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I'm Trying (A Life Story)

FindingTheMeaning

FindingTheMeaning

Active member
Joined
Aug 7, 2019
Messages
26
Location
USA
Knowing you most likely read the title, I want to start out by saying this is my first time trying out an online mental health forum. To be honest, I have no idea where to start but I figure at some point everything is worth a try. I felt really called while lying in my bed indulging in my monotonous cycle after a day of work and furthermore could barely hold it together even registering. That out of the way, I'd like to be able to share maybe just a small summary of what I'm dealing with (its still quite long, after all its a life story)

*Exhale* Where do you even begin? I could describe the past week, the past year, or hell even my entire life story. At some point all of it matters. The good and the bad. Well, a brief synopsis couldn't hurt anyone. The past year of my life has been an utter... pit of despair. At the start of the year I started noticing things slowly fading. Hobbies, emotions, friendships, ambitions, all were turning grey. The worst part about it all was that everyday I noticed it getting worse, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt as if I was sliding down a hill grasping for dear life to anything, I mean ANYTHING that could have even a small chance of preventing me reaching the bottom. I was 20, and in April turned 21. I was working full time at a retail store job in a half-way management position doing my best to support myself. All my family was and still is over 1000 miles away. It had been 5 years since the last time I lived in the same house as my parents. Growing up, I was raised by a mentally ill mother and a passive father. I didn't know until much later in my life that either of these things were anything but normal. In fact, I didn't even find out my mom had a mental illness until a few years ago. I am the youngest of three, with two older sisters. I was the only other male in the household and my mom did a great job reminding me of this constantly. On an almost daily basis when my dad was at work I would be berated with phrases such as "You're just like your father" and "You're selfish and lazy and never do enough." My dad worked a full time job and a part time job in the evening so he was barely home. By the time I turned old enough to do school, my mom wanted to do homeschooling. I think it had something to do with her dissatisfaction with the public school system. I remember doing 1st grade watching pre recorded videos from the 90s in the middle of my kitchen floor. Yes, the kitchen. My mom bought a traditional style school desk and placed it in the kitchen and watched me like a hawk day in and day out making sure I was doing school correctly. From what felt like day one I was scared to death. I was alone with her most of the time and felt like even at that age like I was walking on eggshells. I knew if she got out of control I would have no escape. Then, when my dad got home she would find some super trivial thing to complain about and turn it into a huge ordeal. It started with the blaming, the moved onto ad hominem, until a lot of times circumventing into a conversation about me and how my dad was failing as a father. I would have to sit there listening to my mom scream for hours until eventually storming off into her bedroom and locking the door for the night.

She worked occasionally but it was only part time. Whenever she was gone the fog lifted and I felt free. Most of the time she expected me and my siblings to do school 10 hours a day and then clean with whatever time we had left. I'm not talking small chores either. Pages on pages of instructions and demands that she put dates on. Despite hating my mother, I still wanted to try. I was hoping maybe if one day she wasn't mad I could happy. It wasn't until years of trying this did I realize how pointless this gesture was. She never saw what we did, but always what we didn't. And if we did it, she would find some way to discredit it. I had one friend growing up that I was decently close with but getting out of the house usually involved a mixture of lies and manipulation. I knew I would get yelled at, but hell, that was gonna happen anyway.

In junior high I would be forced to go to church on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings. This was honestly some of my first interaction with a big group of people my age and I never saw any way to connect. I felt behind the curve. I hid behind the video games and my knowledge. Because of my mother, I turned into a perfectionist. Everything was a game, even life itself. I got insanely good at 4-Square and some other dumb games my church liked to host interim of the bible studies. Its not like I didn't want to talk or engage but I was ingrained with this idea that I was worthless unless I was able to DO something to add value. Myself and I was not enough. My pastors would always brag about how good of a kid I was and I never understood why. I felt like a total failure no matter what. It was only in those brief moments of victory and struggling over the hurdles of adversity in games did I feel any sense of satisfaction. And it was fleeting.

