Hello. I have not officially been diagnosed with depression, but intermittently suffer from it nonetheless.
The background was this: I was born to a family filled to the brim with mental illness, addiction, and turbulence. Occasionally genius as well. And I'm no exception: Obsessive-compulsive (but not germophobic) antisocial, hyperactive, anxious, and having a 140+ IQ.
My parents, though terrific in their rearing of me, are absolutely toxic to each other. I can't remember a significant event in my childhood that didn't involve at least one fight. My siblings weren't any better. In short, I lived in a house of poison and fire.
I became afraid of people. Seriously afraid. Being asked to speak directly to a waiter or neighbor was like the death sentence. I was afraid of their hatred and stupidity and judgement, traits I assigned to everyone I wasn't confortable with, which was most of everyone.
This got worse as I became older. My mind worked in different ways then other children, and that dichotomy sent my previous anxiety and fear into spiralling phobia. Meanwhile, my family tried to push me to socialize: cut my hair, put me in nice clothes, tell me what not to say to people, force me into social situations. All they succeeded in doing in the end was surpressing my individuality, which I both hated for the friction it caused and fully embraced in order to seek refuge in audacity. My antisociality and obscenely "different" behavior led people to believe I was socially inept, including myself.
So here I am, 15 years old, afraid of people but dying of loneliness, suffocating from my family's expectation but starving for belief in myself, and trying to be myself while trying to understand what that is. My mother has been studying cosmotology, and said that she wanted to fix my hair. It has a beveled cut, she says, that's for girls. I won't take any length off, I promise. I know you like to grow it out.
She chopped off about three inches. I cried uncontrollably.
edited 9th Oct '11 5:49:48 PM by Aniventerie
Need a tall, brawny fella to come by and inspect your pickle? Perhaps I may be this fella.