- Dec 22, 2014
For the past four years of my teenage existence, I've been slightly emotionally unstable. Often, I've been know to tear up about subjects I am passionate about (ie bullying, insecurities, etc). I could honestly be describing how much I hate the taste of butter, only to find myself in tears over the subject. I get shaky and it is hard to breathe. There are other times when I might go to my room, listen to music, and have this sense of loneliness, despite having six siblings In my home. I might randomly burst in to tears with no provoking, and when I've dried up the tears, not understand why I am crying. Or I might snap at people for nothing serious. There are many days when I wish to hide under my covers and sleep for eternity. I often sink into books and indie music. One day I might look in the mirror and love myself, and the next might be so insecure as to want to skip work or classes because I can barely look at myself. I might be laying in bed, and I feel like I'm choking. Oddly, since I was at least twelve, I vomit or become nasaeus randomly once a week or every two weeks, and once I puke or sleep it off, feel completely fine. My biological mom, who I haven't associated with in many years, has mild schizophrenia. I live with my adopted father and step mother. My biological half brother and I have a rough and possibly abusive history with each other. The other day I was speaking with him, and broke out into tears about a conversation dealing with a MP4 player he broke when I was twelve. Anyways, most people don't understand I am like this. I come from an upper-middle class white family, I am not particularly unattractive, and I've always been relatively popular. I am extremely friendly and bubbly, but sometimes I just feel inexplicably sad, even next to my best friend. I always have this yearning to move many miles away, where nobody will know me. I'm super social, but I'd rather shop or walk the beach alone. For a long time I've known I've had some sirt of mental illness. I tired explaining it to my family once, to ask for therapy or support, but they brushed it off and called me over dramatic, and I fear bringing the subject up again, even 4 years later. I'm about to head off to college in August, and I just wish I could get help somehow before I self destruct. It's not like I can just tell my parents, because my stepmom doesn't particularly like me and tries to make me seem like a bad person as it is to my adopted father. If I tell them again, and they brush it off, I'll break. I couldn't handle it. I dint know what to do. I need someone to talk too and maybe some anti depressants.