athousandsorrows
Member
- Jul 5, 2018
- 70
Hi everyone. I'm new, I just joined this forum and I have to say that just finding it has made me a little happier. I'd like to tell my story, if I may. I'm not looking for anything in particular other than maybe the opinions of those who can identify with what I'm going through, since I really have no one to talk to about this.
I'm 31 years old, and I'm female. I've been severely depressed for, I want to say about 3-4 years, but ever since I can remember I've felt out of place, like I don't belong anywhere, always sad and melancholic, like I'm missing something and I don't even know what it is. When I say missing something, I mean as if I'm actually missing a person, a place, or something, I just don't know what.
My life has not been the worst, but it hasn't been the best either. My story is pretty similar to many, I imagine. I come from a broken home. My mother was (still is) an alcoholic and my childhood was, as far as I can remember, a nice one, with both my parents being very loving, up until my younger brother (who is 5 years younger than me,) was born. That's when my mom started changing. She became very violent towards me specifically, never laying a finger on my brother, but brutally attacking me both verbally and physically. I've been told frequently that I should let that part of my life go, since it happened so very long ago (when I was about 10-11 up until I turned 18). I find that advice to be cruel. I can't let something so horrible go.
We had a comfortable, mid-upper class life. I went to a private school, and was always raised to believe I was a little above the rest (something I now absolutely despise). I remember coming home from school absolutely terrified wondering if I'd find my mom dead on the floor, or if she'd be okay. Those were the good days, when she could still be okay if only for one or two days. Eventually it came to a point where I didn't have to wonder anymore. She was always drunk out of her mind.
My father, unable to handle her, and unwilling, perhaps, to try to commit her to a rehab center (which I begged him to do on innumerable occasions,) couldn't take it and was never home. He played billiards after work and I would often not see him until the weekends, if ever. I felt responsible for my little brother and started taking care of both my mother and him.
When my parents finally divorced, my father decided to move to another country. He gave me and my brother a choice. We could go with him, or stay with mom. My brother didn't hesitate and immediately accepted my father's offer. I thought that if she were left alone, she would surely die. Either she'd fall down drunk and hit her heard, or even commit suicide, since she was in bed for days on end, not showering, often soiling her sheets. I could tell she was very depressed, and I honestly thought she needed to be taken care of, so I chose to stay with her.
That was the worst mistake I've ever made. I took care of her for a couple of years while I finished high school. When I graduated, I told myself I would finally be free, no matter what happened to her. I tried to help her, I really did. I offered to accompany her to AA meetings, wherever she wanted. We could go out of town, I suggested, so she might not run into anybody she might know. I got rid of every bottle of wine and beer I could find hidden around the house, only for her to go out and buy more. I couldn't help her, so I decided to be free, and soon after graduating high school I left the country.
9 months after I'd moved to a new country, she arrived at my doorstep, like a baby. She didn't move in with me (I wouldn't allow it,) but she found a place 6 blocks away from where I was living, and she would make sure I couldn't get rid of her in any way, shape, or form. She made friends, good friends I thought, who were worried about her once her inevitable alcoholism came crawling back, and she could no longer dissimulate it in front of her friends. Her friends would call me asking if she was okay, and I just didn't know what to tell them.
It became common practice for me to show up at her place after not hearing from her in about a week, only to find her laying in her own feces, reeking of alcohol, rambling incoherence. She'd often curse at me, tell me she wished I'd never been born, insult my appearance, or just be plain mean. I'd put her in the shower, changed the sheets, feed her if possible, then leave. That happened every month. Finally, my father, who had been helping me out with money but nothing else (no emotional support at all,) offered to "rescue" me and bring me to the country he was living in with my brother.
I accepted his offer. That was the second worst mistake I've ever made. Ever since I moved here, not only have I lost all independence and control over my life, but I feel more alone and hopeless than I ever was taking care of my abusive mother. I think that my father's guilt over doing nothing for my mother, has made him go to another extreme when it comes to me.
It's no secret I'm the black sheep of the family. I'm the loser who can't keep a job, who doesn't have a boyfriend or kids, who has no money. I'm the screw-up. My father offers no emotional support, and never has. He's given me a roof under my head, for which I am grateful, but that's it. There's no talking to him. My depression became so bad that I couldn't even shower for weeks. Just the thought of seeing people made me panic in a very bad way.
I went to a psychiatrist, forced by my dad who is convinced my mother brainwashed me or that I'm just like her, because I'm her daughter. Needless to say, therapy did not work for me. I went to the therapist for a little over a year and I took a myriad of medications, all to no avail. I found out my father and his wife (he remarried) were seeing my therapist behind my back, and I just felt completely betrayed. Mind you, I was 29 when I started therapy, so really I felt like I had no say in the matter, and that I was being treated like a child.
I quit therapy not too long ago. About 6 months ago. Though I am able to shower now, nothing has changed much. I lost my job last year and I've been unable to keep one ever since. I just got fired less than a month ago because they found me crying at work and considered me unstable. I'm currently living at my dad's house, and I haven't spoken to my mother for over 3 years (my choice).
That's my current situation. I'm 31 years old, unemployed and unable to keep a job, completely depressed and constantly thinking about just ending it all. I wake up crying every day. More accurately, I wake up, realize I'm still alive, then I cry. I go to bed every night wishing I don't wake up. I've read up on many suicide methods but I think I'm too weak to do anything. My life is wasting away, and I hate it, but I also don't want to do anything to change it.
Everything I wrote is just a summary of many, many more tragedies that have happened to me. Some because of my horrible choices, some out of my control. In any case, I don't know how to live. I find today's society to be just disgusting. Even if somehow tomorrow I were to wake up full of energy and wanting to do something, I'm sure something would just ruin it eventually.
