The Light At The End of The Tunnel Is A Lie

Posted on: Thursday, May 5th, 2016,12:26AM

 

Hi, my name is Carlos. I was born on Dec. 2, 1997 and I suffer from ADHD, anxiety and depression. I am Puerto Rican and was born and raised in America. I have 4 older siblings all also native to America. Three sisters with my brother being the oldest out of all of us, me being the baby in the nest.

 

I’m not really sure how I should start this off so I won’t worry about it, I’ll just start off from where I think it matters the most.

 

As a child, I had sort of a violent childhood. It was mostly violent because of all that I had witnessed as a young boy.

 

As a child, I was very quiet, reserved. Unusually so. I usually wouldn’t speak unless spoken to. I was a good kid, though I worried some because I was just so timid and reserved most of the time. I’m sure some people thought that I had autism or something but, at the age of three I changed completely from that quiet, reserved kid to a violent, borderline psychotic child. My mother had even gone as far as to call a priest to our home to see if perhaps I was possessed by a demon (the priest had told her that I was just extremely troubled and that I required medical attention). I was never the same again after I had fell out of the third story window. My siblings wanted nothing to do with me from then on, always pushing me aside, never really inviting me whenever they went to hang out with their friends because of my obnoxious and overly-hyper personality and so for the most part of growing up, I was a shut-in. I never got to develop any proper social skills, I never made any friends, I never went to normal schools, all special ED because it was just easier on my mother (by this time, she was devorced because it turned out that her husband/my step-dad was molesting my youngest sister and he fled before the police could catch him), so my childhood was practically non-existent. I was ALWAYS alone because I was convinced that I was a burden to anyone and everyone.

 

My mother had to raise me, the problem child, and 4 other kids on her own. I was probably the worst because of my horrible temper (once, I threw a glass plate at the back of my sister’s head and it landed her in the hospital. Another time, I chased her around with a knife). My mother always tried to have someone baby-sit me but, all the people that she left me with couldn’t handle me for more than five minutes before they were calling my mom back to have her pick me up and take me back home.

 

I was pretty much a handful after the incident.

 

Luckily, I had only acquired a couple of bruises here and there when it happened. If there was ever a time to wonder if a Guardian Angel’s handiwork was at play, then that moment and the moments that followed after were definitely one’s to consider as such…

 

 

Time skip forward passed all the doctor appointments and medicating, and at the age of 15, I finally noticed that I just wasn’t a happy individual… Not even remotely. I was so bitter and hated life with a passion. At that age it was where I had experienced my very first suicidal thought.

 

After two years of silently suffering, of silently enduring, at the age of seventeen the suicidal thoughts became too intense, too realistic. I first started cutting at 15, but at 17, I got way more aggressive.

 

The self-harm wounds suddenly seemed to always leave scars until cutting just wasn’t enough and I started considering other solutions to end my pain. Permanent solutions…

 

 

I remember looking down into my palm at all the white pills piled on top of each other. It was definitely a sure overdose if I went through with it, I knew that, yet, I dumped the pills back into the bottle and went to bed.

 

Later that week, I asked my mom if she could set up an appointment because ‘I wasn’t feeling good’. I had basically set up a fake appointment so that I could confess to my doctor that I’ve been having dangerous suicidal thoughts for awhile.

 

I went through the process and got help. After I received the help, things seemed to be looking up.

 

I finally stated attending public high school and it was like I was living in a dream. It didn’t last long though.

 

It seemed that one by one, everyone that had supported throughout my treatment had suddenly started to drift away.

 

Eventually, everything reverted back to the old ways and worse this time.

 

Now, I’m currently eighteen, a high school dropout, no plan for the future, no one I can talk to that cares. Just like before, everyone is treating me badly.

 

But this time it’s 10x worse, because now they know the reason why I act the way that I do, why I do the things that I do; because I suffer from anxiety and depression, but before, they had a legitimate excuse. They didn’t know there was anything wrong with me. They thought that I was just a bitter, miserable teenager, but now? They KNOW why I’m like this. It’s because I truly AM a miserable teenager.

 

But they just don’t seem to care; they continue to neglect me, especially my mother, the one person that I thought I could go to to seek love & support, but instead I receive nothing but insults. She only points out my faults, she yells at me for being lazy but doesn’t consider that maybe I’m not being lazy, but am just in fact unmotivated to do anything. When I don’t speak up in public or try to avoid conversations with people, she gets angry at me and thinks I’m being arrogant instead of considering the possibility that I’m actually just trying to avoid a panic attack.

 

I don’t bother trying to explain myself to her anymore because her responses are so invalidating it crushes me inside.

 

 

All my life, I’ve only had her to look to for support, love and understanding, but I’ve never gotten it.

 

I’m so done trying and trying and trying just to have ignorant and selfish people come along and tear me down.

 

I feel so under-appreciated and worthless. Nothing I do pleases anyone. Everyone is always getting upset with me, bossing me around, calling me selfish. They tell me to stop being so lazy, immature and irresponsible but I was never taught to do the opposite.

 

My mother is always complaining about things and whines so much, I have no room whatsoever to vent myself because if I do, then I’m the one being selfish and ignorant. If I complain and whine, then I’m the heartless one.

 

I’m tired feeling this way; I have no support, I receive no love, I can’t vent for the fear of being called selfish. I’m such a burden to those around me. It seems my only purpose in life is to make people miserable…

 

I’m going to end my life very soon.

 

Mother’s Day is just around the corner. I’m hoping I can end my life on Mother’s Day so that it hurts my mother that much more around this time of year.

 

I hope that it’s a painful reminder of how badly she failed all 5 of her kids and how her failure as a parent caused one of them to take their life.

 

I want this to be the ultimate revenge for failing me. I hope it kills her.

 

Thank you for reading.