’t always been abusive. She and all my family set the stage for my mental illness that I deal with today, because I was such a serious person. I was told not to cry, that it’s bad to cry. I cannot let myself cry any more. I was told that the only reason my mom kept me was for the money. I was made to fear welfare, as “I would never see my family again” if they took me away.

then when I was 10 another abuse started, though both my depression and anxiety had already developed. I was now getting sexually abused by my father, while I slept. I won’t go into details, as I’m not ready to delve into that yet, but it made things worse. I didn’t even really know what was happening, because I was so young, I wanted to dismiss it all as a dream (and did so for years). When I was 11 we moved in with him. when I was 12 he was arrested for abusing my stepsister years before. we were even worse off then we had been before we moved in with my father (we could no longer live with him). we had moved from where my mother’s family lived, to a small village. We now lived out of town, with no way to go anywhere (or at least, my brother and I couldn’t. My father could still drive my mom around), as my mother had never bothered to get her license. so from gr.7-10 I lived in two places, school and home. no escape, except to visit family on holidays, if possible. nor was school all that good, though I much prefered it to the mother who told me to stop bitching about the bullying I was experiencing. In gr.10 we moved even further away from town, thankfully my mother could now drive me to important things.

sad thing is. she didn’t consider me important, and had to be ordered by welfare to take me to the dentist, refused to take me to the doctors for asthma meds, or to the optometrist for new (FREE) glasses. She also preferred to feed the animals before feeding me, and now that my brother was gone, made my life a living hell (thank god my father had given me his computer before he went to jail, else I would not be here today.)

so two years after moving out, and in with my grandma and brother, a year and a half of sleeping on the couch, combined with a visit from my mother dearest saw me have a mental break down, though no one knew about it. I almost lost my job, ’cause I couldn’t function well enough to do my job properly, and I ended up getting help through my government’s free mental health care.

EDIT: If you read my newest post (04/07/2013, If You Think Something Is Wrong Tell Them) you will find out that my grandma knew I was suffering and did nothing positive to help me (emotionally)