Last week I had a consultation with a therapist from a local  mental health facility.

There is something wrong with me. I am not sure if it is depression or anxiety. All I know is that I wake up every morning with out fail wanting to be dead. I want to be dead because I feel my life has no meaning or purpose and others could benefit from the fact I am an organ donor. This has been happening for years. I am not at any risk because I do not have any plan set to end my own life. This is simply a thought I have every morning, like how some people think “Oh do I need to pack a lunch?”, “What time is that appointment today?” , “What should I make for dinner?”, etc.

Scary right? Of course it is. Does it make you, the reader, uncomfortable? Then you should stop reading.

In the brief meeting with my therapist, we discovered what could very well be the root of my issues.

Did you know it is a shit idea to have children ignore their bullies?
Did you know it’s a shit idea for the school system to give bullies simply 3 days of in school suspension for tormenting an innocent children?
Did you know it’s a shit idea to not try helping that child being bullied rebuild their confidence?

I was 12 or 13. I was in junior high, I know that much. There was a boy. He was popular. I was not. I was smarter than him. I lived in a trailer park. I should not have been smarter than him because of this, his logic. So for eight hours a day for a full school year, I was told by this boy that I was fat, ugly, and stupid.

He. Is. Responsible.

If I could find this boy now…. I would have choice words for him. Mostly I’d break his jaw.

He wound up getting three days worth of suspension and had to write an apology note. I did not get to keep the note. My parents did nothing to help rebuild my confidence.

I am not looking forward to discussing my parents in great detail with my therapist. I know they screwed up. I know they are trying to fix it now. But the fact remains is that THEY contributed to me needing to see a therapist. So there’s a bitterness towards them. I was hurting when I was younger. Where was the push for me to get help then?

I have already brought up two of my exes. Looking at you, Dan and Corey.
Dan because I thought he was the one (he even sobbed when he broke up with me that I was his best friend) and after two and a half years he leaves me because “when was the last time we enjoyed sex together”. So for all our mutual friends reading this, please know that’s the kind of person my ex Dan is. He couldn’t have discussed it a year into the relationship or sooner. No. He waited two and a half years.
Corey because well Corey is a fuck-up. A gorgeous gorgeous fuck-up. He cheated on me with his ex whom screamed she hated him and was a cutter.

Congratulations fellows. You two pushed me over the edge.

 

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