These habits transitioned into high school as I got my first job and saved up enough money to buy a PC. I was thrilled. I got in Skyrim and later Battlefield. For three solid years I did nothing with my life but school and video games. At the end of my "freshman" year (homeschooling is odd) I told my dad I couldn't live with my mom anymore. She had thrown my dad out of the house multiple times and he never stood up for himself let alone me. I moved in with my grandmother until I finished high school. During that time, I got insanely good at these games until the point I played pro for a year. It was the first time I felt like an integral part of something.... but still it was all just a front. My mom thought I was some satanic creature for liking a game so violent. No matter how many facts I could lay out, she wouldn't listen. Now I at least know she is just incapable. I still had "friends" at church but not having a phone and being denied the ability to learn how to drive put a lot of things back. When I turned 17 I finally got a phone, but little did they know I had been using my Ipod for texting for years. Once I graduated high school I had no plan. My oldest sister had just gotten married and offered I live with them to get a good start out. She barely knew about my video game addiction and even though it kept me from doing a lot of stupid things she couldn't see it being healthy and I was "kicked out."

My good friends now consisted of people on the internet that I had never met in person. In a tough spot my friend invited me out to his place over 1600 miles away all expenses paid. It was the greatest week I have ever had. Later on, my other friends got wind of the things I was dealing with and I made the decision to move in with one of them. That is why I am so far away from home. I got a job, I was able to afford a cheap albeit cool BMW, and I still loved gaming. My semesters at college were vastly separated because of finances but I was making small progress. Then mid to late 2018 happened. Someone crashed into my car damaging the frame and it was rendered totaled. At this point I was part of a car community that I loved and this felt like an un-invitation. Despite everyone saying I could still go to events and meets, I felt unworthy. So I stopped. Cold turkey. I hid in my job and thought maybe trying to climb the ladder was gonna help with that until I was told I was too young to pursue anything more. At home, all the games that were being released did not strike my fancy. I was so lost, but I kept going. In October I had to find my own place and started paying rent. Then in January, this whole cycle started.

Things started numbing up at a pace I was definitely not comfortable with. Then someone came into my life that I saw as a gleaming angel of hope. She was a co-worker of mine that worked part time and in a different department. She was pretty and nice and the few conversations I had with her seemed to go well. I got her number and we started hanging out. She was older than me by a few years but I didn't mind. Everytime we hung out, we were chronic talkers and this is coming from someone who considers himself an introvert. The moon seemed to change forms before we stopped. During the months of Jan and March I was excited. I was hopeful however I felt anxious all the time. I never really had asked her on a date, but figured I would give it a shot. I know I probably should of waited longer than three months, but it was eating me inside. So the day comes after we had hung out for a few hours and before she headed home I asked. Not entirely shocking to me, she said no. At that moment, my world fell. Hard. The hard like in Inception where the last dream level all the skyscrapers fall. My plans, my future, my hopes. After standing there probably looking like a white zombie, I felt an intense desire to disappear. To not exist. To die. I wished at that moment she had rather pulled a gun on me and shot me then tell me no. I put her in the spot of fixing my life and that expectation is way too much for one person to bear. Despite knowing it was a bad idea, it was the only one I had.

The next months were the toughest I have ever experienced and that is saying something considering how I grew up. An intense pain plagued my mind and soul every waking moment. The only times I get could away was when I was asleep. The blanket of grey fully enveloped me. I didn't have a plan anymore, I had no hope, and saw things as pointless. I didn't talk to her for weeks until I wrote a letter and sent it to her. I told her I didn't want to be mad but I couldn't stand the idea of not having her as a part of my life. She didn't respond to it. Despite feeling like I was pouring out every part of me to her, I felt a growing distance. I couldn't take it. I resorted to self harming, something I never would of seen myself doing 5 years prior. I injured myself in a way to remind myself of the pain she caused me but in reality I was punishing myself. Punishing myself for not being enough. It was the same message drilled into me from my childhood circling in my head. No matter what anyone said to me, I felt like it was all lies. I couldn't believe what people were telling me when they said I was smart, or tough, social, and had tons of potential. I feel like if it was really true the facts would of been different. I would be somewhere else and more successful in my efforts. After she noticed, she was scared. Probably not as scared as I was. I texted her that I didn't mean for it to affect her and she met that with an open invitation to ask her anything first. Bad idea because I had way too many questions. She wouldn't tell me why she rejected me and it bugged me because my mind was defaulting to the worst possible reasons. I guess at some point she felt uncomfortable and she reported me to HR and I was fired. Bam, another strike. I thought she was my friend and she did that to me. So here I am. I've been seeing therapists for a while now, but can't shake the disappoint and hatred I have towards myself. Sorry if this was a bore to read, but this is truly the fastest way to explain the major points. Hopefully someone will read this and possibly connect. There is still so much more in between the lines, but I figure this a good start.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
B

