Okay, here's my life story.
See, my mother has always been inconsistent. And she's had low self-confidence (at least from what I can tell, because in my baby book she mentioned I was angry at her once, and anyone with sense knows that a baby doesn't get angry at anyone). My father had consistancy and was able to make me behave and for that, I respect him and love him wholly, even when I think he's an idiot. My mother, however, was inconsistent. She'd say one thing and do another. Like her room would be a mess and my room would be a mess, and she'd tell me to go clean my room and clean it for me when I didn't. Even though her room still wasn't clean. And once she hit me (spanked if you prefer) with a ruler because I was "lying" to her (I was telling the truth) in that I supposedly didn't use soap in the bath.
We originally lived in Lincoln, Nebraska and moved to Rochester, New York when I was 5. I personally hated the move. We moved away from my family and my friends that I had made. And because of this, I regressed. I went back to wetting my pants. Which is understandable because for a little kid, that's a huge change and it can be traumatizing. I was still punished Anyways for wetting my pants. And this was only because my mother started showing signs of Multiple Sclerosis (where your nerves start to get weaker and don't do what they're supposed to do). So unfortunately, the spotlight is shined on her (and I fucking hate her goddamn guts for it) and I got ignored and neglected.
I couldn't play with the kids in the neighborhood because my mother was worried about being perceived as a bad mother or because we were better than them or because my mother didn't feel like socializing or because my mother thought I would wear out my welcome. Or some stupid bullshit like that. Before my mother wound up on disability from her MS, I was in a babysitter's that abused kids by hitting them. And then I got moved to a better babysitter. And after she got MS, she was asleep for about 2 years. too tired to deal with me. I remember that we used to play house where I was the mother and she was the kid it was great fun for me and those games were no more. About that time, I had told this consoler at school about my sexual fantasies (which fuscking freak me out to this day, because my own mother was freaked out about them, and I’m pretty sure she drilled in my head that this was a 'bad' thing to do). Because In my odd imaginary world, I had a dad that I could sleep with at nights (as I hated sleeping alone in my bed) and I had a brother named Steven who would put things in my underwear. I told this to my consoler, only they thought that it meant my parents were sexually abusing me. Yeah. So there's my main reason as to why I fear sex and why I’m so square with sex and why I’m occasionally too exhibitionist with sex. So I am literally afraid of having sex. I'd like to, but I'm scared to, and I don't know why.
To solve this problem (of the sexual abuse reports), I was switched to a private school. There, I got consistancy, I got rules, I learned to behave better and get along with people. I learned not to pick my nose (because I was a huge nose picker). I switched to there in 4th grade. By 8th grade, I had a seasonal depression thing, only my mother the school and I didn't realize it was depression at the time. The next year, I went to Nazareth Academy (all girls private catholic school). That was the best and the worst year of my life. I met one of my best friends, Nicole, there who introduced me to Toby. And I have good memories of that school when I hung out with Nicole and during Religion class (which is a shocker, as I'm not usually a huge fan of religion). That was the school where my depression showed up again. I'd cry for 80 mins in the nurse’s office and all the guidance consoler would tell me is "Take a deep breath and go back to class." (I actually have a scar of where I cut myself on the corner of my wrist with a nail whilst talking to this "expert" of a consoler). One time, I tried telling her I thought I was depressed and she told me that and I obeyed. But the next day, I walked out of the school, determined to go talk to my dad (who works about 4 to 5 miles away from the school). I walked for about an hour and a half and called him from a frontier building (as he works at frontier) and he eventually found me and took me home. We talked to the doctor and I got put on meds and put on a tutor for the rest of the school year.
