To us the world is different.

As we are to the world, but I guess you would know that.

Favorite line from my favorite song. But moving forward.

I’ve been plagued with the world’s worse bout of depression I’ve ever felt. Its not that I havn’t felt this way before, but the difference here is that I can’t cry; and something about that seems to be hindering my healing process. Quite frankly though, I’m getting tired. Very tired.

I feel like I’m going insane, and the stillness I’m experiencing is like an inner ring of hell. I’m depressed to a point where there’s NOTHING I want to do, which makes no sense seeing as I have most of what I need, and a beautiful farm to walk on in rural vermont.  I have a dog, and a loving boyfriend of five years, but I hate myself. Thoroughly.

I grew up in an abusive household. Both parents were emotionally abusive (though my mom…I don’t think she meant it.) and my dad was an alcoholic bastard that physically beat me and my younger brother who is disabled by autism. I was frequently the “protector” of my brother, and was constantly asked to choose sides in my parent’s relationships whenever there was an argument about something. Its funny how these things happen and you don’t realize how damaging it is until later.

There were also periods of time in which my dad would ask for massages, or back rubs. Afterwards he would have me lay in bed next to him and say that he loved me. Nothing…more ever happened than that, but I shudder and realize how naive and vulnerable I was at that age. (21 now, I think I was 13 then?) Then one day it stopped. I guess my mom didn’t see it as appropriate behavior, but instead of actually explaining, my dad was able to turn EVERYTHING around and said that I “no longer deserved his love” over some stupid childish thing I had done. (And I actually mean childish. I think I only recieved a C in math, and then didn’t ask before eating something.) Of course though this riddled me with guilt.

Needless to say I got into a lot of fights with my dad, all resulting in punishments while my mom watched. Sometimes he would just beat me with his fists, sometimes it was his belt. Sometimes he kicked me, or slapped me on the ass while I was walking up the stairs. If I was in trouble he would follow close behind me and force me to walk faster or else I would get a healthy dose of punches to the back of my head. I remember seeing stars more than once. If he was really angry he would get centimeters from my face and scream. I was afraid more than once that he was going to kill me. I also walked in on him beating on my brother; a grown man PUNCHING a child. I feel guilty about this too…because sometimes..I didn’t do anything. I was too scared.

The biggest fights we ever had though were about my interests and career choices. I’m a visual artist, and its not something I can just stop doing. Illustration is something I was bred to breathe and do; of course though dad had higher expectations for both my career AND choice of boyfriend. But both these things were put on the back burner, while I changed the diapers of my younger brother (he wore diapers and I changed them up until I was 19 and he was 17. Dad never did anything for my brother Steven. He didn’t see him as human because of his autism.)

Despite all of this I went to college, and made sure that I stayed in the dorms my first year. My boyfriend would tell me how abused I was, but I didn’t see it until after my freshman year. I still had so much stress though, and I don’t think the academics helped with that. (Needless to say I pulled straight A’s my first year.) My grades were something important, and I was afraid my dad would treat them the same way he treated highschool grades; which resulted in more abuse.  He was already upset about the college I chose, and already upset that I decided to take out student loans despite the fact that he did not have the money to pay for my college. Really what it was, was that he didn’t want me to leave.

After coming home from college I realized how bad things were. My dad had converted the house to solar power; but long story short if ANYONE used electricity who would know. He even went as far as taking away my ONE light in my bedroom because he claimed I was using too much electric. (I did not even have a computer at this time, and working anything larger than that on solar with the way my dad had things hooked up was impossible.) The morning after I came home from college was the day I left. My dad had gotten angry with me for using hot water, (it was hooked to an electric heater which was hooked up to the solar…) to infuse some warm water for my betta fish. Dad would not allow me to use her fish heater, so I was trying to meet him half way.

He responded by storming into my room, wrenching the heater off my bed (which wasn’t even hooked up.) and then said, “this is mine now.”  I started packing a bag before he left the room and stormed out the side door. He chased after me and asked where I thought I was going. But I responded back with telling him to fuck off. I’ve never seen a look on his face, but it was one that filled me with pure horror and satisfaction. And with one change of clothes, on a very rainy and muddy day, I ran away from home at the age of 20. (I had been on the road before for a couple years, but thats another story, as it seems this one has become increasingly long…)

My mom responded by crying, and my dad responded by chasing me down with his car. I ran into the woods and tried hiding as he threatened to kill me. I lost him, AND my mom, and have lived with my boyfriend ever since.

But my mom is still in this situation, and despite her inability to be a good mother, I still feel like I should help her.  She’s being emotionally abused. She can’t have family over, or friends. (actually she doesn’t have friends.) Dad controls all the money and he gets upset if we are on the phone together for more than half an hour. I see my mom and brother twice a month. But its never enough.  There’s this hole in my childhood that I can’t fill. This sense of being nurtured that I never had,  and its effecting me and the way I form relationships.

I’ve been in and out of therapy, and think I’m probably depressed and have some kind of bipolar disorder. I yell at my boyfriend, and I don’t mean to because he’s the most important person in my life. If I ever lost him out of something I did, or if I just wear him down enough with my constant emotional issues, I think I would just kill myself.

I really want to get antidepressents but I don’t have health insurance and I don’t have money. The only time I’ve felt…good. or even, or normal was from smoking pot. But is that the real me? What if I took antidepressents? Is THAT the real me? Who am I really? I don’t like the person I am, but I don’t want to lie to myself by taking mind altering substances. But at the same time I don’t want to feel like this anymore.

I feel bitter when I see my boyfriend’s family all together. They have a great life and I’m happy I’m a part of it.  Its obvious everyone loves each other, but despite the fact that they’ve accepted me into their home…I don’t FEEL like a part of their family because…its not..the same blood. I can’t relate with them on some things, and I know they can’t relate to me. The only person I feel that family kinship with is my mom. But I feel bitter around her too. She’s been so emotionally and mentally damaged, she’s already showing signs of Alzheimers at the age of 40.  And I know that I’ll be the one to take care of her, because I don’t have the heart to send her into a nursing home.

She hasn’t gotten to know ME since I left the house. It’s like she’s stuck in the past, and I can’t move forward because she wont and can’t. We also think she may have skin cancer (sores on her face and hands that wont heal, mishapen moles. Scabs that itch and fall off, but always remain, severe weight loss…) but she refuses to get help because dad might divorce her. And I know she’ll choose him over her own well being. She’s chosen him over her own children, so I don’t see this trend ending anytime soon.

I know this is a long post, and for anyone that actually spent the time to read it..I appreciate it. I’ve just been so depressed for so long..I don’t know how to cope anymore.