Me too, tbh… it’s just a really fucked situation that I ended up in BECAUSE I reached out to them for help. I was failing college, unable to function, and had been hiding it from everyone for months. I finally cracked and leaned on them for help. My dad is okay, but my mom… my mom has made this house so unsafe to be in, but it’s my only option.

This house, for starters, is 30 minutes away from any semblance of society. Getting a job would be damn near impossible.

In order to see my girlfriend, I have to take a ferry and the whole trip takes over an hour.

I’ve been trying to see my girlfriend as much as possible, but my mom is livid when she has to look after my dog for any period of time and insists I need to bring her with me, which just isn’t possible.

She complains about how my emotional support animal isn’t constantly with me so CLEARLY I just wanted a pet and don’t actually need my dog. So then I ask her why I can’t bring Peaches to the in-patient program I’m going to since mom agreed in that situation that I should have her at all times. She scoffed and said she’s not paying extra for that. I told her she was treating Peaches like a service animal only when it was convenient to her, and she agreed as if that was an okay thing.

My dad does his best, but my mom blatantly will never respect my gender identity. She’s bluntly told me she’ll never refer to me as “he”. She sometimes uses “they”, but treats it like a burden. When I correct her on my pronouns, she becomes angry and snippy and she tells me to stop “playing this game” or “pushing my agenda”. Ever since I came out, she’s been clear that my gender makes her life difficult and is a huge burden to her.

Because I don’t have the means to not be financially dependent on her, she holds the money she spends on me over my head like I’m some leech. If I speak up, she’ll find a way to mention how much money she’s spent on me over the years until I’m guilted into shutting up.

I got my $950 tax return, and thought I could finally start saving up to move back out. She took $800 of it to go towards my education whenever I go back to college. She has denied me the opportunity to try and save up to leave.

She was supposed to put $50 in my account on the 27th. A few days before, she informed me that she would only give me $25 because she had to clean my bathroom. She cleaned it without telling me or letting me know so I could tell her not to and clean it myself. At this moment, on the 28th, she hasn’t even given me the $25.

She treats my girlfriend and I far different than my brother and his partner. She’s queerphobic, and it shows very bluntly.

I feel as though I can’t leave the house. She’ll invite me to do things and go run errands and apparently THAT’S when it’s okay for me to leave the dog at home and have dad watch her. Right now mom and dad are gone and I’m looking after their dogs.

My mental health is rapidly deteriorating. I am nearly constantly thinking about how I’m going to commit suicide. She knows that 3 of my 4 suicide attempts in the past were at least partially because of her. She doesn’t care. I started publicizing her transphobic aggression on Facebook and tagged her in one of the posts. She unfriended me and my girlfriend.

I’m stuck here. I’m physically and mentally isolated in this place. I live here but I don’t. Everything I’ve listed is from the past few weeks. If I tried to cover everything she’s said and done ever since I was 9, it’d take me at least a week to write everything down.

I want to start doing drawing/writing commissions, but in two weeks I’m going away for a month so I can’t consistently do them ((hell, I’m trying to get one commission done before I leave)). I might actively make a gofundme when I get back. I’m looking into donating my blood plasma, or checking if there are any local medical studies that I qualify to partake in. 

I do have a PayPal, and the donation button for it is on my blog at the top. I just want to get out of here. Any money I make from commissions/donations will solely go to getting the hell out of here.

2: Talk about your first kiss.

My real first kiss or my literal non-familial first kiss? I’ve told the literal version, so I guess I’ll talk about my first romantic kiss. The setting is May of… whatever year I was in 8th grade during. Remember how that one guy predicted the world was going to end or something on May 21st or whatever day of 2011? I think it was was 2011. Anyways, I had a datemate at the time ((it was a weird three-year on/off/clusterfcuk relationship)) and we were joking around and I said something along the lines of if the world doesn’t end maybe I’ll kiss you. So, of course, when the world didn’t end, we shared a brief, awkward, but decent first kiss. Six months later I broke up with him because he was just too uptight.

5: Talk about the best birthday you’ve ever had.

I’ve never been huge on celebrating my birthday? I mean, like in the sense of a party. I like going to dinner with family and getting things they know I’ll love. I don’t really like birthday parties, though. At least, not until recent years. I also can’t remember much about the specifics of my birthdays. Rather than the best single birthday, my best birthday kind of event is going out to dinner with my family every year. It’s basic, but I really don’t like parties. Even now, my ideal birthday party would be me and two or three close friends chilling at my apartment.

15: Talk about the time you were most content with your life.

….there hasn’t been? I don’t mean to sound like a downer, I suppose, though both because of my personality and the way my parents raised me, I was never really content. Not so much with my life, but with myself. By the time I was old enough to gauge the concept of being content I was being put on diets and the most important numbers were the ones on my report card. I have a difficult time being content with myself, so I can’t say I’ve ever been “content” to a point where it lasted more than a day or two.

24: Talking about something someone told you that meant a lot.

I’ve told this story once or twice before, I’m sure I have. And technically, this wasn’t “told” to me. At least not with words. In tenth grade, my mental health was at its worse. That was the school year I cut more than ever, tried to commit suicide twice, and could count the reasons to stay alive on one hand. I was taking notes in Biology, and my sleeve flipped up. I didn’t notice at first, but a friend of mine did. I pulled the sleeve down and nobody else seemed to have seen. Later, she approached me, tugged up my sleeve lightly, and drew a butterfly on my wrist, writing her name underneath it in Sharpie. It didn’t stop me from cutting for the rest of my life, it didn’t cure me- but I still remember that moment so clearly because it meant the world to me, and I think about it a lot, still. I’m not terribly close with that person anymore, but we’re mutuals and we’re both pursuing our interests in college. She’s still the stellar and ebullient person I remember her to be.

39: Talk about things you’d wish you’d known earlier.

I’ll just list them off in one big ol’ paragraph thing.

Dear Jack,

You are not defined by numbers- not a result on a scale, not a grade on a test, not any of that. You’re not a number, you’re not able to be quantified and defined by something as impersonal as a number. You never deserve a trauma. You’re not a monster, you’re just very sick. You need to keep working hard to get better, though. Know it’s not your fault, but don’t hide behind your illnesses to avoid facing them. You can’t just cure things or make them stop. No amount of progress will make the illnesses go away, but you will be able to improve, and you learn to cherish that progress instead of dwelling on the distance left to go. The way people love you don’t define your worth. Honestly, how much you love yourself doesn’t define your worth. You can’t be assigned a value; you’re a person, a SOUL- not a product. God won’t turn His back on you. God doesn’t cause the awful, terrible things. He can carry me through them, though. Get help sooner- don’t wait until you have a mental breakdown and are forced to get medical help. People will ALWAYS let you down- every single person you ever know will. They will all let you down, but the ones who realize when they do and show their guilt when it happens are the people who really matter. Don’t try to make pancakes with cookie cutters. Don’t take painkillers every day or you will get rebound headaches. You’re not overreacting; your trauma is valid and you’re valid. It wasn’t your fault. Never stop cherishing the North Star because they’re more than a friend; they’re truly a soul mate and never, ever let them forget how amazing they are. It’s okay to be cheesy. Tell people you love and appreciate them whenever you think of it.You don’t need a reason to compliment someone, to encourage someone. Just give positive words because they come to you and you want to offer them to others. You can get as far as you need to in life without fucking other people over. Music is…… beyond measure. Pun intended.