Blooper

Well-known member
Joined
Jul 24, 2019
Messages
49
Location
Blooper Land
Knowing you most likely read the title, I want to start out by saying this is my first time trying out an online mental health forum. To be honest, I have no idea where to start but I figure at some point everything is worth a try. I felt really called while lying in my bed indulging in my monotonous cycle after a day of work and furthermore could barely hold it together even registering. That out of the way, I'd like to be able to share maybe just a small summary of what I'm dealing with (its still quite long, after all its a life story)

*Exhale* Where do you even begin? I could describe the past week, the past year, or hell even my entire life story. At some point all of it matters. The good and the bad. Well, a brief synopsis couldn't hurt anyone. The past year of my life has been an utter... pit of despair. At the start of the year I started noticing things slowly fading. Hobbies, emotions, friendships, ambitions, all were turning grey. The worst part about it all was that everyday I noticed it getting worse, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt as if I was sliding down a hill grasping for dear life to anything, I mean ANYTHING that could have even a small chance of preventing me reaching the bottom. I was 20, and in April turned 21. I was working full time at a retail store job in a half-way management position doing my best to support myself. All my family was and still is over 1000 miles away. It had been 5 years since the last time I lived in the same house as my parents. Growing up, I was raised by a mentally ill mother and a passive father. I didn't know until much later in my life that either of these things were anything but normal. In fact, I didn't even find out my mom had a mental illness until a few years ago. I am the youngest of three, with two older sisters. I was the only other male in the household and my mom did a great job reminding me of this constantly. On an almost daily basis when my dad was at work I would be berated with phrases such as "You're just like your father" and "You're selfish and lazy and never do enough." My dad worked a full time job and a part time job in the evening so he was barely home. By the time I turned old enough to do school, my mom wanted to do homeschooling. I think it had something to do with her dissatisfaction with the public school system. I remember doing 1st grade watching pre recorded videos from the 90s in the middle of my kitchen floor. Yes, the kitchen. My mom bought a traditional style school desk and placed it in the kitchen and watched me like a hawk day in and day out making sure I was doing school correctly. From what felt like day one I was scared to death. I was alone with her most of the time and felt like even at that age like I was walking on eggshells. I knew if she got out of control I would have no escape. Then, when my dad got home she would find some super trivial thing to complain about and turn it into a huge ordeal. It started with the blaming, the moved onto ad hominem, until a lot of times circumventing into a conversation about me and how my dad was failing as a father. I would have to sit there listening to my mom scream for hours until eventually storming off into her bedroom and locking the door for the night.

She worked occasionally but it was only part time. Whenever she was gone the fog lifted and I felt free. Most of the time she expected me and my siblings to do school 10 hours a day and then clean with whatever time we had left. I'm not talking small chores either. Pages on pages of instructions and demands that she put dates on. Despite hating my mother, I still wanted to try. I was hoping maybe if one day she wasn't mad I could happy. It wasn't until years of trying this did I realize how pointless this gesture was. She never saw what we did, but always what we didn't. And if we did it, she would find some way to discredit it. I had one friend growing up that I was decently close with but getting out of the house usually involved a mixture of lies and manipulation. I knew I would get yelled at, but hell, that was gonna happen anyway.

