1. This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this site, you are agreeing to our use of cookies. Learn More.

No friends, no family, no life. // TRIGGER WARNING //

Discussion in 'Rants, Musings and Ideas' started by KK99, Nov 29, 2012.

  1. KK99

    KK99 Active Member

    [[Possible triggers are in white text color, just in case.]] Highlight to x read x


    It's strange that I am still even alive. I know that people have it worse off than I, but I'll be honest and say that I have a lot on my plate...

    I don't have the greatest connection with my family and siblings. They have deteriorated over time, especially from the physical, mental, and the emotional abuse that I got overtime. I cal recall a number of things that has pushed me away from my mom, dad, and grandma.

    Also, I'm afraid of all three of them.

    I'm afraid of my dad, because at a young age, he was able to control us with fear. He kept his authority with fear, and I just realized that just this month. All the years of screaming & yelling at us ('us' as in my three siblings & I,) hitting us, etc. According to him, violence was the answer to everything. It was the answer to my depression I had since my pre-teen years, it was the answer to my OCD for the past three years, too. And every damn minute of it just stabbed holes into my brain. If he were to use hitting as just a punishment for doing something bad, I would've been fine today, I think. x I remember him trying to slap the answers out of me when I was little - I wasn't good at math, and I'm still not good at it...

    My mother, though...I still can't talk to her in person today. She had problems, and still has problems.
    She had my older brother, then my older sister, and after that, twins - my brother & I.
    She was a partier, with the alcohol, drugs, & everything; It seemed like she no longer gave a shit after me & my brother were born.

    Seven years after our birth, she had a breakdown or something. My dad says it was because of the drugs, but I don't know. I've heard some questionable things from my mom, and what my dad *might've* done to her. She was also been diagnosed with BPD shortly after that.
    My dad decides to take us to (his mom's) / my grandma's place, go to school there for half the first grade, then they decide to move to the little shit town I live in now. Now, I don't believe there is a Hell, but if there is one, this is it.

    And I'm in it.

    So, she was court ordered to visit us every weekend. She did for awhile, but then, sooner or later, she didn't come as frequently. And we began to see less and less of her. My siblings and I would sit on the front porch, and wait, and wait...

    x I can recall being there one weekend, when I was eleven, or younger. One morning, I was in the kitchen, looking for something to eat. I hear her wake up (hungover, but I didn't know the difference,) and when she stepped out of the room, I ask her what was for breakfast. Her reply was shoving between the space of the couch & the wall, and yelling at me. Now, I was upset, and crying. And she never apologized.x

    We would go Christmas after Christmas, Birthdays, year after year, hoping we would get a visit from her - and a present, or a cake, us being the kids we were. But, there was nothing. Maybe a hug here and there.

    And my grandma...she did what was best for us, by being there for us, instead of my mother. But she did some bogus things as well, mostly verbal & emotional abuse.
    She was with us 'till we turned 15. She decided that she couldn't take anymore of the shit that happened at the house (very hectic, unstable, & negative environment - and it still is. I wish she would've taken me with.)
    She still helps me today, giving me rides to my counselor and back, but it's really nice to know that "every time you need me is when you need something."

    And, now finally, the school years.

    Elementary school...I don't remember a whole lot of it. At first, I was the 'new girl,' but God only knows what they called me after I wasn't so new anymore. I was the little, ugly girl with short blonde hair & glasses. I was gangly and awful-looking; I also had an awful wardrobe. (I wasn't able to choose out my own outfits until I was in middle school - ....P.S: I was dressed by my grandma.) I was also the stupid kid who couldn't do math, or at least tell time from an analog clock. I was also the big cry-baby bitch, too.

    First grade, My teacher was a bitch. We had these different colored cards we had to flip if we were bad, assigned to us by number. What's funny was, I always had number 7 through my school years, which proved itself, because I was lucky to get out of those years alive.
    Anyways, if you were bad, you had to flip the card to the back to show another color. It was green - for good/no trouble, then it was blue, yellow, orange/warning cards, then red, when that card is flipped, you have to go to the office.

    So, when one of my classmates got in trouble - the ones that despised me, they would flip the cards in MY number slot, and the teacher didn't even give a shit! She wasn't stupid - she knew exactly what was going on.

    x So, one day I get to the red card (which was NOT by my doing at all,) and I get sent to the office. I remember struggling for an answer while trying not to cry as I was being scolded for something I didn't do, and the worst part was, I had to call my grandma and tell her something that I didn't even fucking do! WHICH WAS NOTHING! I didn't know that back then. Honestly, I don't even remember how that issue was resolved...x

    Now just about every time I get yelled at or scolded, I can't help but to break down & cry. I'm afraid to ask for anything, and my confidence in anything is low - especially wen it comes to authority figures. I hate it...and I fucking hate feeling sorry for myself...but I don't know how else to react.

