Hey guys. This is my first post, I’m sorry if I ramble. Ingrained in me is the compliance of family requests, I try to break the chain, but it’s difficult. I am scared that if do not disown my family immediately, I will either kill myself, or die from high blood pressure – the symptoms of which are battering me mentally and physically on a daily basis. My self esteem is at an all time low, and I’m frequently referring to myself as “worthless” every day now. I need professional help but I’m scared that it would be me caving in to the trauma my family has caused me. I wish I could champion it myself, as they have always doubted me for as long as I remember. Should I refer to my family members by name, please note I have used fake names. Regardless of what I think of them, it’s wrong to put anyone’s name on any forum without their prior permission. They make me feel like a loser. I’ve two brothers. One (John) with aspurgers that’s never been treated, and the other (Martin) used to be beaten regularly by my mother. – Now that we’re all grown up and in our twenties, the damage has taken its toll. Martin acts as if the abuse and trauma he suffered was trivial, and that the trauma me and John suffered is also trivial. – He pretends like there’s no need for psychological repair, despite being buried heavily in debt. I moved in with him about a year ago and witnessed just how bad his debts were. When I tried to help, he found his “masculinity” insulted, devoted the six months of living with me and my girlfriend to putting us both down and demeaning us, then smashing an armful of broken glass in my face. Growing up I had no father, and my mother was an escort and the victim of domestic abuse. However, She has told so many lies, or dismissed so many critical facts about our family that I no longer know if my father’s domestic violence is as “evil” as it appears. – For instance, a close friend of my mother’s molested the daughter from my father’s previous relationship. To which my mum says it “wasn’t that bad” – but she knew about it, the guy was convicted and jailed for child molestation. – I had to find that out through my grandparents and other family members. For all I know my father’s attitude could have worse due to this. You never know. I understand that escorting is a HIGHLY stigmatised job, and I honestly have NOTHING against any form of sex-working, in fact, I believe them to be a good thing... ...unless you’re just charmed by the idea of easy money. That’s when the problems truly occur. So I couldn’t really be told the truth growing up about THAT, but it doesn’t excuse everything else. 7 years old and sneaking about in my mum’s room looking for Christmas presents I find a giant dildo and strap on!! OO!! – Lol, I’ve no quarrel if you laugh, I see the funny side, but of course, there’s a more serious side I have to consider. We could have been fine with an explanation, but the tyranny of her personality made her unapproachable. We were toys, soldiers, held in a very cold and frightening environment. She would stomp about upstairs, slamming doors when she was in a mood, she would scream a gargled and haunting tone when she was stressed, she referred to us as “little bastards” and even “little shits”. Perhaps there is a lighter environment one can picture where that isn’t so bad, I mean, mums and dads are only human, and they all can lose it from time to time. – But when your life is heavily sheltered (we weren’t allowed out by ourselves) , a mum behaving like that can make you feel like the world is about to end with every random bang or bump that they sound as they stomp about in the floor above you like... I dunno, some sort of monster marauding for flesh. I STILL jump out of my skin when I hear a banging sound. – I’ve lived hundreds of miles away from my hometown, and I live on my own now in my hometown – no difference. I hear a bang maybe caused by the wind slamming a door, or by a neighbour or something, and my instinctive reaction is that my mum is coming downstairs to yell at us, and give us that feeling that world is going to end. For the majority of our childhood we were unattended to. – So when we had fights (as kids do) there was no one there, and it often got out of hand. So sibling rivalry rocketed to a highly unhealthy degree, and it still does. I used the word “soldiers”, but I often jokily refer to it as “minion’s syndrome”. Whenever my mum would lose something (traditionally an earring or some jewellery of some sort), she would bark out “WHERE’S MY (whatever’s missing)? – FIND IT, FIND IT YOU LITTLE SHITS!” and like the little flying monsters from the Wizard of Oz, we’d scatter around the house, ear’s to the ground for our eyes to scan the floor. I mean, awesome! – At least I’m good at finding things, right? – Unfortunately, when my partner’s lost something just momentarily, and she is merely looking around for it lightly, I’ll hop to my feet and start assaulting our home trying to find what she’s looking for. – She is aware of my issues, and often has to tell me at least 10 times to get me to stop looking, and even then I can’t sit comfortably until it’s found. Although in recent years I’ve gotten better with this one, but I have difficulty sitting in rooms with open doors. There are so many reasons for this. Firstly, if I can shut a door myself, I know I can shut it without slamming it. But also I feel safer with the doors shut, in my mind it converts the room into a sanctuary. – Additionally, when I was growing up, this may sound odd, but if I could hear the beast stomping towards me somewhere in the house, I felt like a closed door could at least by me a fraction of extra time to prepare myself. I know it’s not easy having children, but if you don’t want them, don’t have them! My mother has always constantly told lies to people about our upbringing. She always said she wanted us to be