In junior high I would be forced to go to church on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings. This was honestly some of my first interaction with a big group of people my age and I never saw any way to connect. I felt behind the curve. I hid behind the video games and my knowledge. Because of my mother, I turned into a perfectionist. Everything was a game, even life itself. I got insanely good at 4-Square and some other dumb games my church liked to host interim of the bible studies. Its not like I didn't want to talk or engage but I was ingrained with this idea that I was worthless unless I was able to DO something to add value. Myself and I was not enough. My pastors would always brag about how good of a kid I was and I never understood why. I felt like a total failure no matter what. It was only in those brief moments of victory and struggling over the hurdles of adversity in games did I feel any sense of satisfaction. And it was fleeting.

These habits transitioned into high school as I got my first job and saved up enough money to buy a PC. I was thrilled. I got in Skyrim and later Battlefield. For three solid years I did nothing with my life but school and video games. At the end of my "freshman" year (homeschooling is odd) I told my dad I couldn't live with my mom anymore. She had thrown my dad out of the house multiple times and he never stood up for himself let alone me. I moved in with my grandmother until I finished high school. During that time, I got insanely good at these games until the point I played pro for a year. It was the first time I felt like an integral part of something.... but still it was all just a front. My mom thought I was some satanic creature for liking a game so violent. No matter how many facts I could lay out, she wouldn't listen. Now I at least know she is just incapable. I still had "friends" at church but not having a phone and being denied the ability to learn how to drive put a lot of things back. When I turned 17 I finally got a phone, but little did they know I had been using my Ipod for texting for years. Once I graduated high school I had no plan. My oldest sister had just gotten married and offered I live with them to get a good start out. She barely knew about my video game addiction and even though it kept me from doing a lot of stupid things she couldn't see it being healthy and I was "kicked out."

My good friends now consisted of people on the internet that I had never met in person. In a tough spot my friend invited me out to his place over 1600 miles away all expenses paid. It was the greatest week I have ever had. Later on, my other friends got wind of the things I was dealing with and I made the decision to move in with one of them. That is why I am so far away from home. I got a job, I was able to afford a cheap albeit cool BMW, and I still loved gaming. My semesters at college were vastly separated because of finances but I was making small progress. Then mid to late 2018 happened. Someone crashed into my car damaging the frame and it was rendered totaled. At this point I was part of a car community that I loved and this felt like an un-invitation. Despite everyone saying I could still go to events and meets, I felt unworthy. So I stopped. Cold turkey. I hid in my job and thought maybe trying to climb the ladder was gonna help with that until I was told I was too young to pursue anything more. At home, all the games that were being released did not strike my fancy. I was so lost, but I kept going. In October I had to find my own place and started paying rent. Then in January, this whole cycle started.

Things started numbing up at a pace I was definitely not comfortable with. Then someone came into my life that I saw as a gleaming angel of hope. She was a co-worker of mine that worked part time and in a different department. She was pretty and nice and the few conversations I had with her seemed to go well. I got her number and we started hanging out. She was older than me by a few years but I didn't mind. Everytime we hung out, we were chronic talkers and this is coming from someone who considers himself an introvert. The moon seemed to change forms before we stopped. During the months of Jan and March I was excited. I was hopeful however I felt anxious all the time. I never really had asked her on a date, but figured I would give it a shot. I know I probably should of waited longer than three months, but it was eating me inside. So the day comes after we had hung out for a few hours and before she headed home I asked. Not entirely shocking to me, she said no. At that moment, my world fell. Hard. The hard like in Inception where the last dream level all the skyscrapers fall. My plans, my future, my hopes. After standing there probably looking like a white zombie, I felt an intense desire to disappear. To not exist. To die. I wished at that moment she had rather pulled a gun on me and shot me then tell me no. I put her in the spot of fixing my life and that expectation is way too much for one person to bear. Despite knowing it was a bad idea, it was the only one I had.