See, we paid lots of money for Naz, however the teachers wouldn't really help me with how to do my homework. Like they wouldn't take it and check it over or anything like that. They'd take it and give you points for doing it, so I never got to know what mistakes I made or anything like that. Which was horrible for me, especially in math, and made me feel really stupid. I am in school now though ;). So I got put on Prozac. And I really hated the tutor. I just...didn't want her. I didn't want anything to do with school. So one night, I skipped out of the tutor by going roller bladding. My mother met me on one of the streets and was so pissed. She told me to get in the car and I refused and she sped off back to home, pissed off. Course, when I got there I freaked out. Apologized to the tutor for having her money wasted because I was stupid, stuff like that. And my mother was still pissed. And she grounded me and she's all "You won't have the internet you won't have the computer, all you'll be able to do is sit in your room staring at the wall." And I, of course, was all "Hell no." and turned on my computer and was going to play the Sims. Then she puts her hands on me and tries forcing me to go back to my room. I dig my nails into her, knowing she has MS and praying she won't be so strong. When that doesn't work, I start trying (unsuccessfully) to bite her. I go to my room, where I continue to freak out even more and she just sits there and laughs at me while I pour out my hatred of her, the school, and the tutor. Finally, she leaves and shuts the door and I *really* go psycho. I grab all the glass cups in my room and throw them at the wall, still ranting and raving about hatred of all the crap that was going on. I take one of the broken pieces of glass and cut up my arm. Granted, I usually went psycho once every 2 years back in those days. and the previous time I went psycho, my MD told my mother to call 911 if I did it again, and they would have to sedate me. So my mother calls the pediatrician, and they're all "Oh you should take her to the hospital." We go there, and we stay there all night, and get switched to another hospital at 3am. At this hospital, I'm in the suicidal wing (though I wasn't suicidal). And the psychiatrist comes in. "Yeah. You need to learn how to control your emotions, you need to listen to your parents, and your parents need to know where you are at all times." Is what she tells us. First off, If I knew how to control my emotions, why the fusck would I be in the psych ward?! And second off, I seldom went out of the house. Do to my raising, I am a complete homebody. So my parents usually do know where I am at all times. My mother had also told the hospital staff that I had tried to bite her for no apparent reason. Which soo served to piss me off. I have always hated how she could so easily lie about how something happened and how everyone believes her side automatically. So anyways. I stop taking meds after Prozac. And I go to see a therapist. Who helps me with my depression, however when she gets me one step forward, I talk to my mother about it, and my mother says that I remember everything wrong and blah blah blah and sets me two steps back.
So I mention to the therapist how I want to go back to Nebraska because I don't like my mother and the therapist says that perhaps I am right, and my mother should be moved out the of picture. So my therapist says that my mother should move to Nebraska for three months. I of course, do not believe that my mother will go because most everything she has promised before has been a lie. A puppy when I was 15, a trip to go see all the places that Laura Ingalls Wilder was when I was 14. Told that my security blanket (that I am now positive she threw out) never was able to dry when I was 7, told the same security blanket got too small and denigrated when I was 15. So just to spite me and prove she will go, she goes. Without saying goodbye to me on the day she left, so its like "Okay This is something new to deal with" as I'm not used to being home alone all day. At least, at that time, I wasn't.
So September rolls around, and I enroll in high school, determined to quit school (I haven't). So in school, I get suspended a bunch of times for being insubordinate and only once for going psycho. And I mostly got suspended for skipping a bunch of classes. So they switched me over to a special education school, where everyone's fuscked up like me, LOL. But before I got switched over to there, I was only going to like...either 2 or 1 classes regularly. Because I was freaking terrified of failing, so I really didn't want to go to a class where I knew nothing. And at Boces (Special education school where everyone's screwed up, in consoling and on meds, where I currently go to), I still don't go to any classes. However, the first time I got suspended for Boces, I threw a frog and cursed out the vice-principal. Let's see here now...what was the second suspension? I think that was for not going to class and being insubordinate. I got multiple suspensions, and I can't remember most of them now, but usually they were *BIG* scenes. The fourth time I got suspended was because I was crying. Actually, it was because I was blocking a door, crying and didn't want to talk to anyone. Apparently the school is in charge of me after hours which like makes so much sense. Because being 16, I have no fucking clue how to use the phone to call my father and ask for a ride home. So yeah. I refused to go home and didn't immediately call my father when I said I would. and during this time, I was going through medications. Zoloft which worked until we messed around with it, then celexa. And finally I landed on Effexor. Which actually *GASP* worked. By the end of the school year (when I started taking effexor), I actually *wanted* to do work. I wanted to go to classes. Of course...I couldn't because classes were kind of over, but....yeah. I also got oh god..what's it called? Oh! Respritol added (it's a mood stabilizer).
