This is my first blog..
I really don't know what to say.
So I guess I'll just tell my story.
I am 18 years old. People look at me and think I live a perfect life, My parent's are still together, I have pretty nice thing.. blah blah blah.
But what people don't see are that yes, my parents are still together, but not for long, the only reason why they are right now is because of my and my brothers. They wanted us to grow up with a family.. But they fight and fight and fight. Not a day goes by where they don't..
the reason why my parents got married was because my mom was pregnant.. My dad's family didn't want them to.. Why? because my mom is white, and my dad is Chinese.. His family wanted him to marry a nice CHINESE wife.. And he didn't.. he's not happy with us. He would rather be with HIS family. with his sisters. with his Chinese sisters..
All my life I knew he was happier with them. I could see the way he acts around them.
I hate visiting my aunts. Why? because all my life I've had a nick name with them. "fat girl" That's my nick name. Can you imagine what it's like being called that? They thought it was innocent because I couldn't understand what they were saying. but I always understood when they called me that name in Canto.. over the years I built a wall. It was a high one. It helped. When thee words fat girl were thrown out there my heart didn't feel it. But one night.. seven years ago. It was February, how do I remember? we were out for supper for my Grandma's birthday.. anyways my cousin looked at me and said "do you like being called that" and I said no. and something about that made my wall come crashing down. My uncle drove me to his house that night and I went straight upstairs.. Not looking at a single person. That night was the first night I ever thought about suicide. I cried that whole night.. The next day we went home. I never told my mom about the nick name until after that happened.. she addressed my dad about it, and my dad addressed my aunts about it. did it stop them? No.
Ever since then I've been trying to build that wall up again. But it's not strong, not like the last one. It crumbles easily. too easily.
I think that is what lead to my depression.
The thing about me is.. I haven't went to the doctor about being depressed.. I'm too scared to. Plus I think that if I went to my mom and said "I am depressed, I don't know what to do.. " She would just think I'm looking for attention. I"m not. I've wanted to tell her so many times but I can't. I've felt like this for over five years now.
Sometimes when I'm in my room trying to sleep (which takes me about two hours to actually get to sleep) I think about ways to die. I've come up with a couple of senscenarios.. Then I think; will I be missed? I don't know.
I really need help. But I don't know if I can get any. I'm scared of what might happen.
If anyone has any advice.. It would be greatly appreciated.