The next months were the toughest I have ever experienced and that is saying something considering how I grew up. An intense pain plagued my mind and soul every waking moment. The only times I get could away was when I was asleep. The blanket of grey fully enveloped me. I didn't have a plan anymore, I had no hope, and saw things as pointless. I didn't talk to her for weeks until I wrote a letter and sent it to her. I told her I didn't want to be mad but I couldn't stand the idea of not having her as a part of my life. She didn't respond to it. Despite feeling like I was pouring out every part of me to her, I felt a growing distance. I couldn't take it. I resorted to self harming, something I never would of seen myself doing 5 years prior. I injured myself in a way to remind myself of the pain she caused me but in reality I was punishing myself. Punishing myself for not being enough. It was the same message drilled into me from my childhood circling in my head. No matter what anyone said to me, I felt like it was all lies. I couldn't believe what people were telling me when they said I was smart, or tough, social, and had tons of potential. I feel like if it was really true the facts would of been different. I would be somewhere else and more successful in my efforts. After she noticed, she was scared. Probably not as scared as I was. I texted her that I didn't mean for it to affect her and she met that with an open invitation to ask her anything first. Bad idea because I had way too many questions. She wouldn't tell me why she rejected me and it bugged me because my mind was defaulting to the worst possible reasons. I guess at some point she felt uncomfortable and she reported me to HR and I was fired. Bam, another strike. I thought she was my friend and she did that to me. So here I am. I've been seeing therapists for a while now, but can't shake the disappoint and hatred I have towards myself. Sorry if this was a bore to read, but this is truly the fastest way to explain the major points. Hopefully someone will read this and possibly connect. There is still so much more in between the lines, but I figure this a good start.

Wow...I am bad with words. **hugs**

You are not alone.
 
LadyDomino

LadyDomino

Well-known member
Joined
May 7, 2019
Messages
142
Location
Dorset
It never ceases to amaze me how a parent can be so blind and fail to see the effect their behavior can have on their child. Your mother's behavior is NOT your fault. The problem is hers.

I hope you find a therapist who can help.
 
C

Coolname

Well-known member
Joined
Jun 3, 2019
Messages
222
Location
UK
It never ceases to amaze me how a parent can be so blind and fail to see the effect their behavior can have on their child. Your mother's behavior is NOT your fault. The problem is hers.

I hope you find a therapist who can help.
Sometimes the parent does see but they want to do it so they do.
Sometimes it is actively malicious.
 
C

Coolname

Well-known member
Joined
Jun 3, 2019
Messages
222
Location
UK
Knowing you most likely read the title, I want to start out by saying this is my first time trying out an online mental health forum. To be honest, I have no idea where to start but I figure at some point everything is worth a try. I felt really called while lying in my bed indulging in my monotonous cycle after a day of work and furthermore could barely hold it together even registering. That out of the way, I'd like to be able to share maybe just a small summary of what I'm dealing with (its still quite long, after all its a life story)

*Exhale* Where do you even begin? I could describe the past week, the past year, or hell even my entire life story. At some point all of it matters. The good and the bad. Well, a brief synopsis couldn't hurt anyone. The past year of my life has been an utter... pit of despair. At the start of the year I started noticing things slowly fading. Hobbies, emotions, friendships, ambitions, all were turning grey. The worst part about it all was that everyday I noticed it getting worse, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt as if I was sliding down a hill grasping for dear life to anything, I mean ANYTHING that could have even a small chance of preventing me reaching the bottom. I was 20, and in April turned 21. I was working full time at a retail store job in a half-way management position doing my best to support myself. All my family was and still is over 1000 miles away. It had been 5 years since the last time I lived in the same house as my parents. Growing up, I was raised by a mentally ill mother and a passive father. I didn't know until much later in my life that either of these things were anything but normal. In fact, I didn't even find out my mom had a mental illness until a few years ago. I am the youngest of three, with two older sisters. I was the only other male in the household and my mom did a great job reminding me of this constantly. On an almost daily basis when my dad was at work I would be berated with phrases such as "You're just like your father" and "You're selfish and lazy and never do enough." My dad worked a full time job and a part time job in the evening so he was barely home. By the time I turned old enough to do school, my mom wanted to do homeschooling. I think it had something to do with her dissatisfaction with the public school system. I remember doing 1st grade watching pre recorded videos from the 90s in the middle of my kitchen floor. Yes, the kitchen. My mom bought a traditional style school desk and placed it in the kitchen and watched me like a hawk day in and day out making sure I was doing school correctly. From what felt like day one I was scared to death. I was alone with her most of the time and felt like even at that age like I was walking on eggshells. I knew if she got out of control I would have no escape. Then, when my dad got home she would find some super trivial thing to complain about and turn it into a huge ordeal. It started with the blaming, the moved onto ad hominem, until a lot of times circumventing into a conversation about me and how my dad was failing as a father. I would have to sit there listening to my mom scream for hours until eventually storming off into her bedroom and locking the door for the night.

