Depression Monologue pt.1

I wrote some of this a couple years ago, and then while I felt like I was on a roll, and I couldn’t keep them up because I wasn’t able to handle  the criticism that came from the source I was talking about.

Now I know better and I want my story heard.

I was created by an abuser and a drug addict. The abuser did what abusers do while the drug addict was pregnant. She decided to adopt me out because she feared for her life. She tells me know it was because she had already dealt with several abusive people and she didn’t want to be trapped by another one. But at the same time also telling me that I was definitely “wanted”.  She swears she wasn’t on drugs while pregnant, idk. She has all the “right” reasons as to why she adopted a baby out, but all I see is a weak ass person who couldn’t save themselves for the sake of their children. I do mean children plural because she has two other kids, who are older than me, and who have had to live lives of fear and abuse just to get to where they are now. The only problem I had when I found all this out, was I thought (at the time) that nothing I had gone through was abuse. The biggest caveat of abuse is there are different severity levels, but it all does the same thing in the brain.

I was adopted at 4 days old, somehow they were able to adopt to the Mothership’s family, her sister. Now, keep this in mind while reading all this, at this time of my life I have feelings of remorse towards the Christine that didn’t know about abuse, PTSD, CPTSD, and Depression. But here we are, and when I get into that pattern of thinking, I have to remind myself why this work is important.

ADOPTION IS TRAUMA.


I was adopted at four days old and I was adopted into my motherships family by her sister
A lot of people will say that I had it a lot better than other people just because of that simple fact that I didn’t have to go find my family. I guess you could say that’s right.
I don’t feel any different than other adoptees though everything Ive read about adoptees, we all share the same hole in our soul where a mother should be.
So the initial loss of mother is super traumatic for babies and it can take only 45 minutes of separation from a mother to for baby to feel complete despair. So.
At that point when our brains get into that space they just can’t cope with the fact that the one thing that they were supposed to be able to rely on isn’t there anymore?


So there’s year one of my initial depression. It probably could have got better if I had proper supports throughout my life time. But I don’t think that that was ever going to be a possibility because of the amount of selfish acts that have been bestowed upon me from my adoptive mom. She will tell you every day that she loves me more than anything else on the planet and that I’m the only reason why she’s happy and all this stuff well she puts a lot of fucking responsibility on me to make her happy when it is entirely her own.. I just got into therapy this year and I found out that um,
I’m not wrong in being super mad at my mom all the time. I’m actually living through all my past trauma that I’ve stuffed down and it’s really hard because now my kids are seeing me go through this and I really hope that they just think that I’m hella strong I guess because I don’t want them to think that I wasn’t doing all of this for them.
I mean, some of it’s for me because it’s healing, you know, that’s just the cathartic I guess but I just want my kids to know that I really do love them. I don’t want them to feel like I do as an adult or like how other adults feel that all of their parents actions were governed by their own selfish desires as opposed to trying to be better for their children that they brought into the world.
So when I sit around and think about what I want to write it’s everything, it’s always pain it’s always that’s something I want you guys to hear and feel because this isn’t a joke for me this is my life.
The first time I got told that I had depression was by my mom at around 12 years old, she had said something along the lines of you’ve always had depression and I don’t remember really anything else. I have a really terrible memory from my childhood but if I’ve always had depression then why weren’t you getting me help for that instead?
She was always trying to get me to take some weird herbal remedies that didn’t help. You know, you really can’t cover up depression without getting to the root of it you really can’t and if you’re not willing to get to the roots of it, then you’re gonna be on prescription medications the rest of your life. (you know, unless you acutally have to maintain life saving medications)
It’s hard work people.
This is a fight every single day for me to stay alive because there’s a part of me that wants me dead and that part of me scares me so much but it all stems from the things. I’ve had to endure as a child and it just baffles me that more people aren’t given a little bit more leeway about this kind of stuff when they’re just allowing these people to treat these kids this way after knowing that it’s causing psychological damage, so. I’m super over it.
I don’t even know if I’m gonna be able to fix myself, but I know that I’m giving the tools to my children to help themselves earlier than Me like I didn’t start helping myself until my mid to late twenties and I feel. Like late to the party because of that so I want to make sure my kids have the tools they need to sort through their traumas because they are obviously getting.
Before they get to the point of adulthood that it doesn’t make sense anymore and it’s really hard because it’s gonna be really hard anyway, but it’s not that. It’s less hard when you’re not fighting the solidification of your neural pathways.


