kid and do not share the same responsibilities as adults do, your suffering is not valid.
obviously thats bullshit and the weight of someones struggles is relative and personal -- what might seem easy to deal with for one person might be the most difficult process for someone else. and to make fun of a kid for not yet having the skills to solve problems out of their league and denying them help is seriously cruel. the only way i was able to get the adults in my life to believe i wasnt just being dramatic was by turning 18, living on my own without financial help from my parents, getting a job, and taking myself to a psychiatrist. i know where my parents are coming from because in their generation, dealing with mental health was very taboo. but it saddens me that i had to go to so many extreme measures throughout the years just to be seen.
even now, im still not taken 100 percent seriously. i told my mom that i was diagnosed with bpd and her first reaction was to compare me to
amber heard, asking me if i was just faking my symptoms so the psychiatrist could be manipulated to believe i had bpd. ive admitted to
my dad multiple times through choked up words and endless tears that ive wanted to kill myself and he always shuts me down, saying everyone goes through the same pressure and i just have to learn how to deal with it, which shouldnt be a huge problem since i ''have it easier than everyone else.'' thankfully my mom is starting to be a little kinder to me, going out of her way to ask me how
im feeling on certain days and providing me comfort and advice on how to cheer myself up. this has never happened in my life prior to this month. no comment on what my dad is doing to help me emotionally because theres basically nothing.
what im trying to say is obviously i might overreact sometimes, its just in my nature. but there is always another side of the same coin. this past month has been the lowest point of my life, but im grateful one good thing that came out of it is having a better relationship with my mom.
this exact time last year, my mom had pushed me beyond my limits that i had run away from home to stay at friends houses, the streets, then finally my dads apartment. i lived away from her with no contact for a month, only coming back home to celebrate thanksgiving which wasnt even pleasant either. i resented her strongly and promised myself that after i moved to long beach i would never come back. but obviously life has its ways of twisting your plans in opposite directions, and now i actually feel a little homesick sometimes, which has NEVER happened to me. to be away from my mom has
always felt like a vacation, but now im in such a weak
emotional state that being close to my mom is my only
guaranteed source of comfort. being held in her arms, laughing together at jokes, cooking and baking together, and ranting about other family members we were fed up with is something i dearly miss.
i know my friends
