Note to Reader: I... I don't know what to say. How to explain. I don't want to apologize. I do that far too often. And I don't want to trash myself for writing this because then I won't post it. All I have to say are these two things: 1.) There is an image as well as a video. The video may be triggering please do not watch it if suicide is a hard subject for you. I did not post that video to upset people or support, feed, encourage, or spread depression or upset anyone else, and, 2.) This... This is a lot. And it's an honest lot but a lot it is. But this is not all there is. Please be aware that my parents are... they can be good too. I made my decision to stick by them and I'm not changing my decision any time soon. Thank you all for the support and I hope that I do not worry you too much. Have a swell day for me since I will not be able to.

Warnings: Domestic abuse, physicality, man handling, self hate, mental abuse, cursing, helplessness, depression... self harm. Again. I'm sorry. There's a lot here. Ugh I can't even name it all. Heaven I'm sorry it's  been such a bad time for me...

—

My parents are not always bad.

I'm fact, they can be quite amazing. Moments of goodness explode in wonderful color and I cling to those moments in my memory like a starving man clings to food or a cancer patient clings to life or a single mother clings to her child when her child is all she has left.

Times full of fun and laughter and smiles and joy.

Times like when my step dad - my dad, for all intent and purpose and all that matters - and I are driving somewhere. It can be to the store. It can be driving me to school, super early in the morning, at the beginning of the year when I was on Shakespeare Team and had to be at my school super early in the morning and the only way I could was to go with him and be practically an hour early. He'd let me sit in the car as long as possible before I dashed into the cold and sat there, without a phone, desperately doing anything to pass the time. But before he dropped me off he played music and we cracked jokes. A few mornings we'd roll the windows down and let the cold sting our faces as I laughed and he turned the music up and we grinned at each other, awake beyond previously perceived ability even before the sun has risen into the sky. And then, when the sun did come up, that dark blue bursted with yellows and oranges and pinks and reds and it was a canvas of magic and beauty in the sky and it light my face up and made everything happier and brighter and a million times more wonderful.

Times like when my dad took me hiking and we both chugged our water almost gone on the way up there so that when we got on the actual five mile hike up and back, we ran out of water before even getting to our destination. It was hot and we were completely out of energy and we grew completely silent as we swayed and stepped hard and thank whatever God was listening that my mother had been genius enough to pack us each a little container of applesauce - and an extra little container as well, which we shared. A time where I thought I was going to die and my dad desperately begged me not to give out because he didn't know if he could carry me to the car. Once we got to the end of the trail we looked at each other, eyes wide, on the verge of throwing up, overheated and exhausted and coming down from a terror high where we were scraping by to survive. And we grinned. We grinned so wide it hurt and he weakly pat my back and we got in the car and drove to the nearest water source. Mom would yell at us for weeks after and she would never truly let it go... But every time we though of it it would serve as a reminder on how we'd MADE IT. Despite everything, we'd DONE IT. And we were here to tell the tale. And never until that day nor since have I been so completely and wonderfully happy to be alive, nor felt so amazing and accomplished for simply making it.

Times like when I'm breaking down and my dad comes and pulls me to my feet, holding me tightly as if I will shatter and break apart if he lets go. As if he himself alone is holding me together. He holds me long and tight and doesn't let me let go even though I feel insecure and believe that, like most people, after a few seconds he will want me to let go. But he doesn't let go. He holds on for dear life and whispers tender words of love and care into my ear.

Times when I am sleep deprived and my dad has to wake me up in the morning so instead of viciously rolling me out of bed or ripping my blankets off or kicking me or yelling until I'm awake or being nasty, he sits on the edge of my bed and whispers in my ear. Or turns the light on and watches me writhe, laughing because he's such an ultimate troll. Or he will sit next to me and tickle me lightly and teasingly until I wiggle myself awake, because he knows how horribly ticklish I am. He does it softly and gently and lovingly because he knows what it's  like to want to not be alive and to want to slip into sleep again where I can pretend I do not exist.

