Lifelong loner…

Somehow, I just stumbled across this website while I was doing a Google search on heart palpitations. It’s odd how things like that happen.
I don’t really expect that anyone will read this. I’ve come to learn that in general, people don’t care what I have to say. But I guess I’m at the point where I just don’t care anymore. There’s really no other way to express my feelings, so posting my thoughts here seems rather appealing to me.
I’m a 23-year-old girl who grew up in a respected upper-middle-class family, with my “normal” biological parents. I never had any traumatic experiences during my childhood – I say this because I hear others mention that they’ve been sexually or physically abused as children (which would understandably leave quite a scar), but I have never had to suffer through any of those nightmares. I suppose, looking at my life from that angle, you could say that I’m quite lucky.
And yet, despite all of those things being to my advantage, I’ve had “issues” for as long I can remember.  From the moment I started kindergarten, it was clear that I was different. The other kids didn’t like me much and the teachers always thought I was badly behaved. As I got older, I moved on to first grade, second grade, third grade and son on… but nothing about my situation ever changed. I would get into trouble at school constantly for reasons that I could never understand and my relationship with the other children seemed to only get worse. Being labeled as the “bad one” only made me more of an outsider. I guess at a certain age, I came the realization that there was nothing I could do to avoid this label. In the third grade, my mother took me to see a psychologist at the request of our school principle, and I think it was around that point that I really just stopped trying to be like the other kids.
When I was a young teenager, I spent a year locked away in an adolescent mental ward. I don’t recall how I got there. I only remember that I had depression and social anxiety and refused to go to school. I didn’t ever fit in at school and I didn’t fit in there at the hospital either.

I’ve had one or two friends here and there throughout my life, but none of them really understood me. It was always such an effort for me to maintain a friendship with “normal” people and in the end, I would always end up losing my friends through some random event. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my life, it’s this: Essentially, I always end up alone.

Now I am in my 23rd year of existence and I have two children of my own. A boy, who is 5, and a girl, who is 4. Their fathers aren’t around. I met my son’s father in a psychologists waiting-room when I was 16. He asked for my number. Somehow I managed to get into a relationship… one of the few relationships I’ve ever had, but it was never really much of a relationship in the first place.  It lasted for a year, but he lived in a different town from me and we saw eachother very rarely. When I got pregnant, he suddenly lost interest. Then I met the father of my daughter at university. No, actually, I never went to university, (I didn’t even finish 9th grade), but someone from school got in touch with me out of the blue and asked me to go to the university with her for a couple of drinks. (To this day, I have no idea why she would even do that. I was never friends with her – she was merely an acquaintance.) I’d never been drinking with my peers before… I guess I was flattered that someone had actually asked me to go somewhere with them. When I got there, we both got very intoxicated, and she left with a guy, leaving me with no way to get home. I woke up the next morning with a 30-something-year-old guy… that’s how my daughter was created.
In a way, I’m kind of lucky for those experiences. If they hadn’t have happened, I probably would never had had children at all. I doubt I would ever find anyone to voluntarily  have kids with me. It would be sad if I missed out on having kids altogether and at least childbirth is one achievement that I can say I’ve accomplished in life.
But on the other hand, being a parent is a living nightmare. I am a horrible mother, and being single and completely useless as a person makes it even worse. I live with my parents still because I am unable to take care of myself. I find it difficult to leave the house these days, so my kids don’t get to experience things like other children do, such as play-dates or going to the movies.
On top of that, my depression makes it difficult for me to cope with them. Sometimes I’m impatient and I yell at them. I’m erratic and I often I act like more a child than what they do. They know that I want to kill myself and they cry about it. They want to hug me sometimes, but I just can’t stand human contact and I have to push them away. I love them so much but sometimes I can’t even stand being around them.  I try to spend time with them, but it only takes about 30 minutes before I feel too uncomfortable and I have to leave. My son is obsessed with TV and video games because I don’t spend enough time with him. It makes me so sad to think about how he’s going to end up because of me.
I spend a lot of time alone because that’s pretty much all I know how to do. I taught myself to knit and crochet and I read. Sometimes I play video games. Anything that takes my mind off my life. I have absolutely no friends. Not one in the world. And above all, I have no future. Every day I wake up and I wonder why I even bother. I tell myself that I keep going for my children, because it would be hard on them if I were to kill myself…. but these days I’m starting to think that perhaps they would be better off without me.