3/20/19

10 p.m.

You can't hurt someone and tell them how to feel. I wish I would have never put trust in anyone. I will never get it back.  I keep thinking of my childhood and getting trapped in bad memories that I wish I could forget about. The day my Dad pulled the car over when he was driving me home from seminary is something that will always hurt to remember.
He was yelling at me about my hair pulling. He was mad that I had another bald spot. He made me bend my head down towards him so he could touch my hair and see the bald spot.
I was frozen in fear. I wanted to cry because I was scared and felt alone. He thinks it was something I had control over and that I pulled my hair and eyelashes out on purpose. Both of my parents did.

My mom got so mad once about how big of a bald spot I had. She made me let her take a picture of it with her hand showing the size of it. She said it was as big as a tennis ball.Then she told all the kids upstairs to see how big it was. She printed the pictures out and gave them to me so I could remember how ugly and embarrassing my head was. She treated me very poorly, as if I wanted to have a hair-pulling compulsion. I would never wish that on anyone because it is a terrible disease to have to suffer with. She looked at me with disgust and I stopped ever making eye contact with her because it hurt me to see her face. I'm not going to look at her and see the disappointment in her eyes and how quickly she looks away because she can't stand looking at me most of the time.

I never want my parents to ever say I look pretty or beautiful, because it is only conditionally. I only look good to them if I don't stand out from everyone else. I only look good to them when I look normal or if I look like I'm someone I'm not. There are pieces of me that will always be ugly to them.
I will never be able to fully forgive them or ever love them. They hurt my feelings more frequently than ever having something good to say about me. There will always be something wrong about me and something for them to ridicule me about.
They pretend my struggles don't exist because they are embarrassed to accept my diseases that I have no control over.

As if my illnesses would cease to exist if I pretended they weren't there. They act like every little thing in life is a choice. Depression is not a choice. Addiction is not a choice. Anxiety is not a choice. Autism is not a choice. Trichotillomania is not a choice. My mood swings are not a choice.
I can't choose to be happy when everything inside of me hurts. They can't tell me how to feel when they hurt me the most.

My anxiety has been so bad that I can't stop puking. I just wish it all would go away. All of my thoughts and feelings.