like “little house on the prairie”. and she tells people anecdotes about how light, beautiful and pretty our upbringing was – even sometimes when I’m right there in the room! – I had to sit there one birthday and listen to her tell my girlfriend all of they lovely-lovely-lovely stories about how “charming”, “quaint” and “whimsical” our upbringing was, and I had to bite my tongue through the entire time. – Eventually I had to break the news to my girlfriend. Believe it or not, in later years, I’ve made myself fairly popular with people. I make them laugh, I enjoy championing the strange, the sexy, death, and other things with comedy. I am an experienced write of over 15 years, utilizing what I hid in as a child. – however, nowadays, it’s all fallen apart. My “serious side” is too riddled with psychological conflicts to engage people with without mentioning my upbringing. In a sense, if I’m a serious mood, I’m a real stick in the mud. If I’m in a good mood, I’m the life of the party. I had to diffuse arguments in the house I grew up in, and I use that too to make amends between friends, but I fall so terribly if my friends fall out with one another. I blame myself, and additionally I have actually also been blamed by friends for not holding people together at times. I feel like I’ve been taken advantage of quite often. I could talk with anyone from dawn til dusk if there’s something bothering them, because I hate people suffering. The depression is causing hideous damage to my health. “Substance abuse” may be a harsh thing to refer to fizzy drinks with, but when you’ve been drinking a litre to a litre and a half every day of your life since you were about 11, it does tend to surface as a critical problem. The fizzy drinks not only reminded me of the “normal life” that I saw a scent of when I visited my grandmother, as I usually had a glass there and loved it! – coupled with her wonderful hospitality, humour, and general outlook on life. – Accidents would happen and she would laugh about it. I recall her fine-China cabinet falling over – we all feared HELL was about to be unleashed from her... instead she just lightly chuckled with a sort of “oh well, these things happen” sort of attitude. Also, the caffeinated drinks or energy drinks feel like the only thing that keeps my depression from exposing my tiredness and stress. – Additionally I am a heavy, heavy, heavy, HEAVY smoker. So it’s ridiculous supplies of sugar coupled with all the nastiness that smoking brings you. – I don’t see anything wrong with either, but the DEGREE to which I have both... is something hideously unhealthy, not to mention the stress of all of this added together. I was let out on my own when I was about 12, my brother Martin was about 14-15, and my oldest brother John was 18, and lord did that take its toll. – I think I went mad with freedom if I’m completely honest. It’s been escapism after escapism, and now I have to face it all, I don’t know if I can cope. Every time my family says “are you still smoking?” i have to say “yes”, the whole time I have to hold the fire inside me back, because for however much this sounds like the blame-game, I feel so much torture and torment that I feel entitled to blame them, or blame my mother at least. But my brothers never see eye to eye with me on this, even though my oldest brother Martin properly goes to a “dark place” when you talk about childhood. He grits his teeth, his face shakes and tears fall from his eyes – but the obligation of family is still so engrained in him that he’ll go back to them, and get angered again and again and again. – He’s one of the nicest fellers you’ll ever meet, but everyone takes advantage of him and never gives anything back. Right now this is all interfering with my work, my writing and artwork that I need to get on with. But some days I’m so sad that I go back to bed mere hours after waking up. – My girlfriend has to stop me gouging my eye out in my sleep at least 4 times a night. I rub my eye, I stretch it and wake up with bags on that particular eye 4-5 times bigger than my other eye. She tells me I look “tortured” in my sleep. This is just 1 example of the hundreds of things that my girlfriend’s done for me, it’s hard to involve her more in this entry, because if I did, this entry would be a book. She has spent hours and hours and hours with me, talking to me all night and day, encouraging me, loving me, but unfortunately doing things that I’m so not used to that I don’t believe it. When I was growing up, my mum DID show me affection. Occasionally. I mean literally once or twice a week. But because of how we were treated usually, I could never believe her nice side. It was always going to be followed by her spitting acid mere hours later. – So compliments don’t so a lot for me, people giving me attention doesn’t do a lot for me despite the fact that I so desperately want attention from the people around me (excluding family of course!) But it’s getting to the point now when if my family contacts me, I get a sharp pain in my heart, pains in my arms and um.. I don’t know what you call it, but that bit behind the middle of the ribcage? that hurts a LOT. I’m scared that any one of these days my family will call me, and I’ll outright die. PLEASE don’t tell me that my habits are the problem, I know they’re a problem. ONE of the problems. But you can’t tell an alcohol for example to just “give up” his alcohol, there’s causal links behind everything. If you think otherwise about me wanting to cut my family out of my life I’m totally all ears, but it’s hard. Does anyone know what I mean by finding it hard to cut them your of your life? I’m not talking about any emotional contact, I hold no more emotions for them, it’s exhausting. but built into my mind to say “how high?” when they tell me to jump. Please, please. Could someone give me some advice? - NoMoreClowns.