My father has always been emotionally distant. Never there when I was a kid. All he wanted from my mom was a son. It was never me. And when my brother was finally born, he was diagnosed with a variety of disorders. Then my dad became distant again.. my mom had to leave her job to take care of us full time at home, most often then not leaving me alone.
I can't remember a time when I wasn't alone. I was playing dolls in my room, radio on low, talking to myself. It was always "im busy" or "you're old enough to play by yourself now." My only friend was my next door neighbor, and eventually we grew apart because our interests were wildly different.
As I got older I realized that I'll never be in the "spotlight" ever again. I had to let all of my toys be destroyed, I had to let my brother hit me and bite me, I had to "take the high road" when he talked mouth or hit me. I couldn't fight back, and my parents just ignored me for 5 years as they doted on my little brother.
The love I was supposed to be receiving was replaced by material items. Clothes, sports, dolls... it was all meaningless to me. I hid in my room to read books, so I could escape reality.
I was forced to memorize dictionaries, enter spelling bees, get medals, straight A's, always told that I could do better, and that I can do better than this. Getting in trouble for drawing in class or being too loud.
At 10, I had pretty much experienced how the real world was and how the world was going to treat me. My first experience of death, my cat, Scooter, was blamed on me. My parents told me I didn't take care of him, even though I offered to help clean the cat litter, my mom always told me I was too young. I loved my cat with my whole heart. While I was at school my mom took him to the vet and put him down. I came home to ask where he was. I spent 10 minutes looking for him, only for my mom to tell me she had buried him already. I was angry and sad that she had done that and didn't even let me say goodbye. How could she? And yet again, they didn't comfort me. They replaced his absence with more material items. I cried for months, and for months I slept in my moms bed, because he wasn't there anymore to lay with me. Eventually she told me that I needed to get over it because I'm getting too old to do this. I just wanted to be comforted and told that it was going to be okay but it never happened.
I just remember laying in my bed at around 8 or 9 years old crying my eyes out. Wanting to run away and be with a happy family. A normal family.
As the oldest child, I was put on a pedestal. I was the role model for my little brother. I had to be mature, behaved, academically perfect, submissive. I wanted to grow up as fast as possible so I could be respected and treated like a worthy member of the family. I tried too hard. I got burnt out. I didn't want to try anymore.
Beginning of 6th grade, I was determined to be different. I couldn't just be a failure to my family. They were counting on me to have good grades, and to be a good girl. Severe anxiety developed to the point where I pretended to be sick so I couldn't go to school. I realized after that incident that I was a good liar. I realize now that my parents turned me into one.
The depression set in around 7th grade and my grades flopped. I didn't care anymore. My parents treated me like an object. I had to work at home to be fed, clothed, and to get daily necessities. I was shamed to think that asking others for things is wrong and to this day im still scared to spend other people's money, even if they encourage me to. My parents messed me up so bad.
Around 8th I tried pulling myself together. I found stability in drawing and I kept at it for a long time. I spent every minute I could spare drawing and improving. The severe anxiety and depression was overlooked my my mother. She said I had nothing to be sad about. Ha. Every single day I wore a sweatshirt to school. I was afraid to wear new things that were considered trendy because I didn't want to be made fun of. I stuck to being in the shadows, where nobody noticed me. And nobody did.
Freshmen year. Honestly, it was such a blur. I tried to commit suicide twice. Only to awake after, disappointed and go to school and act like nothing happened. To be honest, I cried more at school than at home. Its almost funny. Plastering that fake smile at school and at home was so tiring. I always thought if people saw the real me and what I was really thinking, they wouldn't want to be around me. People would be scared. And honestly I don't even know who I am anymore. The only time I can be myself is when I'm alone.
My mom and dad messed with me so badly. I'm in the process of healing myself, but until I can get away from my house I will never be free.