She worked occasionally but it was only part time. Whenever she was gone the fog lifted and I felt free. Most of the time she expected me and my siblings to do school 10 hours a day and then clean with whatever time we had left. I'm not talking small chores either. Pages on pages of instructions and demands that she put dates on. Despite hating my mother, I still wanted to try. I was hoping maybe if one day she wasn't mad I could happy. It wasn't until years of trying this did I realize how pointless this gesture was. She never saw what we did, but always what we didn't. And if we did it, she would find some way to discredit it. I had one friend growing up that I was decently close with but getting out of the house usually involved a mixture of lies and manipulation. I knew I would get yelled at, but hell, that was gonna happen anyway.

In junior high I would be forced to go to church on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings. This was honestly some of my first interaction with a big group of people my age and I never saw any way to connect. I felt behind the curve. I hid behind the video games and my knowledge. Because of my mother, I turned into a perfectionist. Everything was a game, even life itself. I got insanely good at 4-Square and some other dumb games my church liked to host interim of the bible studies. Its not like I didn't want to talk or engage but I was ingrained with this idea that I was worthless unless I was able to DO something to add value. Myself and I was not enough. My pastors would always brag about how good of a kid I was and I never understood why. I felt like a total failure no matter what. It was only in those brief moments of victory and struggling over the hurdles of adversity in games did I feel any sense of satisfaction. And it was fleeting.

These habits transitioned into high school as I got my first job and saved up enough money to buy a PC. I was thrilled. I got in Skyrim and later Battlefield. For three solid years I did nothing with my life but school and video games. At the end of my "freshman" year (homeschooling is odd) I told my dad I couldn't live with my mom anymore. She had thrown my dad out of the house multiple times and he never stood up for himself let alone me. I moved in with my grandmother until I finished high school. During that time, I got insanely good at these games until the point I played pro for a year. It was the first time I felt like an integral part of something.... but still it was all just a front. My mom thought I was some satanic creature for liking a game so violent. No matter how many facts I could lay out, she wouldn't listen. Now I at least know she is just incapable. I still had "friends" at church but not having a phone and being denied the ability to learn how to drive put a lot of things back. When I turned 17 I finally got a phone, but little did they know I had been using my Ipod for texting for years. Once I graduated high school I had no plan. My oldest sister had just gotten married and offered I live with them to get a good start out. She barely knew about my video game addiction and even though it kept me from doing a lot of stupid things she couldn't see it being healthy and I was "kicked out."

My good friends now consisted of people on the internet that I had never met in person. In a tough spot my friend invited me out to his place over 1600 miles away all expenses paid. It was the greatest week I have ever had. Later on, my other friends got wind of the things I was dealing with and I made the decision to move in with one of them. That is why I am so far away from home. I got a job, I was able to afford a cheap albeit cool BMW, and I still loved gaming. My semesters at college were vastly separated because of finances but I was making small progress. Then mid to late 2018 happened. Someone crashed into my car damaging the frame and it was rendered totaled. At this point I was part of a car community that I loved and this felt like an un-invitation. Despite everyone saying I could still go to events and meets, I felt unworthy. So I stopped. Cold turkey. I hid in my job and thought maybe trying to climb the ladder was gonna help with that until I was told I was too young to pursue anything more. At home, all the games that were being released did not strike my fancy. I was so lost, but I kept going. In October I had to find my own place and started paying rent. Then in January, this whole cycle started.

