Rant time. Feel free to ignore me haha.
I was going to make this as a profile post but it would be too long. So here I am.
So last night, I finally decided to tell my parents I think I needed professional help again because the last month or so I haven’t been myself and have been feeling very suicidal and attempted a few times.
It took a lot for me to open up to them, because I usually don’t talk to my parents about this stuff because it always ends up the way it did last night. Here’s how our convo went:
Me: So I think I need to see a therapist again or, maybe go spend some time at Talifario(the mental hospital here where I live), because for the last month or so, I haven’t felt safe with myself. I have also tried to kill myself a couple of times...
My mom: *sighs heavily and rolls her eyes* You just need to lose weight. If you weren’t so heavy, you would be happy. And stop trying to act like a fucking teenager. You’re 30 fucking years old, fucking act like it and stop setting a bad example for your kids.
At this point, I am getting irritated and I made eye contact with my dad and he gave me that “just breathe, don’t get mad” look.
Me: Yes, I was happy when I was skinny before...but I was also on meds and they helped some...I’m not acting like a child, I am saying I need help, plus haven’t you been telling me I need help? Every time we get into an argument, the first thing you say is I “need to seek professional help” and here I am, agreeing.
MM: You don’t need help. You’re just trying to get out of taking care of your kids, by getting yourself locked up. Plus, they wouldn’t even take you because they wouldn’t believe the lies you tell. You just need to lose weight and stop sitting on your ass all day.
Me: Omg. Why is everything about my weight? I can’t lose weight when you keep bringing junk food in the house!
MM: You’re the one who buys it.
Me: I FUCKING DON’T. I tell you every goddamn time we go to the store, I’m not buying junk food for the kids, and what do you do? YOU PUT THREE FUCKING BIG BOXES OF BROWNIES IN MY CART BECAUSE RYLAN(my son)NEEDS THEM FOR SCHOOL.
At this point, my mom is calling me an ungrateful child, etc. My dad starts getting on me for “cursing” at my mother. By this time, I am having a full blown panic attack and crying.
“Stop acting like a child. You need to act like your age, lose weight, get a job, get yourself a man, and get on with your life, you’re already ruining your kid’s lives.” My mom says to me.
By this time, I was done. I got up and looked at them. “Fine, I won’t get help. I hope when I eventually die, whether it’s by *******, my eating disorder or something else, I hope you are happy, you want me to lose weight? Fine, don’t cook for me anymore but don’t scream at me when I’m sitting at the dinner table having a panic attack over food. I’m fucking done.”
And today she has been acting all nice to me, as if nothing happened last night. So. I’m done. I won’t get help. I’ll just keep going down the road I am going. I’ll die eventually, I don’t care.