Fatigue. Feelings of worthlessness. Pessimism. Insomnia. Irritability. Loss of interest in activities. Overeating. Persistent aches and pains. Persistent feelings of sadness. Thoughts of suicide. These are several of the symptoms of clinical depression.

Sweating. Hypervigilance. Racing thoughts. Fear. Sense of impending doom. Trembling. These are several of the symptoms of an anxiety disorder.

I have been presenting a vast majority of these symptoms since I was in grade school.   And for just as long my immediate family has ignored or berated me for those symptoms instead of constructively dealing with the problem.  Whenever the symptoms overtook me, I was yelled at for being lazy,stubborn, annoying, useless. Never once did they even consider treatment. And the couple times I broke, lashed out, and made a cry for help, they reacted with denial and anger, completely ignoring the problem, responding with violence, or trying to throw me out of their lives.

And that’s the main reason I’m constantly angry at my family.  They had twenty years to help me figure out how to deal with my problems, but instead threw me aside when I got to be too much to handle. And now that I’m out on my own and struggling to figure out all this depression and anxiety and gender stuff by myself, all that pent up anger and frustration that I held in out of fear for my life is coming out.

Anxiety over wearing clothes typically worn by their sex.  Wanting to take part in activities typical of the opposite sex. Preferring to play with the opposite sex. Feelings of severe distress at the physical changes of puberty. Hoping that their genitals will change. Persistent fantasies of being the opposite sex. Isolation and rejection from peers in social interaction. These are several of the symptoms of gender identity disorder.

Symptoms I displayed but mainly hid while I was growing up.   Symptoms I would have shared had my family handled my other issues better.

Sick of it

I don’t write this blog for anyone but myself.  I use this as a medium to vent my own frustrations and detail my own personal struggles.  I only put it out there for others so that you all can see what’s going through my brain.  It’s my way to show you what I’m going through, what I’m dealing with, what I’m thinking about, what I’m struggling over.  Because written word is the only way I can find to effectively communicate it all after years and years of having to suppress my deepest feelings.

And every time I write a post like the one I did yesterday, I get some angry, condescending note from someone else in my family.  They want me to stop writing my feelings out.  They want me to show some respect for them.  They want to guilt trip me either for themselves or on the behalf of others.

I’m sick of it.  I’m sick them seeing it as personal affronts and taking offense to it rather than actually making the changes I want to see out of them.  I’m sick of having to write the same crap over and over about my family because they can’t be assed to actually care about how I feel.  I’m sick of seeing them continue to sit on their high horses, completely ignoring my own emotions.

This blog isn’t something full of sunshine and rainbows meant to make everyone feel better about themselves, and it isn’t ever going to be. Furthermore, the blog is going to continue to be much of the same until I feel safe and comfortable, which I don’t amongst my own blood relations, let alone the rest of the world.  If you want me to stop bitching about my family, then fucking do something about it.  Accept me.  Understand me.  Try to learn.  Stop being self-righteous pricks.  Treat me like the person I am, not the person you want me to be.  A majority of the rest of the world has.  And if you can’t, then grow some skin or get out.

I’m an Ungrateful Person

All my life I’ve been told that I’ve never been grateful for anything I’ve ever gotten.  I only care about my family when it most benefits me.  I’m never satisfied with anything I’m given.  I can’t see the good in anything.  I’m never happy with anything or anyone.

Well, for the most part,  that’s completely true.  I’m pretty ungrateful of most of what I’ve been given.  But really, what do I have to be grateful for?

My education?  Sure, my four years at Rose-Hulman were some of my best.  Almost all of my closest friends come from that time period.  But now that I’m out, those four years hang the heaviest on my head.  Those four years turned into a ton of debt, three years of extra wasted time trying to get into an industry I never should have had people push me into, and an endless supply of anxiety, sleep issues, and obsessive-compulsive tendencies from trying to deal with the pressures of the workload.  All for a little piece of paper that I’m probably never going to have use for again.

My family?  Okay, so they’ve mostly supported me financially for most my life.  But their ideals and pressures are what pushed me into the predicament I’m in now.  They were the source for that constant pressure to be a successful son with his wife and two and a half kids living in Suburbia with my engineering job working 80 hours a week for $100k a year.  And along with that came the feelings of disappointment and contempt any time I strayed even a bit from that pipe dream, even if it was what was actually making me happy.  Oh, and don’t forget the demands for me to be civil and interested in their lives when, aside from a select few, they’ve never really been civil or interested in mine.

My life?  I’ve been contemplating whether that’s actually been any good since its inception.  And although sometimes things seem to be getting better, this fifteen-year battle with depression continues to make me second-guess whether all this has been worth it.

So really, what do I have to be grateful for?  The things I do like about my life I’ve almost entirely gotten on my own.  And what I haven’t has come at such a great cost.  I mean, I guess I’ve at least learned what I don’t want with my life.