Hey guys. I decided I’d start writing a journal to help me work my way through the ramblings of my mind. I warn those who are reading, it won’t be always be fun, and keep an eye out on the first few sentences of each entry. There may be a trigger warning there. Also, don’t expect this to be in any chronological order. I get easily confused and tend forget things. If you’re confused, just let me know. I’ll try to answer your questions. Anyway, that’s enough of a prelude for now.
The issues I face didn’t truly smack me upside the head until about two months ago. I got fed up with never being to get anything done and decided to try to tackle my emotional issues by the horns. So I set up an appointment with a psychiatrist. I had already been going to a psychologist, but it wasn’t enough. Anyway, I met with the psychiatrist. He asked a lot of very uncomfortable questions about my daily habits and if I had a history of sexual abuse (The answer yes, but that’s for a later day). At the end of the appointment, he looked at me and said, “Well, you’re right that you’re depressed, but there are two other things you’re missing. You’ve also got bipolar disorder, and anxiety.”
At that point, I just wanted to face palm. I mean seriously? So now I get to add depression, bipolar, and anxiety to ADHD. Yay! I don’t want to use the illnesses as excuses, I’m just irritated that it’s more stuff I have to deal with.
I wish I could say that I was born like this, baby, but my history has certainty colored my present. I wasn’t the best child ever. In fact, I could be a bit of a holy terror. I lied, I cheated, I stole, and could be a manipulative little asshole. People say it’s okay, because all kids act like tha, but I still blame myself for it. Anyway, my parents tried their best to keep up. Just so you know, I call my father and my stepmom my parents. My mom will be a part of this, but that’s for a later time. My dad worked a lot. He was the only one who worked in the household. It was never really a problem though because he brought in more than enough income for the three of us. We were practically living downtown for goodness sakes. I missed him a lot because he was never home, and he never did hold up his end of the bargain when he’d say that we would spend time together. That meant that Stepmom was the one who was left to raise me. She never did want kids, but she certainty gave raising me her all. Unfortunately, it may have been too much.
As I grew up, my deceptions got worse and worse. Stepmom went to greater and greater lengths to try to get me to stop. For a while, I had to do a hundred push-ups a day. If I didn’t lie, I got to do one less push-up than the day before. If I lied, the counter would reset and I would be back at one hundred push-ups. When she decided that that didn’t work, I had to write papers about why I had lied. They even tried spanking me. Grounding never really worked because I didn’t have any friends to begin with and I could entertain myself in my own head for hours daydreaming about anything under the sun. Perhaps I would’ve tried harder if there hadn’t been so many times that I had been accused of being dishonest when I was actually telling the truth. To this day, there are still things they think I have lied about, when there never were.
I think I’ve probably bored you enough about this for now. Leave any comments you’d like. If you want to expand on something, let me know. It’s a little hard to write cohesively about so much stuff.