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lexisree · 7 years

Text

My Shit Life

Or: I really should see a therapist but I can't so I'm going to let all of my issues out in the air

WARNING: Possible Triggers (?); Probably very TMI and personal; maybe second-hand embarrassment; depression and anxiety are very real and honestly exposed in this; honest & brutal fears

IF ANY OF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE PLEASE USE DISCRETION WHEN READING OR DON'T READ IT AT ALL

Thanks for reading, I hope it helps you maybe or just brings a stronger sense of understanding about something.

I’M REALLY ANXIOUS ABOUT POSINT THIS BUT I REALLY THINK I NEED TO BECUASE I NEED HELP AND HONESTY AND THIS IS JUST THE FIRST STEP - for me anyway

Okay so recently, I've had a bit of a, uh, coming out thing (ish) to my family - more specifically my dad and step-sister, seeing as my mom already knows I'm at least bisexual. Although, it's ... more than that.

Like, there's some background that would make it easier to understand things eventually and I ... really need to get things off my chest. I mean, before you really get too invested or I start anything in regards to letting stuff out, you should know that my ... mental heath is really not at it's best at the moment (hasn't been for a very long time, I don't think) and it's not that I have any kind of doctor notice or anything to know that.

But I really need therapy, I know I do. I need someone to help and honestly just listen and fix things but I just ... I can't yet. I just can't.

But I do have a very intelligent friend taking psychology courses (I also know how to research and look things up and think for myself) that I ... probably rely on far too much to be healthy, but she's trying to help me, but it ... just doesn't work that way, I know she's not certified and she's not objective and unbiased and it's just so hard to talk to people that aren't.

That's why I'm doing this. This is my first step I think, to actually getting my shit together and getting therapy and honest help, so ... jeez, yeah. I'm gonna fucking try to do this even though my brain is saying

no, no, no, no, STOP THIS DON'T, these people are going to judge you, they're going to look at this and see a sob story, they're going to think you want fucking attention that you don't actually have problems that you're a DISGRACE!

But I won't fucking let myself stop, I'll fucking do this and I'm gonna do it and fuck, I'm getting off topic again and I need to stop procrastinating.

Anyway, knowing the background is important for you to understand why everything is so confusing; just why I'm terrified and angry and also a little bit relieved and overwhelmed to know that I'm just so different. I am not, and probably never will be, cis. I don't feel comfortable in my own skin a lot of the time, I feel very gross and almost like an imposter some days - but others I don't. Some days I'm very confident and strong in the knowledge that I'm biologically a female.

I'm also sometimes attracted to men, other days to women, and often enough, nonbinary as well - so you would think I'd be pansexual right? But that doesn't feel right either. I don't fit into any kind of mould because sometimes I don't even fell attracted to anyone - that can go on for days or weeks, and even months.

And it's terrifying.

Why is it terrifying? Well, read my 'backstory' first, because it will give a lot of context that would make more sense than just "lowkey control issues and apathetic tendencies."

So like, I grew up in a very religious home (until I'd hit my teens that is - everything went to shit thereafter) and both my mom and my dad were very conservative - like most of the family - and I was just always told I was going to be a certain way, live a certain life, and held to certain expectations and I never really got around to not believing it (even if it was a subconscious kind of thing).

Growing up, I was almost always dressed in "boy's" hand-me-downs, which I never had a problem with, it was always comfortable and genuinely what I liked. But then elementary and middle school came and both my parents and my sister (who at this point I don't even really talk much to anymore - and she's one of the 3 blood-relatives I even associate with) have started to kinda just ignore that I exist.

My sister ... went through a lot of shit during that time, and honestly, it felt like I was just left to flounder through everything on my own because I wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. I made A's and B's in school, I was in Art Club and Drama during elementary and Art Club and Band during middle school, and just Band during my first year of High School.

I had like, a few acquaintances that I was stubbornly insisting were friends (they really weren't) and just overall feeling very, very alone. I didn't really know at the time that I was depressed, didn't know that I was developing bad habits and honestly probably should have asked for help at that time (especially since I was around someone going through what I could have been - what I probably would have turned into if I wasn't stubborn as fuck).

It was also just around that time - right between ages 12 and 14 - that I started to realize that I ... didn't really like people. Not in the way all the kids around me seemed to anyway. I didn't seem to think people were attractive in any way other than aesthetically. Like, I'd be able to say that someone was pretty or handsome or objectively appealing ... but that was it. It was all objective and felt very detached. And I hated that.

At the time I'd not really yet learned how to just ... ignore everyone else (as I'd only developed my very frightening apathetic mask until after I'd turned 14). I felt very confused and alone and constantly paranoid because what if someone found out, what if my parents figure it out, what would my sister do - I don't want to be like that.

