Note – This blog contains mention of self harm, possible emotional abuse by a parent, and the use of basic profanity. If any of these topics are triggering for you, please click off and have a great day. Remember that people care about you and I’m proud of you!

Introduction –

I’ve been doing a lot of self-reflection lately, due to some words that one of my closest friends told me recently. Some of that reflection has been in an attempt to dive deeper into the cause of my depression and figure out why I have been like this for the past two years, as well as why I have been getting severely worse over the past three or four months. No matter which aspect I think of, almost all of it loops around to one person: my father. Maybe some of the things I write in this will help others realize the signs, or maybe someone will show me that this is just my paranoia spiking. Either way, I hope that somehow, this will help me collect my thoughts and push through this reflection period until I find a way to get better.

Seeing as I will be talking about my depression, it only feels fair to give a simple overview of my struggles before I dive into my familial issues. For convenience, I have put together a list of my main struggles. They are listed as follows:

• Feelings of selfishness for asking for anything/doing anything for myself
• Feelings of worthlessness no matter what achievements I make
• Feeling as if I am childish after confiding in friends or showing negative emotions
• Feeling like my family would be better off if I disappeared

I want to go over all of these a little more in depth, and show you all a bit of my history in order to gain insight as to why I have these issues. Mind you, this is not simple “teenage angst” or anything like that, though that is really just my opinion and others could prove me wrong; for me, these are crushing issues that affect my day-to-day functions, sometimes impeding me from doing basic tasks on a daily basis. If I am wrong about that after you read what comes after this, please let me know.

Now, I will admit, I write a lot, and I want this to be able to be read with a storyline that can be followed properly without jumping around. Due to this, I will be splitting this into multiple parts, in order to streamline the reading experience. This blog in particular will be dealing with my feelings of selfishness. Without further ado, let’s begin this dive into my headspace.

Selfishness –

I have had a constant issue with dealing with my own feelings of selfishness, to the point where I have become selfless to a fault in some occasions. It wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration to say that I would die if it meant someone was left inconvenienced by my actions. I can, however, pinpoint the source of this issue; I know the exact event that caused me to feel like this. It’s story time, folks.

Picture this: it’s June of 2023, and I am 14 years old. I have just moved to Mississippi due to my dad’s job in the military, meaning that I have left behind all of my friends that I made in Texas, where we lived previously, that I had known for four years at that point. If this move was made under normal circumstances, it would be relatively fine, because I would be able to talk to my friends on my phone. I had, however, just been grounded a few months prior. Due to this, I d0n’t have access to any of my electronics, and all of this was for something I didn’t do. (trust me, this is a story of its own, but I’ll save this for another day).

Additionally, the house we were moving into had been trashed by the people we were renting it out to; it was to the point where we couldn’t walk through the front doorway properly without fear of the floor caving in. Since that was happening, we were remodeling the entire house, so we lived at my grandparent’s house. Because of all the stress, my parents were arguing constantly, and I didn’t have any escape from it. I remember that, one night, I had loosely tied a USB cord around my neck and just sat on my bed, wondering if I should tie the other end to my doorknob or bed frame. Spoiler: I didn’t do either.

Needless to say, my stress was mounting to points further than it had been for years, the only time surpassing then being when I had so much anxiety that I hallucinated a shadow man was trying to kill me. Anyways, I’m getting sidetracked. When I got in the car to go to the house we were working on, I sat in the backseat instead of the front. My mom didn’t mention it, but she later admitted she found it strange. She started the car and we started our drive.

My mind was blank as I did all of this. I only remember a bit from when I was in that headspace: I remember not being able to think anything except how to kill myself in the moment. I looked around. Maybe there was a pencil, or some tool I could use… my mom would notice in time and stop me. Maybe I could drink from the bottle of glass cleaner on the floorboard… that wasn’t guaranteed to kill me. Then I looked to my right. I saw the door handle to the car, and I saw that somehow, the door hadn’t locked. I looked at my mom’s speedometer. 60 miles per hour.

I was motionless. Was this my chance? I could easily jump out of the car before my mom could react. It would hurt, obviously, but it would most likely kill me. My mind began racing. Should I? I shouldn’t. But the pain— But mom— What if— No— If—

“Hey mom,” I asked shakily, “can I move to the middle seat? I don’t trust myself.”

I said it as if in autopilot. I hadn’t thought about the words until after they had left my mouth. I immediately felt a tinge of regret as the words left my mouth. I don’t remember the rest or the car ride, or how I got in the house, except that I was allowed to sit in the middle, my mom was crying, and my dad’s face shone of anger.

I was put into one of the empty rooms— this room would eventually be mine when we were finished remodeling— and was told to wait for my dad so we could have a “talk.” In my family, that doesn’t mean a calm discussion about what’s bothering us, it means fury. That’s the only way I can describe it.

My dad walked in and shut the door, pulling up a chair. It was one of those foldable chairs that you can get at any Academy store, red if I remember correctly. His face was neutral, but that’s what scared me the most. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made that same face when he was being yelled at by his drill sergeant during boot camp. I would be lying if I said I remember the details of our conversation, but I remember a few bits, and they have been locked in my mind for over a year. He had asked me a question. I had responded with something along the lines of “I want to die to be less of a burden.” His eyes widened, his teeth gritted, and he bit his finger as hard as he possibly could. I felt my eyes ache instinctively, getting ready for tears. In reality, I feel the same sensation right now as I type this.

He sprung up from his chair and moved to get as close to my face as possible. He yelled as loud as he possibly could, to the point where I felt as if the walls were vibrating from his booming voice. “To be less of a burden!? Fuck you. Do you know what that would do to your mother, you selfish asshole? No, no, shut the fuck up. You’re only doing this for attention. You’re trying to get out of working on the house. Shut the fuck up!”

I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t see, and I couldn’t think. The only thing my body felt were those words. Selfish asshole… only for attention… fuck you.. out of work… attention… asshole… selfish…

Selfish.

He left the room after about 30 minutes, and I was left alone in that empty tomb of a room. I heard him and my mom both yelling, my dad’s voice rattling my door and my mom’s voice choking up after every other word. What followed was a medication prescription, one video chat with a therapist that my parents listened in on, and more yelling. That’s it. I didn’t get any long lasting help, no actual therapy, and nothing changed. The only reason I didn’t kill myself is because I met a girl with dyed hair on the bus with pride flag pins on her backpack. I know you won’t read this, but thank you, Joie. Hope I can see you again soon after all these months.

Conclusion –

This concludes my first blog on this website. I thank you so much, and I hope you stick around to read the next couple of instillations that I’ll be making. Expect a blog from me every weekend, unless I have stuff going on, which I will let you all know about in advance on my profile. Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a fantastic day!