Now, back to the thing with my mother. In November, she and my father talked about her coming back. And my father told her that he didn't want her to come back until after the school year had played out. My mother took this to mean that he never wanted her to come back and filed for legal separation in Nebraska. In Nebraska, Legal separation is the same thing as divorce. Split up the property, figure out where the child goes, ect. So, at first, dad shipped stuff to her, but then he stopped and just kept it as his lawyer advised him not to ship everything. Nebraska didn't give anyone custody over me They said they had no jurisdiction over me because I lived in New York. At the time, my mother hated me just as much as I hated her, and so she defiantly didn't want me (and this made me ecstatic ) so dad wound up with me, and is currently my legal guardian. If my mother (who now likes me, I think :/) wants custody of me, she has to go to the New York courts for it. And that costs more money than she has, so we're sure she won't. By last summer, I matured a bit, and realized that I better not get my ass kicked out of school because it's the slowest way to grow up. If I drop out, I have to get a job, as dad won't support me when I'm out of school. My father and I traveled to Nebraska to visit my relatives and he gave some things to my mother that belonged to her, that he didn't feel like having to pay money to ship.
Then came September, where I actually went to school and for the most part, behaved myself. I had one incident where I went psycho on the bus this year and wound up calling my dad to go home. I was depressed all of November because I had tried pot November 1st at a Halloween party. so since then, I've kind of decided that drugs are probably not my thing. So far I've only gotten suspended once or twice this year and I didn't go completely psycho in doing so as the school has learned how to handle me better. So there is my life story.
My dad is nicer than my mom. He doesn't get his emotions in the way of my freaking out, so I don't go psycho on him. Our lives are much more calm now that mom's not in the house. He doesn't have to go running out last minute for medication as he keeps track of it and yeah (which at times makes me feel bad that he would run out last minute for her and not for me).
I also have little respect for my mother because she's stupid, LOL. Especially when it comes to computers. Like she'll ask me for help and then get pissy because i'm moving to fast or something. Oh she'd hold things over my head. "Do this for me because I do all this nice stuff for you. If you don't do this, you won't get ice cream later on." that kind of thing. Guilt trips. It's because of guilt trips that I have low confidence, I think. because I'll do something, then think I’m right, and then be told that I'm not. Which is a huge reason why I’m so indecisive and argue both sides of an argument. I either got it from her, she taught it to me, I learned it from her or I just inherited it as a trait. It doesn't matter. I have problems because she had problems. And now they're all my problems.
I see a therapist once a week, though I don't usually talk to her about my problems, because...well, with the meds, what do I have to complain about? :/ The only thing that really irks me loads is my mother. And it really hurts all the things that she's done and said.
Oh and get this! She probably still thinks she's a great mom. Like yeah...you're a great mother when your daughter won't have anything to do with you because of how poorly you treated her.
I tried telling her once that she was a horrible mother and she wouldn't hear of it. Said she was a great mother. Like honey, if you're such a great mother, then why doesn't your own daughter want to have nothing to do with you? And why does your own daughter despise you and look down on you? And Honey? Being called a good mother does not come from your opinion. It comes from your child's opinion, and your husband's opinion.
When my mother wanted to come back, she was all "Oh, Heidi will have to do this, and Heidi will have to do that, ect." No. If she were truly a mother, she would realize that this approach would only serve to piss me off and make me start to go right for her throat again. And then she was wondering why we argued alot? :crazy:
I am very bitter over my childhood. And at times, I don't really like my dad either. But I respect and love him more because he put more energy into making me respect him and into getting me stability, so even when I don't like him, I still love him way more than I do my mother.
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