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Rated: 18+ · Monologue · Emotional · #2032405
A message to my family
My family is broken. I am broken.

My dad is scary when angry. Even to this day I am scared of his anger. My most feared moment was when he picked me up by my throat and slammed me against the door to the garage. My sister sat there crying, I stood paralyzed, crying; my dad stood there angry, just holding me there for what felt like forever, which was only a good minute maybe. The next day everything was normal, we were smiling and being happy, the days were bright and we laughed all the time. I still laugh with my dad to this day, but his anger has always stricken fear into me. He also doesn't know how to talk to me about certain things. I wrote him a two page letter on how I should be allowed to date boys and why I think I am ready to. I never received the sex talk from him, his friend's wife was the first one to ever talk to me about it. I had talked about sex with my boyfriend in high school and my dad just passively stated I'm not ready for it. So during high school, when my depression began hitting very deeply, I didn't know how I was suppose to talk to him, cause I never knew his reaction; which would it be; will he get angry for me having these thoughts or would he passively say everything is okay and it will get better?

My mom is a social butterfly. She loves to talk and talk and talk; and she will strike conversations up with anybody. She's my polar opposite. I think it's cause of how she grew up, she was home schooled for most her childhood until high school I believe, which is when she met my dad who is several years older than her. She talks about everything to everyone, her personal life, her work life, she just talks to everyone. She's popular and gets invited to so many outings whether its with her boyfriend or not.  When she found out I was depressed and suicidal, her solution wasn't to find me help or find me a doctor, it was to send me to live with my grandparents. At the time, I was okay with it,but when I look back, all I feel is that she didn't want to deal with the issue and found the easiest solution; shipping the problem somewhere else. How can I talk to someone who will either talk to everyone about my problem or just find a way to pass it on someone else.

My stepfather, well not my real stepfather. My mother's boyfriend of several years. Rude remarks, what you think is a joke, is hurtful words to me. Being joked about my hair being called a dyke, my looks, it hurts! Always teasing me and poking fun at me. It sucks. How many times did I walk to my room and cry because of a fucking joke you decided would be funny. Whats worse is my mom never stopped you. Everyone just went along with it and laughed. I know you say you love me, and you probably do, but growing up in your house, I never felt the love. I felt humiliated and disdain to the point I just wanted to leave. Yes, we all had fun moments together but it could never overcome the memories of painful nights and endless crying.

My little sister. Growing up with you was hell. We never stopped fighting, which is what sisters do, but I seriously thought for years you hated me. Your are defiantly like our mother. Popular, pretty, miss social. So many people liked you, everyone thought you were cool or funny. I've always felt even though I'm the older sister, I'm stuck in your shadow. Why can't you be more outgoing or have more friends like your sister. That's what my mind tells me everyday. Why can't you be smart like your little sister? That night I punched you, I felt so much regret but so much pleasure. Being constantly harassed by you and ganged up on throughout high school fucking was hell. I'd walk slow so I wouldn't have to come home, I tried so many times to just be out of the house or away from it so I wouldn't have to deal with you. The night you found out I was suicidal, you ran to tell mom, and that was it. You never stopped to think what actions might have caused it, you didn't stop the bullying. You were a cause of my depression, not the only thing that caused it but a good amount of it. Why would I come to you for depression?

My step-sister, but not by marriage. Off and on relationship with you was so confusing. You were like a thermostat; hot and cold. One day we would be nice and friendly than weeks would go by where you would torment me with my sister. I was double-teamed by two people I should be able to go to in my time of need. You and my sister stole my childhood from me. I honestly hated growing up thanks to you and her. I hated knowing when you were going to be at the house, cause I didn't know what to expect from you. You were a fucking Dr. Jekyll, Miss Hyde. I just never knew which one you were going to be next. We've had our fights, we've had our good times, but my memories of being happy with you are outweighed by the torment and misery you've left me. Why should I come to you for help?

My step-mom. Over the years I still feel like I don't know you. You've made some poorly placed decisions, like when you took my sister's phone and conveniently found it in your room, and then gave it to her for Christmas. Same thing with her shirts and the camera; which was our mother's. You've caused a rift in my high school life. An emotional detachment from me on both sides. My father who stuck up for you and my mother who accused you. Started a mental a war that I was caught in the middle of. I couldn't even think about coming to you because I know you would talk to my father which I stated I feared would be angry or passive.  Your kids are to young to comprehend what I am going through so I cannot turn to them, however; I fear your second youngest is on the verge of depression like me.

So many memories with each and every one of you, happy, sad, angry, fear; so many. Which outweighs the other?  This whole thing focuses on the bad, so you can imagine which one wins. Yes, we have had so many laughs and so many happy memories, but none of you knew I wasn't really happy. None of you knew how many nights I suffered alone, crying silent tears. None of you knew how much pain I've gone through, how many times I've thought of killing myself, drowning, cutting my wrist, jumping off a building to my death. I grew up with friends who than turned their backs on me when I needed them the most. Family who only stopped for a moment than shrugged and walked past. I grew up with no one to turn to. None of you gave me a good enough reason to stop and tell you I need help. I've began cutting my wrists just to remove a little pain from heart and mind, cause it's the only solution i know how. I'm too embarrassed of myself to get help with counseling or the suicide prevention line. I'm to embarrassed to talk to my work or anyone in general about it. To this day, I can't stop and tell you anything because I feel like every one of you would just say it's nothing to be depressed about. You are all stronger than I am, I can say that. I'm struggling with living while all of you are just struggling with day to day activities. I'm struggling with wanting to even wake up the next day, whereas you all just go on about your day. How can someone who cries every fucking night ask for help from people whose days are just another day. Who smiles and has fun. Who has friends they can turn to, who has everything I could ever want, but can't reach. I can't fit in this family, in my own family. I'm a screw up, a fuck-up, I've made my mistakes, and every time I feel one step ahead, I'm four steps pushed down behind on the ground. I have a family, two great ones, but I don't fit in with either one of them.  My family is broken, I am un-fixable.
© Copyright 2015 Chelsea Kunath (ckunath1992 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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