I’m asking for respect

I’ve spoken to my teachers and my school counsellor before, and I’ve vented to my friends about my mother specifically. She’s the one person in my life whom I just feel I cannot be nice to, because she doesn’t want to be nice in return. I talk to her calmly, and she decides to just throw temper tantrums and, this has yet to happen this year but had occurred more than once a few years back, she sometimes stomps her feet and pulls my cheeks while smiling at me in an angry fit.

I hate it. I hate the way she treats me. I don’t even say treated, because she still treats me with disrespect and expects to be worshipped like some sort of deity. Everything she says is the truth and she’s never wrong. Everybody, especially me, is a liar and intolerably(to her) imperfect. She’s blatantly racist, lies to me about the most ridiculous things, picks fights with me over small matters, and misconstrue my words so that it looks like I’M the one provoking her and attacking her. I’m underage, and even if I do find work I can’t move out so fast because I know life isn’t that easy. It makes me sick knowing I’ll be stuck with her emotional abuse for years to come, provided she doesn’t suddenly start being physically abusive again too.

She is the reason I fear math so much, that when I couldn’t do a math paper during one of my exams THIS YEAR, I cried silently during the paper because I felt so damn hopeless. Every now and then I remember how she once sat behind me, and when I couldn’t do a math question (this was during primary school), she kicked me on the back, slapped me, and pulled my hair and shouted repeatedly that I was stupid because the question was so simple. Many years later, I realise she can’t even do the homework I have now because she’s been out of school for decades. So why is the question so easy, yet she couldn’t do it at the time?

I’m not asking for my parents to see me as some kind of civilised adult, but I’m asking for respect. Mutual, earned respect. My father once asked me what the “Green things on a tree were”(moss) earlier this year, while my mum kept trying to “teach” me how to open a pot lid and scoop up porridge. The fact that my own parents see me as so stupid childish to the point where I sound as if I am so incapable of living that I can’t even tell what nature is, despite the fact that my teachers and friends(whom I see most often when I’m not at home) see me as “mature” in some respect, clearly shows something wrong. I joke that I’m stupid, partly because I have internalised it from years of verbal abuse, but am I really so stupid to the point where I don’t even know how to do simple tasks? Are they going to teach me how to eat and spoon-fed me next?

I’m sick and tired of being treated as I am at home, I see loving families and while I’m happy for them there’s a tinge of bitterness sometimes. I dislike mothers to some extent despite being a girl myself. I’ve contemplated suicide so many times, called a suicide hotline, I don’t bottle my feelings up and I make it known to trusted friends. But as long as I continue to stay in this hellhole, I’m never getting away from her grasp.

I can only hope I’ll hang on and not actually step onto the road and get myself struck by a car, or jump out the window like I always think about.

Stay, you are needed

I was recently diagnosed with clinical depression, anxiety and OCD. I am still learning to slowly accept my diagnosis because when the doctor said I have these illnesses, it was a confirmation of my deepest fears yet a sense of relief and consolation that what I’m feeling is real. 


I grew up in a messed up home where my parents were either not home at all or when they’re home, they would verbally and physically abuse me. They are really successful perfectionists so they expect perfection from me as well. If I don’t live up to their standards, I know I would be in deep trouble. 


I didn’t think much of all the abuse that was happening because I thought it was normal. I only came to a realization when I entered a local school where teachers questioned beating marks on my body. This happened throughout middle and high school. I hated myself and I wanted to die. 


In the 21 years of my life, I have attempted suicide 3 times, all unsuccessful. I felt worthless and a burden to everyone around me. I felt like I didn’t deserve to be at church because people at that particular church were judgmental and topics about mental illnesses and suicide were all avoided. I felt all alone in this world because I had no one to talk to about feeling down. I lost all my faith in God and I stopped going to church. 


Around 2 years ago, a friend of mine invited me to her church near my house. I am so glad I went and got to know the people there. They were so loving and friendly, and they were the family I never had. I found people that have helped me realize that it’s okay not to be okay and that it’s okay to feel my emotions, and not bury them. 


I am also very grateful and thankful for the guidance of my therapist and psychiatrist for helping through rough times when I felt like I couldn’t go on, and for bearing with me when I have outbursts in sessions. 


Today, I am still in the process of learning how to love and be kind to myself. Even though I am still going through a dark time, I am glad to have people that listen. Their very presence brings comfort to my hurting soul. To those who feel alone, please know that you’re not alone. I am here, please do not give up, I am living proof that you can survive this. Stay, you are needed. 

You are worthy of love

I had a rocky childhood: My father was abusive and unfaithful, and my parents divorced when I was 9. My mother never fully recovered from that trauma. I grew up believing I was a burden to my mother, and had my first major depressive episode in my teens. 10 years and countless episodes of depression later, I finally ended up at IMH after coming close to completing suicide. Now, after over a year of therapy and trying three different antidepressants, I can finally say I’m stable. There are still awful days when I feel utterly hopeless and the suicidal thoughts return, but I am now better equipped to handle them. My only regret was not seeking help earlier because I was convinced that how I was feeling was my fault, not something to be remedied. To anyone else struggling as I did: you are worthy of help, you are worthy of love! Don’t hesitate to seek help!

No one has to go through it alone

One day after my 18th birthday, I started self-harming. It started small, using pens or needles to slash my wrists. It hurt, and I wanted to stop, but I also felt… nothing. I did it the first time to stop crying when my father was hitting and hurling insults at me, and I didn’t want him to see me crying to prevent more beatings.


It started to get worse, of course. I used the kitchen knives in my house, and I would cut almost every now and then. I wore jackets to school so no one could tell, but at times I did take my jacket off so everyone could see. 
I didn’t really care at that point. I didn’t have friends, and I was quite used to being judged anyways.


It got better for me for a moment, until I had a fight with a friend and I tried to end my own life – overdosing on paracetamol but too scared to stab myself with the knife I had in hand. 


That was all one year ago. I still have those memories playing in my head like it was yesterday. 
I’ve gotten better at my own recovery. My self-harming has decreased and I am finding the support I need. And even though I still don’t have as many friends, I know there are people I can rely on.


For anyone suffering through their struggles, I just wish to say that I am proud of you. No one has to go through that struggle, and I know each and everyone of us going through this is strong and capable in their own way.
 I say, keep fighting. Keep fighting through every hardship and setback you face. I wish someone told me that when I first started, but now I only want to help anyone struggling through that too. 
No one has to go through it alone. 

I was abused by my father

I was abused by my father when I was younger; it lasted until I was 16. Although I came clean about it to my parents 3 years ago, they expect me to have moved on from it. My mum especially believes it is wrong of me to still hold a grudge against my dad. It is really difficult to forgive him when he does not acknowledge that what he did was unacceptable. I’ve struggled with self harm for the past 5 years. I probably suffer from PTSD too according to a counsellor I saw but I haven’t been able to afford a professional diagnosis. I’m basically alone in my recovery from the abuse because I cannot be honest with my family members about my true feelings and struggles. 

I’m in the process of internalizing that while my past is always going to be a part of me and influence my actions and perspective, it does not define me nor does it dictate my future. The hardest part, I’m pretty much alone in my recovery. I have amazingly supportive friends but it still pains me that my family is not part of my recovery process.