I hope my introduction wasn't too long, and I hope to meet some like-minded people here.
Greetings! You can call me Ally.
I'm 31 years old, and I'm female. I've been severely depressed for, I want to say about 3-4 years, but ever since I can remember I've felt out of place, like I don't belong anywhere, always sad and melancholic, like I'm missing something and I don't even know what it is. When I say missing something, I mean as if I'm actually missing a person, a place, or something, I just don't know what.
My life has not been the worst, but it hasn't been the best either. My story is pretty similar to many, I imagine. I come from a broken home. My mother was (still is) an alcoholic and my childhood was, as far as I can remember, a nice one, with both my parents being very loving, up until my younger brother (who is 5 years younger than me,) was born. That's when my mom started changing. She became very violent towards me specifically, never laying a finger on my brother, but brutally attacking me both verbally and physically. I've been told frequently that I should let that part of my life go, since it happened so very long ago (when I was about 10-11 up until I turned 18). I find that advice to be cruel. I can't let something so horrible go.
We had a comfortable, mid-upper class life. I went to a private school, and was always raised to believe I was a little above the rest (something I now absolutely despise). I remember coming home from school absolutely terrified wondering if I'd find my mom dead on the floor, or if she'd be okay. Those were the good days, when she could still be okay if only for one or two days. Eventually it came to a point where I didn't have to wonder anymore. She was always drunk out of her mind.
My father, unable to handle her, and unwilling, perhaps, to try to commit her to a rehab center (which I begged him to do on innumerable occasions,) couldn't take it and was never home. He played billiards after work and I would often not see him until the weekends, if ever. I felt responsible for my little brother and started taking care of both my mother and him.
When my parents finally divorced, my father decided to move to another country. He gave me and my brother a choice. We could go with him, or stay with mom. My brother didn't hesitate and immediately accepted my father's offer. I thought that if she were left alone, she would surely die. Either she'd fall down drunk and hit her heard, or even commit suicide, since she was in bed for days on end, not showering, often soiling her sheets. I could tell she was very depressed, and I honestly thought she needed to be taken care of, so I chose to stay with her.
That was the worst mistake I've ever made. I took care of her for a couple of years while I finished high school. When I graduated, I told myself I would finally be free, no matter what happened to her. I tried to help her, I really did. I offered to accompany her to AA meetings, wherever she wanted. We could go out of town, I suggested, so she might not run into anybody she might know. I got rid of every bottle of wine and beer I could find hidden around the house, only for her to go out and buy more. I couldn't help her, so I decided to be free, and soon after graduating high school I left the country.
9 months after I'd moved to a new country, she arrived at my doorstep, like a baby. She didn't move in with me (I wouldn't allow it,) but she found a place 6 blocks away from where I was living, and she would make sure I couldn't get rid of her in any way, shape, or form. She made friends, good friends I thought, who were worried about her once her inevitable alcoholism came crawling back, and she could no longer dissimulate it in front of her friends. Her friends would call me asking if she was okay, and I just didn't know what to tell them.
It became common practice for me to show up at her place after not hearing from her in about a week, only to find her laying in her own feces, reeking of alcohol, rambling incoherence. She'd often curse at me, tell me she wished I'd never been born, insult my appearance, or just be plain mean. I'd put her in the shower, changed the sheets, feed her if possible, then leave. That happened every month. Finally, my father, who had been helping me out with money but nothing else (no emotional support at all,) offered to "rescue" me and bring me to the country he was living in with my brother.
I accepted his offer. That was the second worst mistake I've ever made. Ever since I moved here, not only have I lost all independence and control over my life, but I feel more alone and hopeless than I ever was taking care of my abusive mother. I think that my father's guilt over doing nothing for my mother, has made him go to another extreme when it comes to me.
It's no secret I'm the black sheep of the family. I'm the loser who can't keep a job, who doesn't have a boyfriend or kids, who has no money. I'm the screw-up. My father offers no emotional support, and never has. He's given me a roof under my head, for which I am grateful, but that's it. There's no talking to him. My depression became so bad that I couldn't even shower for weeks. Just the thought of seeing people made me panic in a very bad way.
I went to a psychiatrist, forced by my dad who is convinced my mother brainwashed me or that I'm just like her, because I'm her daughter. Needless to say, therapy did not work for me. I went to the therapist for a little over a year and I took a myriad of medications, all to no avail. I found out my father and his wife (he remarried) were seeing my therapist behind my back, and I just felt completely betrayed. Mind you, I was 29 when I started therapy, so really I felt like I had no say in the matter, and that I was being treated like a child.
I quit therapy not too long ago. About 6 months ago. Though I am able to shower now, nothing has changed much. I lost my job last year and I've been unable to keep one ever since. I just got fired less than a month ago because they found me crying at work and considered me unstable. I'm currently living at my dad's house, and I haven't spoken to my mother for over 3 years (my choice).
That's my current situation. I'm 31 years old, unemployed and unable to keep a job, completely depressed and constantly thinking about just ending it all. I wake up crying every day. More accurately, I wake up, realize I'm still alive, then I cry. I go to bed every night wishing I don't wake up. I've read up on many suicide methods but I think I'm too weak to do anything. My life is wasting away, and I hate it, but I also don't want to do anything to change it.
Everything I wrote is just a summary of many, many more tragedies that have happened to me. Some because of my horrible choices, some out of my control. In any case, I don't know how to live. I find today's society to be just disgusting. Even if somehow tomorrow I were to wake up full of energy and wanting to do something, I'm sure something would just ruin it eventually.
I hope my introduction wasn't too long, and I hope to meet some like-minded people here.
Greetings! You can call me Ally.
