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My mental health journey.
I've had a rough childhood. I was SA'd for many years since a very young age, physically abused by my father, and verbally abused by my mother and grandmother- whom were my only support at the time. By my teen years, I started getting into all kinds of drugs which set me back in life and mentally.
Luckily, by the time I was about six, my parents got divorced. When I was about fifteen, I was finally smart enough to put an end to the family friend SA'ing me. I did so by telling my grandmother about him, but I did not admit to how long it has been happening. I figured that if I had told her it was a one time occurrence (and not something that has been happening for nearly a decade) that I could preserve her physical and mental health. I felt that they would not understand I was being groomed and would put a lot of the blame on me anyways.
I felt terrible about getting SA'd I started to understood my situation in sixth grade. I could not stop thinking about what happened. I never reached out for professional help. I began spiraling into a depression. I was failing the majority of my classes. I was always assigned detention and tutoring because of my poor attendance which made the days I did go to school much, much longer. Especially because I had to take a long, inconvenient bus route home if I didn't catch the bus right after school. Naturally, I showed up to school even less.
I told my mom one morning, about why I didn't like going to school. I said I was depressed and it was because the family friend had SA'd me. She straight up laughed at me. She told me old men do not do that to such young girls. She just continued to yell at me for not going to school and being lazy every morning. She claimed I was lying to try and get out of school again. I felt hopeless and never brought it up to her again.
My mother is sheltered and a bit "off". Many would call her eccentric. She certainly lives in a different world than everyone around her. Though she genuinely has my best interests at heart, she is emotionally unavailable for the most part and lacks self awareness to get help. After this encounter and realization my mental issues got much worse.
I recall around that time period I began to feel like there were cameras in my room. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I just felt like I looked different. Perhaps that was my first time feeling manic. I also got really addicted to the internet. It did not help that I was the weird kid at school. No one wanted to be my friend except other weird kids. My teachers gave me a really hard time too.
Then, sophomore year, I moved cities. Instead of having access to just weed I had found hard drugs. I made friends with bad crowds and did whatever I could find which was honestly everything. Getting high felt so right and so good, the best I ever felt in my life. Unbeknownst to me, though, I was getting more and more deluded. Most my life I felt that I was asleep through it. Not literally, because I really only slept between zero and three hours a night, but mentally.
My mother moved away in my early twenties and I temporarily lived with her boyfriend. Wehn we would go to the bar, he would order me like three "Sex on the Beach" and then make me drive us home. He blasted porn in the mornings. Really loudly. His whole life is his job title so I think that held him back from doing more than that in her absence, but it still felt like a weird invitation. He also sometimes talked to the Russian sex worker that he pays to talk to. My mother and I are Russian if that helps you understand how awkward I felt about it. And no, I didn't tell my mom about this either. He sometimes would put my mother down and tell me that my mother should dress more like me and weigh closer to what I weigh. How do I tell my mother that exactly? They're married now and I guess I'm just grateful she has someone to talk care of her financially and someone who won't hit her?
Obviously I realize now that it would be "correct" to make her aware of these things, but in the moments I just had other things going on in my life and I did not want to deal with it. My mother and I were all we had here in America. My mother always overworked herself while I "worked behind the scenes" to alleviate her worries as much as I could.
-Will add more later.-
kittermeow · Mon Jan 15, 2024 @ 05:25am · 0 Comments |
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