Things started numbing up at a pace I was definitely not comfortable with. Then someone came into my life that I saw as a gleaming angel of hope. She was a co-worker of mine that worked part time and in a different department. She was pretty and nice and the few conversations I had with her seemed to go well. I got her number and we started hanging out. She was older than me by a few years but I didn't mind. Everytime we hung out, we were chronic talkers and this is coming from someone who considers himself an introvert. The moon seemed to change forms before we stopped. During the months of Jan and March I was excited. I was hopeful however I felt anxious all the time. I never really had asked her on a date, but figured I would give it a shot. I know I probably should of waited longer than three months, but it was eating me inside. So the day comes after we had hung out for a few hours and before she headed home I asked. Not entirely shocking to me, she said no. At that moment, my world fell. Hard. The hard like in Inception where the last dream level all the skyscrapers fall. My plans, my future, my hopes. After standing there probably looking like a white zombie, I felt an intense desire to disappear. To not exist. To die. I wished at that moment she had rather pulled a gun on me and shot me then tell me no. I put her in the spot of fixing my life and that expectation is way too much for one person to bear. Despite knowing it was a bad idea, it was the only one I had.

The next months were the toughest I have ever experienced and that is saying something considering how I grew up. An intense pain plagued my mind and soul every waking moment. The only times I get could away was when I was asleep. The blanket of grey fully enveloped me. I didn't have a plan anymore, I had no hope, and saw things as pointless. I didn't talk to her for weeks until I wrote a letter and sent it to her. I told her I didn't want to be mad but I couldn't stand the idea of not having her as a part of my life. She didn't respond to it. Despite feeling like I was pouring out every part of me to her, I felt a growing distance. I couldn't take it. I resorted to self harming, something I never would of seen myself doing 5 years prior. I injured myself in a way to remind myself of the pain she caused me but in reality I was punishing myself. Punishing myself for not being enough. It was the same message drilled into me from my childhood circling in my head. No matter what anyone said to me, I felt like it was all lies. I couldn't believe what people were telling me when they said I was smart, or tough, social, and had tons of potential. I feel like if it was really true the facts would of been different. I would be somewhere else and more successful in my efforts. After she noticed, she was scared. Probably not as scared as I was. I texted her that I didn't mean for it to affect her and she met that with an open invitation to ask her anything first. Bad idea because I had way too many questions. She wouldn't tell me why she rejected me and it bugged me because my mind was defaulting to the worst possible reasons. I guess at some point she felt uncomfortable and she reported me to HR and I was fired. Bam, another strike. I thought she was my friend and she did that to me. So here I am. I've been seeing therapists for a while now, but can't shake the disappoint and hatred I have towards myself. Sorry if this was a bore to read, but this is truly the fastest way to explain the major points. Hopefully someone will read this and possibly connect. There is still so much more in between the lines, but I figure this a good start.
Hey!

I'm sorry to hear your story. I hope you don't beat yourself up about it all. I left childhood with negative self esteem. I had a desperate need to belong to someone or something but did not believe I was worthy. I grasped at any sense of belonging, any kindness, any friendliness or sense of care like I was grasping for a lifejacket. There are many of us, you are certainly not alone.

It sounds like your mother would have treated any boy child the same way. It sounds like there is no one you could have been, nothing you could have done which would have been good enough. As Lady Domino says, absolutely none of your mother's behavior was your fault. None of it was a genuine reflection of who you are, of your value as a person.

Hugs.
 
FindingTheMeaning

FindingTheMeaning

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Hey!

I'm sorry to hear your story. I hope you don't beat yourself up about it all. I left childhood with negative self esteem. I had a desperate need to belong to someone or something but did not believe I was worthy. I grasped at any sense of belonging, any kindness, any friendliness or sense of care like I was grasping for a lifejacket. There are many of us, you are certainly not alone.

It sounds like your mother would have treated any boy child the same way. It sounds like there is no one you could have been, nothing you could have done which would have been good enough. As Lady Domino says, absolutely none of your mother's behavior was your fault. None of it was a genuine reflection of who you are, of your value as a person.

Hugs.
Thank you so much... I am also surprised at how many people struggle with this. I guess people really don’t talk about it too much. Society has a terrible way of shaping what we are supposed to act like.

Sometimes the parent does see but they want to do it so they do.
Sometimes it is actively malicious.
In my case, my mom wasn’t even aware anything she was doing was wrong. She never apologized to me, and always shifted blame on anyone but herself.
 
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