And my mom... Well, she cooks and cleans for me. Tries to be gentle and patient and listen. She's been getting better. She's been softer and more attentive. She still could use some work but she is here and around and she is trying her hardest and you know what that is more than some other mothers have done. She hasn't left me or given up on me and she still has faith in me and steps up for me when she knows I'm right and vouches for me and tries to calm dad down when he's mad and she's aware of my ED and even though she doesn't handle it too well she does her best. Damn whoever says that isn't all I can ask of her to give.

Some days they are good. Some days they are kind and reach out and take my hand as I grapple desperately for someone - anyone. Some days they are there to fight my demons with... or for, me.

Other days... Other days they are the demons that I am fighting.

This was one of those days.

"What the hell is WRONG with you?"

My hands went into my hair, tangling into the very roots, scraping hard against my scalp as I desperately tugged, using the physical pain to distract against the emotional agony as I fought to keep my mouth shut and lay down, taking the harsh words that dug into my skin and sunk into my bones, creating crators in my very soul and mind, sapping my might and energy and strength and will to move or breathe or-

"DEIDRA!"

I flinched.

"What is wrong with you? Talk to me!"

"I..." I tried to say I was okay. I tried to force the words past my lips and into that cold, sharp air, heavy with tension and anger and building screams that would come as everyone got more and more angry.

Nothing came out.

"WELL?"

"I... I..."

"What exactly is so bad about your life that you're having a fuckingg mental break down right now?!"

"I..." my eyes burned and stung as tears gathered and I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to keep them in and locked up and away from sight.

"You need to learn how to deal with everyday problems, Dee. You can't just shut down."

"M-may I please have my phone back? So that I can text Quint. I-or just listen to music? As I do my homework?"

"No. No you blew up earlier and if you want your phone back, you're going to do your homework first."

"But- But I was doing my homework on my phone. And then you took it."

"I didn't want you to be distracted," my father snapped.

"I... What? I was doing my homework."

"Until you weren't."

"You took my phone away for something that I COULD have done?"

"I took your phone away for something that you routinely and repeatedly do over and over again. You have proven to me that you cannot have your phone without getting distracted."

"That was last semester. I told you I was going to do better this-"

"I don't want to hear it, Deidra."

"No, I'm trying to say-"

"Load the dishwasher," my mom interrupted. "And then when you're done you can have dad's iPad and you can do your homework. If you stop giving attitude now then maybe you can have your phone back after."

I was stunned. Dead stunned. I stood there, staring at them with wide eyes and a dropped jaw like a fish.

"What?" My mother snapped.

There was so much I wanted to say. She wanted me to clean something?

Could I at least have music first? I'm fighting you guys to do my homework? You haven't even given me a chance to prove that I was telling the truth when I said I was going to change this semester. You didn't let me say anything. You won't listen. You only listen when I'm okay and you only care when I'm okay. Do you jut want me around so that you can have house cleaning help? Is that all I'm good for?

All those words stuck in my troat thought, and many others. Many other, more logical, more sensical, more straight forward calls for help that would have worked so much better than what I said - all stayed in my head. They all hid in the dark and clung to the corners, digging their nails into the walls of my brain so that I lost my grip and flew back, pushing other words out of my mouth instead. Other, far less useful words.

"Why do you make me hate myself?"

"We don't make you hate yourself, Diedra. You simply take it that way. You allow yourself to hate yourself. You make yourself hate yourself. You can control those feelings. But you're not."

I snapped. I stared blankly ahead as I moved away and past my parents, ignoring their screams and calls of rage as I slipped into my room, locked the door behind me, and planted my fist hard into the wall closest to me.

"DON'T YOU DARE HIT THAT FUCKING WALL DEIDRA!"

Not 'Are you okay?' Not 'Don't hurt yourself!' Not 'Be careful!' or 'That's dangerous!'

'Don't hit the wall you unimportant moron, what the fuck?'

That's how those words sounded to me. The wall mattered. Not you. The wall. Don't hit it, you're goig to break it.

I sunk to my bed and didn't move again for a solid hour.

Even after they came into my room. Even after they yelled and poked and prodded and insulted me. Even after they pulled me apart. Even after they took my access away to everything. I only moved again when I melted down and hit the wall a few more times. Then I ended up not doing my homework and cleaning off the table and loading the dishwasher.

