Why yes, I do realize that I haven't posted on here in nearly a month. Thanks for noticing.
So I took a really big step last week. I was doing really, really bad. Like, handful of pills in my palm, don't be a fucking chicken, fuck everything, I don't give a shit anymore... I still kind of wish that I had had the guts to do it.
I didn't, though. Instead, I made an appointment with a therapist. Yeah.
It was hard. I wanted to turn back, and I still want to, but... I won't. I guess. I have an appointment on Tuesday, at 1 pm.
See, when I was eleven years old, my parents took me to a therapist in the small town of Rockport. I was excited. I knew, I knew that I all I had to do was tell an adult, who was being paid to listen to me, what the fuck was going on at my house, with my dad, with my family, and they would get. me. out. They would make it better! It'd be like the movies, yeah? Just like the movies...
Well, they put me on Zoloft, which did nothing but give my dad yet another reason to point out what was wrong with me. After the medication, they made me talk. And I did. I talked a lot. I told them about how my dad makes me feel, how he gets drunk all of the time, how he scared the fucking hell out of me. The bastard who called himself a therapist would twist everything around, and make all of it my fault. Yes, it is my eleven-year-old fault that my dad is an alcoholic and verbally abuses me day in and day out. Definitely.
So I told them that I was happy. They took me off of the medication, and they took me out of therapy. No use in wasting insurance money if the little fucker's happy, is there?
I wasn't happy. Therapy made everything worse. Little did I know, though, that I would be entering middle school soon, where life gets even shittier.
I survived, I guess. I'm still here, an emotional wreck.
It's just.. what am I gonna say to this lady? What am I gonna tell her. Hi, I'm Amanda, and though I'm 19 and am trying to be a functional adult, the bullshit childhood that I was stuck with still haunts me to this day. Oh, and I'm mentally demanding of everyone that I care about, I have random spurts of anger and agression, and I hear people in my head (people that I LIKE) telling me to stop being such a fucking pussy and just kill myself already.
I guess that that would be a start, eh?
Eugh. I need a new hobby. One that doesn't involve me being a crazy mother fucker.
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1 comment:
Eruka, wow.
Seriously, don't hurt yourself, okay?
I mean, trust me. It may not seem like it, but people need you. They really do. And there are people who haven't met you yet who need to meet you.
I hope therapy helps you. If it doesn't, please GOD don't off yourself. Just keep venting and working to get past it in any way you can that doesn't involve hurting yourself.
YOUR LIFE IS WORTH SOMETHING.
Don't let anyone, especially some drunk, pathetic excuse for a father. And you may love him still or whatever, I don't know the whole story, but don't swallow any vulgar bullcrap from someone who obviously has way worse problems. Hang in there, alright? I know you can.
I mean, if I went and killed myself, where would Asher be? Just think, someone could need you like that, and you'd be taking yourself away from them.
It may suck, a whole fucking lot, but not everything is awful. Especially not you. Alright?
Okay.
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