My life makes me think of the Alps, an uphill battle everyday. My blog has become a very depressing blog, to say the least. To give a little background information… I was born into a Catholic family, in Austin Texas. I am the youngest of three siblings. My parents divorced when I was about five years old. I have an older brother and sister, whom I hardly know.
When I was little, my father would call daily to talk to us kids. Due to my moms new husband, my brother went to stay with my father shortly after. Then it was myself and my older sister. The phone calls slowed down a bit and shortly after that, my sister went to live with our father. She had been molested by our step dad and our father took her in. The calls stopped. I’ve often wondered why. By the time I was in sixth grade, I had been beaten, molested, a knife held to my throat, and a gun held to my head by my step dad. My father wouldn’t save me.
My mom finally left this man because he cheated on her. It was like she nor my father ever really cared what happened to me. I have questioned this my entire life, wondering what is wrong with me that my own parents didn’t want to protect me. When my mother finally left this man, I only gained more responsibilities…taking care of my half brother and sister and keeping up the house. I felt like a slave.
I ran away and started living with a great family, while my mother found herself a new husband. They had the sheriffs office bring me back, promising me it would be different. But, shortly after being brought back, I was then abandoned and left with her so to be ex-husband. She packed up my my little sister and brother in the middle of the night. Having no where to go, I called my father. He told me that he didn’t have room for me. I then found out that my mother and my little brother and sister had moved in with my grandmother. So, I called her and asked if I could come too. She replied the same as my father…no room for me.
So, I went to stay with another family. The best people I had ever met. They saved me from the streets and showed me what a family truly looks like. I appreciate that to this very day.
Later, when I was 23, I had my son. I did everything right by him my whole pregnancy. No drugs, no alcohol, and ate like a pig. But, he ended up with a congenital heart deformation that not only threatened his very existence, but also required numerous surgeries to ensure the longest life possible. Fortunately, he has surpassed his life expectancy and it hasn’t been easy. Everyday, I wake up wondering if my son is still alive because he is high risk for sudden death. And, believe it or not, disability refuses to grant him disability. Another post I created for the Social Security office explains the complex condition of having use of only one side of his heart.
I did later have twins, that were 10 weeks premature. They are doing great, thank the Lord. Every battle from then on has left me wondering if I shouldn’t have been born at all.
I’ve been diagnosed with major depression, ptsd, bipolar, and ocd. I wonder why.
I was told to journal, and I have for years. But, as I read back on them, I see page after page of suicidal letters. I have battled with the thought of killing myself for over 30 years now and have no idea why I’m still here, after praying for my death over and over again.
Everyone says each of us has a purpose, what could mine actually be? I may never know. All I know, is that I refuse to cause my family at pain. I might not be the best wife nor mother, but I damn well try.
I used to think of myself as the anchor holding them back, but now I see myself as the hole in the boat. They need to swim away or sink with me. An awful feeling that is.
I’ve disconnected my blog from my Facebook because I catch so much hell for the way I think and feel. And, it’s not like I have many followers here on WordPress. So, I can put it all out there and I don’t have to worry about people writing me about how much they “care”.
Well, that’s it for now. I bid you all a good day!