And once I'd done those chores, despite my lack of completed homework and my earlier attitude, everything was okay again. For now. Because I was cleaning and it didn't matter how bad I was feeling, if I was cleaning then everything wasn't okay...

-

"Don't be weird in your date with Quint tonight."

A date. With Quint. I'd been looking forward to it all week. So had he. We were going skating and I was going to get to see him again after the two and a half week break and the two days of exploded passion between us when we came back to school before we left for the weekend again. I was going to get to hold his hand and maybe steal a kiss or two and just be a teenage girl with a teenage boy and sit in happiness and not worry.

"Don't be weird on your date with Quint."

I'd done my hair all nice and out gotten into my outfit and gone through every single hygiene problem prevention I could think of. I brushed my teeth twice. I was scrambling for last second things and then soon, SOON, I'd see him and everything would be okay again because I would have two perfect hours either skating or sitting off to the side. He was sick. But I didn't mind. I just had I see him. That's all I cared about.

"Don't be weird on your date with Quint tonight."

If only she knew. If only she'd  been there. Been there when he finally kissed me after so long of so much anticipation. If she'd felt how it felt to be there with him as he touched everywhere he could. My back, my calf, my knees, the side of my leg, my face, my neck, my arms, my hands- If she knew what it was like to be there with him as he kissed me, hard and urgent, like I mattered. Then she wouldn't have said that.

"Don't be weird on your date with Quint tonight."

What even was weird? Not normal? What was normal? It didn't matter what she said. It didn't matter what she thought. This night was going to be perfect. Everything was lined up and her words could affect me because soon I'd hear his words. See his smile. Join in his laugh. I'd be around him and I'd get the time to recooperate from that far too long break before the Hell Week for this play I didn't even want to be in anymore. I was so done with Cinderella but I'd made a promise and that's all that mattered right now. I had made a promise and I'd keep it. But that was next week and next week didn't matter.

"Don't be weird on your date with Quint tonight."

My mom dropped me off and I slipped out and anyway from her painful words, ignoring them. Going on this wonderful date. I showed up. Everyone was there, except Quint and another boy. I texted the other boy and finally figured out that he wasn't coming. He'd thought that the date was NEXT weekend. Whatever. Quint was coming. Soon. Any moment. Any single moment.

"Don't be weird on your date with Quint tonight."

Okay so he wasn't returning my texts. At all. That's not suspicious. He was driving or going to surprise me. Any second he was going to call me or text that he was here or come up behind me and be the dork he is. Or something. Soemthing. One of the things that raced through my mind as I waited for my perfect night to start would happen. My creative cheesiness would come through, this one time. Out my back to the door. That way I won't see him when he comes in. Or if he doesn't. Stop checking my phone. That way I can say that I didn't spend all night on my phone so I won't see the text that tells me he's here. Or that he isn't coming. That he couldn't make it. No. No. He's coming. He's coming. He's... He's...

"Don't be weird on your date with Quint tonight."

I wasn't even mad at him. I was disappointed he didn't come, but when I looked back at the texts I realized that I'd made it seem like I didn't want him to come. I'd been so focused on if he was okay and making sure he knew he didn't have to come in case he was really sick that I hadn't even thought. I'd been so concerned with taking away the pressure of him having to come just because I wanted him to come that I hadn't even realized. I was such a moron... What the crap? Why would I do that? Would he have come if I'd been less motherly and more... girlfriend-y? Would this continue, with me overthinking so much that I'd just push him away all together?

"Don't be weird on your date with Quint tonight."

"Don't worry mom. I wasn't weird. I didn't even get the chance to be."

What made me mad was her words. How they stuck with me. Clung to me. Was I being weird? Too pushy? Over insistant? Was I not thinking about what I was doing enough? Not seeing all the angles? Or was I thinking too much? Being so paranoid and seeing so many possibilities that I was creating ones that weren't even there to begin with?

Was this being weird?

Was I being weird even wi5out being on the date?

...All because my mom asked me one question.

Fuck.

—

"He doesn't seem to want to be in a relationship."

Or-

"I don't know, he seems flakey."

Or-

"He doesn't seem to like you, Deidra."

Or-

"You need to back off."

Or-

"Give him space."

Or-

"You're going to scare him off."

Or-

"You're being too available, Deidra."

