I just need to get it out. I’m 30 in July. I’ve never once had a job. I’m mentally disabled but can’t get on disability. Everyone treats me like I’m trash not worth helping. I’ve been bullied all through school, treated like I’m scum by the government, and my own family looks at me with contempt.
All I do anymore is sit and cry. When I try to talk to anyone it’s always “What do you have to be depressed about.” I can’t afford to get help, the government keeps denying me help because my parents aren’t complete assholes, and every place I apply to looks down on me like they can’t believe I even dared to come apply at their place of business and no I’m not just seeing things. The contempt isn’t even hidden. I’m so tired I just want to never wake up again but it doesn’t happen.
I keep telling myself I should leave my boyfriend it’s been 5 years and he’s still living with his parents in Arcata, 13 hours away with no future. If I try and say anything he explodes in the most whiny outbursts ever making me feel like garbage for having my doubts, but if I did what would that do? I’d just be completely alone then. I don’t have friends, I can barely stand people anymore. There’s not a man alive that would want such a pathetic creature as myself.
There is -no- future, things won’t get better they never do. I’m out of hope completely, I don’t function anymore. My anxiety has gotten so bad I can’t even walk out my front door.
It used to be I’d have these thoughts and think It’s not going to happen. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let myself die that easily. I’ll find a way to make it better! But now that I’m closing in on 30, alone, and with every attempt thwarted in some fashion to stop me dead in my tracks. I think if It wouldn’t hurt, if my parents could get my life insurance, if I didn’t cost them anything…I’d do it…Why can’t just -one- good thing happen to me…just one…that isn’t poison…
Oh and just to make things even better *sarcasm*. I’m 320 lbs, and nothing I do will get rid of it. I go to the gym, I eat hardly anything…I’ve been fat since puberty…
I think I’m going to add to this. I’m more focused out that I’ve stopped crying.
My parents are considered wealthy, they aren’t. They’re in soul crushing debt. They’re good people but misguided. They’ve spent themselves into debt for my sister, my dad’s family, and burials. For everyone else…there was help, there was affection, there was something if they needed it my parents were there. I learned instead, self-sacrifice. I had to give up things I needed or wanted because someone else in the family had screwed up and they needed it more. I am fiercely independent, stubborn, and I will do anything for someone in need. Including cause myself emotional or physical harm to obtain the means to help.
In return I’ve been given nothing of real value. All of my friends are fake and after something, my parents buy objects instead of facing the problems I’m suffering. My boyfriend is an unmotivated mamma’s boy. But lets go back to me for a moment. And how things typically progress for me.
My parents shelled out a great deal of cash for my sister’s wedding. My brother-in-law’s family refused to pay a dime, he was a security guard and didn’t make much money, so my parents footed the bill entirely. When I got older I said “One day I want to get married.” And my mother’s response which never wavered was “Go to a justice of the peace…” and when I said I wanted a real wedding my mother’s response was “been there done that, you want me to come hold it in Vegas…” Do you have any idea how painful that is to be told? The same holds true to “I think one day I want kids.” “You don’t need them. I have grand kids so I don’t need anymore.”. They were willing to buy everything necessary for my sister to become an animator, though my sister backed out before they did because it’s too much work. “Mom, I want to start a video game company, or run a video game store.” “Good luck with that.” My sister’s actions have always dictated my life. Even when I was in college fighting to get my AA through Financial aide, proving that I work hard at everything I do…my sister’s actions determined what I’d actually do in my parents mind.
It would have been fine if home life was the only place I got attacked from but school wasn’t much better. I was horribly bullied in school, in elementary school I was not only viciously hunted down and beaten by five boys while teachers looked on (I am a girl by the way.), but I was treated as the problem. Chased from getting on the bus, how dare I screw around and miss the bus. They wrote my name on the wall “Why would anyone write someone else’s name on the wall?” Scrub it off! how dare you vandalize the school! My favorite was Jr. High. After months of bullying, them trying to sever my wrist, punching me, kicking me, beating me. I finally had enough and when the Yard duty followed us after a particularly brutal beating I told her I wanted to go to the vice principal. His exact words were “If they are attacking you, you must have done something to provoke them. If I see you complaining about bullying again I’m going to expel you.” And it worked I was too scared to say anything…last day of school. The bullies hospitalized me. The doctor was the only person who actually cared. I’d never heard someone scream into a phone so loud in my life. The school had blown off all the nurses saying what was sprayed in my eye was nothing. It was his threats of pressing charges for obstructing his ability to save my eye that finally got them to look. They should have been sued, but my mother the ever ‘understanding’ woman that she was, opted for them just paying the medical fees…
Other trauma’s I’ve endured. I lost my best friend, someone I think was actually my best friend, in a car wreck…in a car I should have been in. It should be me dead, not him. But he is. Then a few months after that, my grandfather died, and a few months after that my Nana, and all through it all people pressed, school assemblies the whole nine yards so no one would forget how or why my best friend died…and no one stopped it. No one cared. A few years later I fell in love, truly in love, and he died too…everyone that I ever love with all my heart…dies. I’m a plague upon people’s lives.
My father doesn’t believe in depression, he thinks because he buys me things, some how I’m supposed to be happy. A video game, a toy of some kind, those things do -not- solve my problems, they are nice, but they are not the cure. I am dying inside, but I can’t do it on the outside.