Forget This12/04/11Forget This
First, let me make my apologies for my extended absence. It has been so wonderful to be part of this community and for the comments I have received thus far I am extraordinarily grateful. That someone else cares--even if that someone else is a stranger--is incredible. I would wish to extend that same kindness and generosity to anyone who reads this blog, day or night. Whenever.
Depression is a debilitating disease unlike any other, and to paraphrase an author whose name is currently beyond my memory, a prison, where those who suffer it are both the poor jailbird and the cruel jailer. That it is able to do thoroughly destroy individuals that--so very commonly--are lovely, brilliant, and strong, is a tragedy.
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My own experiences in depression have always been as such: that even when I actively, straight-forwardly seek help, I am either left to my own devices or handled entirely in the wrong way.
My mother, for example, would have you believe that I, despite being the gifted program and outstripping virtually every one of my classmates in whatever activities I devote myself to, because (2 of) my grades are poor, am doomed to a mediocre college where my intelligence is laughable.
My father would have you believe that I am a lazy, arrogant, unintelligent child who is wasting whatever little talents she has, and that I am very thoroughly an embarrassment to all those who are associated with me. That I am depressed is only a further sign of my fault, my utter failures. I am seeking glory but unwilling to do the work and will be easily outstripped by all those many people that exceed me in every respect.
Perhaps I am arrogant. Perhaps I am lazy. Perhaps I am wasting my talents. Maybe I even am stupid. Certainly I have made poor choices in the past. But I have decided this: That my parents, both of whom are currently aware of my depression and of my suicidal ideations, don't matter.
Of course their little girl, of course this little girl--who has been sexually exploited, who has been trapped in a home where abuse and violence are an everyday occurence, who has been so utterly tramautized by their own constant beratement, immaturity, and demeaning attitudes that she hates not only herself, but is entirely incapable of forming intimate, healthy relationships--needs to be reminded further of this.
Why should they have any care for the happiness of their offspring? Why shouldn't they treat their children with absolute disgust? Why shouldn't they constantly berate and betray them, and continue even through their knowledge of the pain of these children to punish them for it?
I have only this to say: Fine. Herd me into therapy. Force anti-depressants down my throat. Remind me of how terrible and cruel and stupid I am. But you know what? I deserve better. I know I deserve better and I know I am better than what you tell me I really am. I know myself better than you ever will and when it comes down to it I won't need you. I can succeed. I can thrive. I can do something and as you say otherwise I say FORGET YOU.
[I threw all of my medicine in the trash today. Happy, are you?]
1 comment
Comment from: Lauren [Member]
I'm sorry to hear about your parents and how they treat you, I have my own parent shit going on too. we can talk bout that later if you want. but the main reason why i'm commenting is to return the kindness you showed me and im here to offer a helping hand to be there for you and help guide you to a better place. I don't actually know you, but I can see that you have an amazing heart and I would love to get to know you so feel free to email me or comment on my blog. Hope you smile at least once for me :)
12/06/11 @ 18:40
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