    Second, third, fourth grade, just a lot of relentless bullying & gaining a friend...


    Middle School. Fifth and Sixth grade.

    There were two girls in particular - x God, if I was a sociopath, they would've been all over the walls & floors for what they did to me.

    6th grade. I met a new friend. She was a particularly nice girl. She didn't fit in well like the rest for awhile, but she got to later...which consisted of her gathering as much personal information from me as possible, & telling it to all the people that I was bullied by.
    Note - I had a strange obsession with wolves back in the day.
    So, one day in class, she decided to tell someone that bullied me that I had this deep obsession with wolves. What does she do? Calls me out on it, then soon has the whole class howling, and mimicking me. It was one of the most terrible moments in my life; I was so upset, I didn't even bother to walk out of the classroom. I just buried my head into my arms & cried, hoping no one would notice. The English teacher didn't do shit about it - just decided to continue teaching the class...

    So, this was the time I began to self injure. I just got fed up with shit, and ended up scratching up my arm with the aluminum piece at the end of a pencil... I continued this habit until I was caught by my grandma - she saw the marks - I got yelled at & bitched at from all sides that day, and the days to follow.
    x Being yelled at was one of my triggers, and didn't get any point across for me...which I never understood why people used that method in the first place. To me, it was always just as painful as being punched....


    7th grade...by the grace of God, it was the happiest year of my school life, I guess. I got to dress how I wanted - my old, crappy wardrobe was FINALLY gone! I didn't get bullied as much, because I was apart of a good group of friends.

    Now, 8th grade. I still had my group of friends. We were all so close, we'd get sick of each other, part our ways/blow off steam, then be right up each other's asses again. :)

    x But, one of the shittiest things happened in that grade.
    The lady that did this to me had recently died, actually. I think I forgive her, really. I don't see a point of holding on to something when the person isn't even alive anymore...
    Anyways, I was in the school library - we had to do these reading test things, which I sucked at. I was trying to figure out how to log in to the computer, and my blind self didn't see the instructions that were taped out-of-sight, on the wall above the computer.
    So, I ask this particular lady for help. She comes over, grabs me by my hair, and steers my head up at the sign, and makes me read it aloud, with the whole class present. And once again, no one did shit about it.

    It wasn't my fault that I couldn't do things right, or good enough. It wasn't my fault that I had people at home that abused me, either.

    This was almost my breaking point, but I somehow held on for three more years.


    High school...there isn't much to say about it. I gained a few acquaintances, had people REALLY screw me over & use me, when all I did was be a good friend / girlfriend (I've only had one boyfriend by that time.) I still got bullied. My group of friends were a year behind me, and I was alone.
    So, I just got tired of it all. I didn't do any of my homework, didn't pay attention, didn't attend P.E, started smoking (cigarettes,) and just being...well, depressed. I wish I could've just ditched school, but I guess I was too good for that.

    Then I dropped out during my junior year. I know, I was so close, but I honestly couldn't handle it all.


    So...about a year from them, after all that shit, I was no longer living the days, just surviving...I became suicidal, and finally, went for help.


    I did go back to the hospital just this month - my 2nd time self-admitting. I was suicidal, again.

    So, here I am now. I still don't have friends, I still don't feel like my family is here for me, due to the lack of connection. I broke up with my boyfriend today, who could've been my friend, but I just fucked it all up. I was told that I'm not getting any better - and I'm just worse off with the medication & therapy. I don't have an education, or a job for that matter. There's nothing here in this little shit-hole of a town, nothing! And I'm trapped here. I have no where to run to.

    So, I just kind of escape into my mind now-a-days, and draw, and talk to people online. I'm getting nowhere, and if I try (like I've done already,) I'll just be bitched at of how much of a failure I am, and how I'm not going anywhere. My siblings are my successors, even though I was suspected to be at a young age. Now, everyone's way far ahead of me in life, and I'm stuck here.

    x Honestly, if I wasn't afraid of cutting what was left of the emotional bonds, and if I wasn't on my medication, I probably wouldn't be typing this right now. I'd be doing something else.

    Sometimes, I wonder if I'm really in Hell.

    I just want to stop taking my meds again, and just let it happen.
  2. lordsalisbury

    lordsalisbury Well-Known Member

    Hey, I hope you're ok, just read your post, it's sad what happened to you. Did you ever watch that show 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'? It was about a high school that was also a portal to hell, and I think many people can relate to that. I don't really have any advice I'm afraid, just wanted to reply :)
  3. KK99

    KK99 Active Member

    It's alright. Some days are better than others. ^_^