Raindrops And Warm Hugs » maydays

trauma for me

[31 July, 2023; 20:53] 

I'm so close to giving up again. 

I am here to talk about a few personal things, so I hope you don't mind me venting out here. 

I remember the day I realized that I don't wish to become an adult. I was about four years old, and my parents, my sister, and I used to live with my grandparents and uncle and aunt. Huge fights were common at our place, including physical abuse and verbal insults I didn't quite understand. I remember my sister and I in our room, me trying to shush her as she cried because of the yells from the living room. I remember my dad pushing my mom into our room and locking her with us because he didn't want her to be a part of the argument. I remember as she cried with a busted lip and sang us a lullaby. I remember hearing a knock on my door and rushing to open it. And I remember seeing my dad getting arrested, yet smiling at me to not let me get scared of the scenario. That day, I realized that I was good enough being a kid. 

But then again, I hadn't even turned 4 when my sister was born, and I was told that I was a "big girl" now. Seeing the commotion at my house every day was enough to make me detest the idea of being "big", which was the reason I hated my sister for about 8 years. 

Time passed, we moved away, but the abuse never stopped. And the fact that 90% of my childhood that I remember is just trauma does say something. I was never a child.

I began picturing my future as I grew older -- maybe around 12 years of age -- that I would become a doctor/scientist and build a big house, where there would be enough servants to let my mom rest and not even move a hand, where there would be enough money for my dad to let him focus on things he was passionate about, where I would be rich enough to buy my sister all kinds of jewelry and books and what not. I was so certain that the future I saw would come true. 

It's been a while since I've pictured myself having a future. Maybe 6-7 years since my future has remained bleak. 

Not because I stopped aiming to be a doctor -- no, because my parents have always been my biggest abusers. 

It's a strong, very strong statement to make, I understand, but if I had to give an example, I would say this; recently, I got an interview for content writing, and I asked my friend what would be asked. They said that the interviewer would definitely ask, "Why do you think you're suitable for this job?" And I passed up that opportunity because I don't have a single good thing to say about myself. 

The reflection of myself that I see in my mirror isn't mine; it's just a recollection of all the vile things that my parents fed into my mind: "You are not good at anything" "You're utterly useless" "Yeah, you can write, but what about your marks in mathematics?" "You look so damn fat and ugly, your face is structureless at this point" "I talked good things about you with my friends, am I not a good enough mother?" "I wanted to be proud of you" 

This stuff is so deep-rooted in my soul that I haven't been able to wash it off in years. Probably never will. 

No, mother, you failed at being a perfect mother to me by "caring" so much for my math marks that you put a password on my laptop when that was the only medium of writing and reading that I had. You stole my sole happiness from me when I was beginning to drown in a sea of depression and writing was the only thing that made me breathe. No, father, you failed at being a "protective" parent by disregarding my words when I  told you exactly two years before getting diagnosed with depression, that I "fear I might have bipolar disorder and I'm feeling bad about it". You made me feel like a fool for trusting you with my feelings and fears when I was barely 14 years of age. You two have been horrendous to me to the level that I cannot unveil all the things you've done to me to an audience that might read this. You two failed. 

Yet, neither of you realizes how wrong you've been. 

I remember on the night of my first suicide attempt you took me to a pizzeria and tried to talk me out of depression (yes, so easy, am i right?), and i saw an infant looking at me from the seat on my right. I remember making funny faces at her and seeing her smile, but that was when I realized that I never really had a childhood. My puerility was ripped from my grasp upon seeing everyone abuse each other, and hit each other, and almost hurt my 2 year old self with accidentally broken glass shards. I forgive you for all the accidents that you've done to me, but I don't think that waking me up from my sleep to yell at me for not being good enough at school and getting lower marks than my friend group is an accident, now is it? 

Maybe this is why I cling to people, who I feel safe with, so dearly? As if I'd die if they let me go? Is this why I'm obsessed with a few sets of people? Is this why I cling to tightly onto my delusions of Bang Chan? Because, in my head, he's always treating me right -- without even knowing that he's doing it. 

This might not carry the gravity of emotions swirling inside me, and how they have been storming inside me for years. Heck, I was like 13 years old when I lost my trust in people who were supposed to nurture me. If it wasn't for my sister, then my attempts at killing myself would've been much, much brutal, perhaps to the point of no return. If someone is keeping me at home, it's my sister. I love and appreciate the only family I have, and it's her. 

I was thinking that I, after all my parents have done to me, still care about them, but she made me realize that I'm looking out for them out of guilt. Guilt that they'd feel bad for doing all this to me. Guilt that, if I ever tell them all this, they would love their peace of mind. Guilt that they would blame themselves for sending me into a wave of depression that I have long drowned in. 

I genuinely wish the best for them. I know that the moment I'm earning some money, I'm getting out of this hellhole, getting my parents therapy, and once they're alright, I'm done with them. Thank you for feeding me every day. Thank you for giving me shelter. Thank you for buying me things that I liked. And thank you for stealing my mental peace forever. 

I am crying so, so damn hard as I write this. I am literally wailing, and I'm glad I shut the door while writing this, or I would've been bombarded with questions from everyone. 

The worst part is that I know that they didn't do this on purpose. Were they just not fit for parenting at the moment when I was born? Or am I just too difficult to love? I don't know, but I sure remember regretting being alive every single day. 

All I know is that I'll never be worthy of being loved, because the insecurities that have been coded into my system might never exit me. 

There's a lot I could've said, but I am going to rest. I do hope that I don't wake up tomorrow, though.