so sorry

Hi. This is my first post… I’ve never told anyone that I wanted to end my life before. Now that I’m putting it out there for the first time is just a major relief. Don’t get me wrong, I try to be a good person, but I’m not perfect. I love my family and my family loves me, but they cause me so much emotional pain. Where to start… I think my sister would have to go first. We have always really gotten along, but we fight a lot and she tells me she doesn’t care about me. She is younger, but she is much bigger than me and I get scared of her easily. I know she could hurt me if she wanted to. When I was a little girl, my brother died and my mother had a nervous breakdown. My parents would never blame me for their son’s death, but they hadn’t planned on having anymore children when my mother found out that she was pregnant. So, they had my sister and my mother clang to her. I was the bad child and I got the spankings and I was the one who was always wrong. And I was sorry that I couldn’t be what they wanted. I’m still so sorry. My parents never whipped her because she was reserved and quiet. But they took a lot of their frustration out on me. They had a terrible marriage and an even worse divorce. To this day, there were a lot of times that I didn’t, and still don’t, know what I did wrong. Here is an example: When I was in middle school, one of my friends came to live with us because her parents could not afford her. So, we, me and my mother, had cooked supper and I took my plate and went to the living room. We had all decided we wanted to sit in there and eat that night. So, I, unknowingly, sat down in a chair that my sister wanted. She told my mother that she wanted to sit there and my mother beat me out of the chair and whipped me until I ran away from her. My friend was mortified, she didn’t want to stay, but I assured her that it was alright. That I had, had a lot worse through the years. She sat with me in my bedroom until I wasn’t scared anymore. My mother is sick… she is so sick. She takes medication to keep her steady and calm. But she hates me… somewhere deep down in her heart she hates me so much and I don’t know why. She has hit me with countless things. Her fist, broom handles, hickory bush switches, limbs, belts, and there was even a time that she hit me so hard with a flyswatter that it broke and she stabbed me with it. I’m eighteen and the last time she hit me, I was about seventeen. She told me that I was worthless and that I never did anything for her. That I was a lazy, ungrateful, unappreciative child that didn’t care about anything. I told her that she was wrong and that she was lying. It was just me and her, so she hit me and hit me and knocked me down on to the couch and hit me some more. I had never said anything like that to her before. Then, she called all of her friends, my father, my grandparents, and let them know how terrible I was and that she had to hit me one time to make me stop my nonsense. I was humiliated. I know… more like I hope, that my dad and my grandparents didn’t believe her. My father punished me anyway, but I hope he didn’t believe anything she said. I was just so tired of letting her cut me down. I don’t hate her and I could never bring myself to fight back. My dad hasn’t hit me since the divorce, but the last time I remember him whipping me was a long time ago. He was outside with one of his friends and he told me to go inside so I turned around and started walking up to the house. Then, he started whipping me on the shoulders with a hickory switch form behind. I ran away in to the house and told my mother. That was one of the worst arguments they had ever had. Recently, I told my mother I wanted to move out and she told me I couldn’t until I graduated. And I stood up for myself for the second time in my life, I dared her to just try and stop me. She was really mad, but she didn’t hit me that time. She’s manic-depressive and sometimes I’m her best friend and other times I’m her worst nightmare. Usually, I have no self-confidence, I try to have a positive self-image and I try to be positive. But she tells me all the time that I’m wrong and that I annoy her and that I do stuff to get on her nerves. When I try to stay away from her she says I’m reclusive and that I’m doing it for attention. When I try to tell her about my day or talk to her about my problems, she says that I always come to her when I have problems and that she doesn’t like talking to me because I make her sadder than what she already is. I just want someone to listen. For once I just want someone to care. I’m not looking for pity. I don’t want anyone’s sympathy. I know a lot of people out there have had it worse than me and that I should be grateful that I have parents who at least let me still live with them. Thank you for your time.

– onetwo