So, 24 now, and my stepfather entered my life around the time I was 4. Real father was an alcoholic, and he wasn’t in the picture.

I’m not certain why I’m writing this, but I have been known to do some venting on Reddit from time-to-time, and I do like to write, so perhaps this was the greatest outlet for me to utilize during this time.

I’ve dealt with anxiety and depression for as long as I can remember. It really hit full swing by the time I turned 13, as I became absolutely engulfed in the many emotions I was experiencing. Things like turning red easily, or shaking, or heart racing. Basically, full-on anxiety and panic attacks that started at age 13. But I think back to when I was even 8 years old or so, and I was triple-checking all the locks in the house and making my mother promise me that nobody would break in to kill us. So the paranoid thoughts were happening as a child, but she always called me a “worrywart.”

My mother was and is a kind woman, albeit with horrible anxiety of her own, but she doesn’t believe in mental illness. She thinks all can be fixed with a good diet and a fair amount of exercise and prayers to God. As soon as she begun to date my stepfather, around the time I was 4, I witnessed them arguing and screaming bloody murder at each other nearly everyday. Little things, but I remember waking up to them chasing each other around the house and yelling so loudly that the neighbors could hear. Then my stepfather would come into my room and scream things like, “Just so you know, your mom and I are probably getting a divorce!”

You start off scared, but then you begin to grow numb to it. It becomes typical. I can’t tell you how many times I flunked a test the next morning because of them fighting and bringing me into it, or my mom and I driving to nearby family or a hotel to get away.

There were times I got along with my stepfather. I don’t look at him as entirely evil. I view him as deeply flawed and with many issues of his own. Issues he could never bring himself to deal with. That being said, it’s difficult to not feel any resentment towards him, or resentment towards my mother for staying with him. She knew what he did, she witnessed him getting in my face, threatening to punch or kill me, and yet, a day or two goes by, and all is forgotten about.

I’m not sure if I have PTSD from this, but I do know my self-esteem was greatly lowered throughout my childhood and teenage years. As I said, about turning red, I have generalized anxiety disorder and would frequently do this anytime I felt uneasy. Like I had a building sense of dread at all times. I can still remember being at Walmart with my stepfather, and him being verbally abusive to me in line. I turned red, from a combination of anxiety and anger, and I remember him going, “You getting red? Your face getting red?” taunting me. It’s something I still fight in my daily life today, because I asked my mother to get help since age 13 but she shrugged it off and told me everyone gets anxious or depressed, and so, for many years I believed her.

Anyways, around the age of 19, I finally sought out help on my own. I’ve been diagnosed with everything from Bipolar II to GAD to ADD to Major Depressive Disorder to BPD. I’m not sure what I have exactly, but I feel strongly that my issues today primarily stem from the abuse I experienced daily as a kid.

I know I now live everyday with a general sense of hopelessness and emptiness, just drifting from day-to-day, wanting to achieve my goals and dreams but not having the mental energy to do any of it. I’ve tried for years to get proper help, but every doctor and therapist I’ve ever dealt with has been a joke. No medication has worked, and on top of it all, my mother tells me constantly that medicine isn’t the answer and that still, to this day, nothing is wrong with me, despite me attempting and ending up in the psych ward. And the night I got out of the psych ward to stay with my mom and stepfather, he decided to get into an argument with her over my dog being on their bed, and so she came with me to my apartment then proceeded to tell me that she’s always stuck in the middle of him and I being assholes. The night I got out of the psych ward, this is what my mother had to say to me. And then, the second time I attempted, she said to me, “I can’t believe you are doing this to me again.”

Now, I’m very mentally ill, and nobody in my family believes it. They think I’m just dramatic. But I carry these scars with me and I think horrible thoughts daily. Thoughts that I’m not good enough. That I should just end it. That nobody loves me.

Am I wrong for feeling like I want to completely withdraw myself from my family? I know my mother isn’t a bad person, but she is a clingy, overly attached mother who puts all of her issues onto me and expects me to be okay with her husband, who was emotionally abusive to me for my entire childhood. Basically, I feel these two ruined me, and I am still trying to put the pieces of myself back together at age 24.

Anyways, if you’ve read this far, thank you. I don’t know what else to say. I just want to find peace.