I'm writing this to ease my pain - to see my thoughts written down.
I'm currently taking three medications: one is an anti-depressant whilst the other two are anti-psychotics. So, as a friend of mine told me, "I'm a psycho."
I don't know why - it's been theorized that my brain is just wired wrong - but I can hear voices; and other times, I suffer from recurring memories in which I relive the emotions in said memories.
Before the medication, I would relive all kinds of memories throughout the day: my mother telling me she would kill me and herself when I was just six years old; my father telling me I wasn't worth five cents just because I messed up his coffee; him telling me I ruined his life with my birth; the countless times he threw things at me as I crawled up in a ball cried my eyes out. I can still easily remember, at the age of seven, my dad forced me to write letter to my mother in which I called her a harlot and many other names.
The fighting between my mother and father was the worst. They would yell and scream and break things. My most horrid memory of their fighting is a simple one: my father holding my mother down as I ran out of the house in fear of what would happen. Later, my mother would tell me they both had a plan: my father would take my mother out back and he would take her head off with an ax. Later, during the divorce, I remember hiding myself as I listened to their fighting. Then, came a most terrible noise: the sound of a grown man crying for mercy. I don't know what my mother did, but the cries would echo in my head for ever.
On a memorable night, my father was breaking dishes and other things. I called my mom (who moved out of state) and told her. My dad found out and told me that she would send police to come get him. He made me sit on the couch as he readied his gun for their arrival. No one would show.
One morning, when I was fourteen, my father was yelling at me. It wasn't unusual, but this time he put his hands around me. In fear, I pushed him away. For doing that, he told me he was going to slit my throat in my sleep. I told the school counselor that morning, but nothing would be done because there was no proof of abuse. My father later found out and he would later come to just yell at me some more. Later that night, the voices of my head rang out, "They didn't help you! They deserve to die!" I even had hallucinations of the room moving.
At fifteen, I learned some disturbing news from fellow students. They mocked me and told me a friend of mine (who was only fifteen herself) was having sex with my father. Later, when my father's door was locked, I snuck up to the window and discovered that it was true. A few weeks later, they decided to start making fun of me, calling me names I don't wish to repeat. Eventually, that friend told my father I couldn't see my mother anymore. Eventually months passed and that friend's parents found out about her relationship with my father. My friend then tried to kill herself but failed. Her parents called the police and my father forced me to lie to them to prove his innocence. In the end, he blamed me for it all.
After hearing voices for so long, I was finally put into a mental hospital for two weeks. They gave me medication and it stopped the voices and recurring memories. In fact, it erased many of my memories. I don't mind though.
My sixteenth birthday recently passed. For celebration, my father made switches to whip me with...
I have officially been diagnosed with depression, Asperger's syndrome, suicidal idealization, and homicidal idealization. There are many things that I won't type, even here, but I must admit that I've made my own "suicide prayer" that I say every so often. It's short but it goes, "Lord, have mercy on your child and take me into your arms, where I might finally find rest."
I'm ashamed to write anymore.
I'm currently taking three medications: one is an anti-depressant whilst the other two are anti-psychotics. So, as a friend of mine told me, "I'm a psycho."
I don't know why - it's been theorized that my brain is just wired wrong - but I can hear voices; and other times, I suffer from recurring memories in which I relive the emotions in said memories.
Before the medication, I would relive all kinds of memories throughout the day: my mother telling me she would kill me and herself when I was just six years old; my father telling me I wasn't worth five cents just because I messed up his coffee; him telling me I ruined his life with my birth; the countless times he threw things at me as I crawled up in a ball cried my eyes out. I can still easily remember, at the age of seven, my dad forced me to write letter to my mother in which I called her a harlot and many other names.
The fighting between my mother and father was the worst. They would yell and scream and break things. My most horrid memory of their fighting is a simple one: my father holding my mother down as I ran out of the house in fear of what would happen. Later, my mother would tell me they both had a plan: my father would take my mother out back and he would take her head off with an ax. Later, during the divorce, I remember hiding myself as I listened to their fighting. Then, came a most terrible noise: the sound of a grown man crying for mercy. I don't know what my mother did, but the cries would echo in my head for ever.
On a memorable night, my father was breaking dishes and other things. I called my mom (who moved out of state) and told her. My dad found out and told me that she would send police to come get him. He made me sit on the couch as he readied his gun for their arrival. No one would show.
One morning, when I was fourteen, my father was yelling at me. It wasn't unusual, but this time he put his hands around me. In fear, I pushed him away. For doing that, he told me he was going to slit my throat in my sleep. I told the school counselor that morning, but nothing would be done because there was no proof of abuse. My father later found out and he would later come to just yell at me some more. Later that night, the voices of my head rang out, "They didn't help you! They deserve to die!" I even had hallucinations of the room moving.
At fifteen, I learned some disturbing news from fellow students. They mocked me and told me a friend of mine (who was only fifteen herself) was having sex with my father. Later, when my father's door was locked, I snuck up to the window and discovered that it was true. A few weeks later, they decided to start making fun of me, calling me names I don't wish to repeat. Eventually, that friend told my father I couldn't see my mother anymore. Eventually months passed and that friend's parents found out about her relationship with my father. My friend then tried to kill herself but failed. Her parents called the police and my father forced me to lie to them to prove his innocence. In the end, he blamed me for it all.
After hearing voices for so long, I was finally put into a mental hospital for two weeks. They gave me medication and it stopped the voices and recurring memories. In fact, it erased many of my memories. I don't mind though.
My sixteenth birthday recently passed. For celebration, my father made switches to whip me with...
I have officially been diagnosed with depression, Asperger's syndrome, suicidal idealization, and homicidal idealization. There are many things that I won't type, even here, but I must admit that I've made my own "suicide prayer" that I say every so often. It's short but it goes, "Lord, have mercy on your child and take me into your arms, where I might finally find rest."
I'm ashamed to write anymore.
