My mom had one of the worst childhoods imaginable.
My brother survived Afghanistan even though some of his friends didn't.
I've been through one tragedy and dealt with it and it was no where near as bad as those others. So why can they deal with it and I can't? I've always prided myself on being strong, not crying, being tough skinned. So why do I always break down? Why do I let these things get to me? Why am I so weak?
I don't want my family's pity or for them to coddle me. I don't want to use depression as an excuse for my behavior. But I don't think it's wrong to ask for some understanding. When I get mad I'm teased relentlessy or just critisized. The thing is though, just because I stopped taking the anti-depressants I still have my bad days. I wish my family could understand that. When they get on my case it only makes things worse. I just want them to back off.
I'm jealous of my sisters. For some reason they're always the ones who do things right and they get things they want. Me; I've transferred twice, am unable to study abroad(money and no programs I'm interested in), and my first boyfriend turned out to be an ass.
My oldest sister did study abroad twice (high school and college) and my twin sister is applying for a 2 week trip to England where she'll get semi-private tours of places like Scotland Yard and Old Baily. My college travel experience
Here are the things I can't say to my family, or anyone I know in person. So, this blog will serve as a confession I guess. I get the irony of calling it that but as I've never been Catholic of gone to confession I hope you'll excuse me.
And without further ado, Confession 1:
Today my sister asked me why I've been so grouchy. She preceded that question by telling me not to take the question the wrong way; something I so often do (really, who doesn't?). My lie was that I wasn't feeling we