Or-

"You're friends with his ex still? That's weird..."

Or the worst of all:

"He reminds me of Tony..."

Tony was my mom's old boyfriend, from when I was SUPER little. He lead her on for two years, never admitting he was with her to his parents and never officalizing them because he was too much of a mama's boy. And his parents didn't approve of her, because she wasn't Mexican. They were best friends and he lived in Cali while she lived in Vegas but it was constant FaceTiming and texting and calling because they missed each other so much. H was super intune with what she was feeling when and could tell that she was off just by reading her texts or hearing her voice when they called. She didn't even have to point it out. Then she found out he was cheating on her, leading her along on a string because he was too emotionally attached to let go but too much of a mama's boy to actually dedicate himself to her. I remember, even being so small, climbing in bed with her as she sobbed, clinging to her pillows, trying to hold it in so I wouldn't hear in the other room. I remember the sadness that emitted from her so strongly that I could practically taste it. I remember clinging to her and wondering what in the world had made my so unbreakable, so strong mother break down. I remember that time because it's what knocked me out of my kiddiness and made my mom my friend instead of my mom. Seeing her so broken and destroyed was what started me on the path that I was on now. It made me comfortable with adults, knowing they were human too. It was something I wished more than anything to reverse. Give myself a childhood. Give adults space from me. Give myself friends my age and some stability with myself. And, above anythigne else, I wished with all of me and everyone and everything and MORE that I could take that pain away from my mom.

To think that Quint had even the most MINOR similarity to Tony...

It wouldn't be such a big deal if they weren't so busy tearing me down and questioning Quint and pointing out every single flaw of our relationship - whatever that relationship was. Not to mention that I was already insecure about it and they were dealing low blows and hitting me where it hurt the most. Where I was weakest. Stabbing a blade in the biggest chink in my armor and twisting.

It was too easy to feed my insecurities and they fed them too often.

Heavy sigh.

—

Okay look I get it. I did a REALLY bad thing by being so crappy about school last sememester. I ditched class and didn't do homework and don't try and it's a private school. It was expensive to send me to this school. The kind of expensive that out us at a really hard place and was hard for us to keep up.

I get it.

Oh my gosh how I do.

I'm wracked with guilt and beat myself up for it CONSTANTLY.

That's why I promised not to mess up this semester.

I'm sorry I'm so messed up and depressed and easily effected by everything. I'm sorry I'm not strong and determined and loyal and unbreakblae as I should be. I'm sorry I give up too easily and loose hope too quickly. I'm sorry I'm so quick to please and slow to stand up for myself. I'm sorry I'm so washed out and dull. I'm sorry that when when I'm not consumed by depression, I'm hyper and easily entertained and loud and annoying. I'm sorry I'm so... so... I'm sorry I'm so many other things - every other thing - except hat you want me to be. What you think I should be.

I'm sorry I'm a disappointment.

I'll try to get better. I'm trying, now. I'm getting better, in a lot of ways. Improving and trying harder and everything. Fighting to fit all of your expectations and rising to meet all your standards.

I'm trying. I really am.

I'm fighting all my insecurities and depression and ED and anxieties and all the other crap I've gathered up over the year. 

Until then, though.... I get it.

I'm the accident kid my mom never wanted, who tied me to the man she never wanted to stay awith, forcing her to remember a time in her life she wanted to leave behind and forget.

I put my mom through Hell raising me, as a single mom, in college, trying to do everything in her power to care for this kid she never wanted but now loved more than anything and therefore would do anything for.

I grew up to be a complete piece of shit. I snap at you and trash myself and throw away money and my life and any chances of a good future that I receive. I'm complete garbage and overly emotional and easily enetertained and too quick to be into someone and then once I am into them, I move things too fast. I get my heart broken again and again over things you warned me about and could have EASILY been avoided altogether and I make you work harder than you should have to. I stress you out and pull you thin and push you away and then get mad when you're not right by my side.

I'm...

I...

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I'm not as good of a daughter as you deserve.

I'm sorry that I make you so angry and push you so far and so often that you snap so violently.

I'm sorry that I'm not good enough. Or... or at all, really.

I'm sorry....

I'm sorry that...

That I'm...

I'm sorry I'm a disappointment.