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Growing up complicated

Broken home, abuse, depression and so much more

By SuzieLouisePublished 4 years ago 8 min read
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Growing up complicated
Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash

Growing up I always felt out of place, like I didn't belong, kind of like I was just in the way. My childhood wasn't ideal, it could have been worse, but it was definitely different from all of my friends.

I'm the youngest of five kids, three brothers and a sister, so it was easy to feel left out. There is ten years between me and my oldest brother, five years between us and my sister (the middle child), they were all old enough for them to not want to play with me or spend much time doing what I wanted to do. I always felt like I was in their way or annoying them, so I ended up getting angry a lot because I didn't really know how to express all the emotion I was feeling; not really the right way of going about it that's for sure.

My mother left our father when I was just two, I've never really known him and it wasn't until later in life that I would realise that I didn't want to, but for as long as I can remember she has done everything by herself without much help from anyone in the family. Our father's side of the family pretty much disowned us for completely selfish reasons, they refused to help the one and only time my mother reached out for help; they aren't nice people.

I remember that we struggled for a few years after our parents split, we left in a hurry packing everything quickly and throwing everything in storage while he was on a job (he's a truck driver). We had moved into my Nans house, who already had my Aunt and her new born living with her, so that was nine people (six kids, including a new born) living under one roof.

We didn't stay at my nans long, my Mom, Nan and Aunt have a tendency to get on each other's nerves and fight a lot. Mom had applied for assisted housing and managed to view a four bedroom house in a kind of nice area, she accepted and got the keys that afternoon; she was desperate.

The night we moved in we had no power, which meant no lights and no hot water, we had none of our furniture set up either, so we were all on mattresses in the loungeroom the first night and there ended up being a massive storm. But it was the next day that really showed us what the street was really like.

My siblings were in our front yard playing with a ball when all of a sudden police cars came speeding into the street full sirens and everything, they went straight to the house opposite ours kicking in the door and arresting the woman who lived there's boyfriend; little did we know this was going to happen more often than is normal.

But for our family things were looking up right? We had a house of our own now, everythign is all good. No. Mom was still a single mother trying to raise five kids on a single minimum wage income, she needed help but she couldn't turn to family so she turned to Anglicare, this is where we got assistance with food shopping, christmas presents and rent assistance if needed. We were on this for a couple years until Mom managed to get on her feet and figure things out; I don't think she ever told the family we were getting assistance, I'm not sure my siblings even know how much we were relying on it, but I was always with her so I saw it firsthand.

Things did get easier after that, financially atleast. This whole time we saw our father maybe once and he left us to defend for ourselves while he slept, so we never went back and he never tried to stay in our lives; I didn't see him again until I was sixteen and that was a nightmare and a half.

The thing is though, as it got better for us financially, thigns got worse for me personally. It started with a few outbursts when Mom wasn't around, mainly just verbal bullying but it started escalating as we got older, my brother (the second oldest) changed into a very cruel person and it seemed like it was always aimed at me.

Growing up it became routine to notice the signs of when to hide or avoid him, I begged Mom for a lock on my door or to not leave me alone with him. It wasn't until I was older and we were in the car, I had turned the radio up to listen to a song I liked and it had pissed him off, that things went too far. I will always remember the words he said to me "If you don't turn that off I will shoot you with a shotgun and no one will ever find your body." I ran from the car and barracaded myself in my room, putting furniture behind the door, I told my mother that either he left or I did; I wasn't going to live that way anymore. I'd been verbally abused, emotionally torn down, even hit, but this time he threatened to kill me and that is still a traumatising thing for me.

He never left and neither did I, Mom put a lock on my door and I stayed at my Nans house one night a week, it was just said that he couldn't treat me that way anymore. He didn't change though, I could see that, but I figured out a way to never really see him; I went to school, came home and locked myself in my room. See the thing is, I was broke a little a long time before this, but I broke a lot after this and what I didn't know was that I would break a whole lot more later.

By the time I was fifteen I had spiralled so far into a depression that it felt like I was drowing, I started cutting in order to feel something somedays and to focus on anything but the emotional pain other days, when I did it felt like that first breath of air you take after being under water for so long.

Cutting became my drug, I was addicted to it and the feeling it gave me, it held and still holds so much power over me.

There was so much that has gone into my manic depressive and minor anxiety disorder; family, friends, events of my childhood that were traumatising; it wasn't just one thing it was more of a snowball effect, things just built up over time until it became too much.

The thing that I think caused so much of the pain and issues was that I was sexually assualted twice, no one in my family knows about it, I've only spoken to a select few people about it and never in detail; but it's something that I'm still trying to come to terms with and still makes me qeustion everything I do.

The first time was when I was just a child, I barely remember it but I remember enough for it to be burned into my memory forever. The second time was when I was when I was in high school, I was fourteen and my innocence was completely stollen from me; I didn't know what to do, I was going through everything with my brother and my Mom and I didn't really get along at the time, so I pretended like nothing happened and I wish I had reported it. I never knew who it was either time, I never saw their faces or if I did I've repressed them, but I do know that now I struggle with relationships of any kind and I get anxiety even being around people who I don't know and trust completely because of this.

But after years of therapy and being on anti-depressants for awhile, which I don't remember much of being on because I'm missing most of my memories from when I was fifteen, it's just blank; I finally figured out a system that works for me to manage my 'disorder'. That's the thing people don't talk about much when it comes to depression, it's not exactly curable, you learn to manage it and live with it but it's still always there. You're not always depressed but you do have moments when you can spiral into so quickly, at least that's my experience.

I am so much healthier than I was, I'm now 23 and I'm happy with my life, but I still spiral occasionally. When I'm sad, I get more sad than a person with normal mental health, but when I'm happy I cherish it so much more. I will never be without depression and I've come to terms with that, it's not something I'm ashamed of, I'm not even ashamed of the fact that I still get the urge and think about cutting because like I said before, it was my addiction and like an alocholic or drug addict, it's a lifelong battle with that.

But everything that has happened to me, while being terrible and I wouldn't wish it on anybody, it made me who I am and I find that I have more empathy and compassion to others than I would if these things didn't happen; I'm not thankful for what happened but I am thankful that I have been able to turn that into fuel to make myself a better person than to allow it to turn me into a monster or to allow it to be what ended my existence.

It became my power and my hope for better...

depression
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About the Creator

SuzieLouise

Just someone expressing her experiences in life and her emotions as well as her perspective on it all.

And some fun things too.

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