I was always scared and constantly stressed and I'd soon developed the ... worst of my habits. I started to bottle things - rarely letting them out, and, like, the only way I could - or really, would - let them out, was through the arts.

I picked up poetry (and honestly, I think this was the closest to an 'emo phase' I've ever been in, but it was just ... so much more than that) right around that time as well, and it wasn't until during my 8th grade school year that I finally started to think that maybe I was depressed.

At the time I was still 12 (it was the beginning of the school year - August/September - and my BDay is in November) and my grandmother (Memaw - she was my (step)dad's mom btw) had just passed away ... and she was literally the only person in my family at the time that paid attention to me. She was the only one that listened and helped and just seemed to care.

When she passed away, I was ... I was very lost, I don't deny it.

I also started to fully develop my anxiety during that time (not that I knew what the fuck any of this shit was) and I was ... I was very confused and scared and honestly just really lost during that time.

But then I'd started marching band (I played the flute) and felt like I had a reason and started making friends - actual friends - but come the end of my freshman year my family (that is, me, my mom, my dad, and my sister) all ended up moving half-way across the country because my dad's son (so my step-brother with literally no blood relation to me at all) had kidney failure and my dad was a possible donor.

Three years after the move (and a lot of anxiety and depression and fear on my part) the surgery finally happened. And while I was very glad and relieved for everything working out, I was so far gone in my anxiety by this point that I ... that I couldn't even .. I coudn't fucking muster up the will and strength to visit their fucking hospital room I coudn't fucking - I couldn't curb the anxiety enough to visit my dad - one of the most important people in my life - in his hospital room after he'd selflessly given up his kidney (and there was no hesitation at all and dad is just such a good man) and was in surgery for hours.

And I felt like the scum of the earth.

I can't - I can't tell you how much I hated myself for that. I hated that I just - I couldn't fucking get my shit together and go see my dad as he laid prone on a hospital bed after doing one of the most amazing, selfless, wonderful things ever.

I ... I can't even. I cried, and still do (read: as I write this) when I think about it because - because he, he doesn't blame me for it. He doesn't hold it against me and sometimes I think that he should. He should feel sad or angry or something!

It was really around that time that I decided that - that this was a problem.

My dad - who'd taken care of me for no reason other than he cared and stayed with my mom even tho their marriage was long over by the time I could really understand. My dad - who doesn't even have any blood relation to me, and yet still cares and lets me stay with him on the weekends, and is always there even after he and my mom split.

My dad, who I didn't even know wasn't my "father" until after I'd turned 7, never once made me feel inferior for who I was born to, what I felt, how I handled things ... the man that means so much to me.

And yet I feel a constant irrational need to meet his expectations (even tho I know all he wants is to see me be successful and happy) and constant irrational fear that he won't want to be my dad anymore once he - once - fuck

once he realizes I'm fucked up and scared and wrong

And like, I know it's irrational and stupid and dumb because he isn't like that - I KNOW THAT - but like my anxiety and fears won't let me believe it. And that's why I have such a hard time coming to terms with who I am.

Becuase I can't even muster up the courage to face my dad and say 'I need therapy' or 'hey, dad .. I'm queer' or even just 'dad .. I think I need some help.' because I don't want to let him down and it's just so overwhelming sometimes.

But then there's also the issue with my mom. I love my mom, don't get me wrong - I really do. I love her very much, but ... but I don't really - .. like her sometimes. I don't like that she has a double standard set for me and my sibling(s) - that she expects me to be someone I'm not. How she assumes I'm okay and honestly just have a small case of depression and/or anxiety and that can be fixed.

I don't like that, now that my sister has moved out (my biological sister that is) my mom has decided to hinder me from becoming someone - getting my life together, getting a degree, making progress ... all in a selfish attempt to 'keep her chicks in the next.' or something

I have serious issues - more than just depression and anxiety and fear. I don't have any idea of my sexual identity, my biological identity (because I know I'm not cis, and the only thing that I can put it in is 'fluid' but it's not really that either) - I don't know a lot of things about myself and it's terrifying.

But I want to fix it. I want - need - the help.

I'm just at that point in my life where everything is shit, I have no idea what to do or how to do it and there's honestly there's just so much I could do, so much I have to do ... and it's daunting and scary and honestly just so stressful and probably going to give me heart failure but I want to get better.

And if there's one thing I've learned, is that you can't help someone if they don't want to be helped and that goes both ways. You can't get help unless you admit you need it and seek it out.

I just hope that what (admittedly heavy but still little) I've shared of my fears and needs and honest issues actually goes into helping you out, because I've learned that you can glean just about anything from someone else's story that may just help you.

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