I remember one of the first times I ever felt depressed it was right after my mom brought home so diet pills and got really excited about trying them she was really overweight at the time and was trying a bunch of different stuff to try to not be so overweight anymore, but she was telling me about how I was super overweight and I needed to do that stuff too, so I ended up using diet pills and trying to do some of this stuff my mom was doing but you know, I was a kid I wasn’t trying to actually do any of that stuff. I was just trying to be a kid so that was one of the first times I remember her telling me I was depressed after not taking the meds, I felt really low and I didn’t know why but, looking back now,
I have been depressed my entire life. I have had this hole and pit of my soul and I cannot  escape from it.
The next significant time was when I was a teenager and you know how teenagers are they’re all moody because of their hormones and stuff so I’m a moody teenager but I’m also depressed I’m depressed because I’m not realizing the amount of actual abuse I was suffering because I didn’t know anything about it at the time so I’m not even gonna try to make myself feel bad about not knowing anything back then because how could I?
.. I just want to stop talking for a minute. Some of this might bounce around a little bit and that’s okay. (im using a transcribe to get these thoughts down, im leaving this here to show that, just in case my editing misses something from the transcription.)


One of my earliest memories that causes me pain to this day is a fight that my parents had and I think the reason why it causes me pain is because when I brought it up as an older person to try to sort out my feelings from that night, my mom got super defensive swore that that never happened that I was imagining things and that was that. And that was one of the pinnacle moments in my life that I realized my mom wasn’t gonna help me with anything anymore and she was gonna call me a liar about my own memory. Six months later. I decided to start doing some more research into what the fuck was going on.
I really was looking at myself because everything I had been told leads me to believe that everything was in with within my own control and that if anything was wrong, it was entirely my fault.
So as a young adult, I took it all upon myself and it wasn’t until I was like fuck. I don’t know like 28 that I had to do some random ass Google search after an encounter with my mom and my exact search was, “Why doesn’t my mother love me?”
I had to ask Google that question. And it still makes me tear up to this day. The thing is, I really didn’t think that she didn’t love me at the time because I didn’t know anything different. But when I actually started to look into reasons why she was doing what she was doing? Led me to believe that my mom is a narcissist, her neural pathways have solidified into narcissism and she governs herself for herself and with little regard to anyone else’s self.
I’ve had to block her from my social media and I try not to talk to her very much now because when I do it’s super painful and she doesn’t help me. She doesn’t help validate my pain that I’ve gone through but she wants validation for her pain and whenever I try to talk to her about the kind of pain that I’ve had from my childhood, she turns it around to where it was either all my fault or absolutely not her fault.
A couple times she’s actually told me well, there’s nothing I can do that at now you need to deal with it. So it’s just really difficult going through that kind of stuff even  if you don’t have somebody who’s invalidating you constantly.
I mentioned before, last time I wrote this stuff out I actually had commenters commenting and I think they were actually commenting on behalf of my mom because of some of the things they said literally hit me straight to my core and it the only person that could say stuff like that is my mom so I ended up deleting all those posts because I couldn’t handle the backlash I guess of someone not appreciating my standpoint of my own life and then I’m realizing now a few years later that what fucking bullshit is that she came up on my depression monologue and decided to tell me I was wrong again about how I am depressed and why or where it comes from.
And now I don’t have any sympathy for her. I don’t give a fuck if she feels bad she should feel bad. She didn’t take the necessary precautions or steps to try to be a better parent all the time, she literally just did what she had to do to get by and now she’s an old lady and she thinks that she did well.


And I have news for her.


I remember when I was like 15 to maybe 14 to. 18. I was super confused and yeah a lot of it was hormones. I couldn’t sleep most of the time. I stayed up all night.
I’d stay up all day. I would take naps in classes. Just thinking about it now that the depression I had then was way less than the depression I have now and I have worse depression now because I have not been able to address it until now.
There’s been several times in my life where I had moments that I felt like I knew more than my own mom. And not in a sense of everyday knowledge or not a knowledge only teenagers would know as opposed to adults, you know, not that kind of stuff. I’m talking about like I felt more mature than my mom at 15 and it showed in some of our conversations and the way that she communicated with me.
When I had talked to my dad about it, he confirmed it but told me not to talk to her about it because he thinks that she isn’t able to handle it. So it’s something that he knew about but he wasn’t going to talk to me about it unless I brought it up to him, you know.

I  get it, if my mom was hella depressed and couldn’t fucking help herself but she got herself into therapy and got herself on the meds and still consistently made our lives like we were all living on eggshells constantly. And it was our responsibility that she wasn’t happy. The reason why I believe that is because she still tells me to this day that I’m the only reason why she’s happy so she literally put her happiness in the responsibility of other people.
So. Now when I’m going through all of this stuff, I don’t even want to talk to her about it because I know she’s going to invalidate me and that after that encounter. I’m going to feel even worse than I did before because when someone invalidates you for the way you feel or the memories you remember it puts you down into a little hole and it’s really hard to get out.
So one of the first Instances I remember being depressed was this was maybe a couple years after or year after that fight  I was telling you about that my mom tells me never happened anyway that fight was really scary for me as a kid. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything really like that up to that point.
I guess I don’t really know. I probably had because my parents did fight a lot anyway. One of the most traumatic things for my childhood besides getting adopted was that fight and then I don’t even know how much time had passed but my mom. I think we were living in a different house but my mom had gotten into argument with my dad and then told everybody she was leaving and never coming back.
I don’t know what she was expecting like was she expecting my dad to act like me who was not consolable fucking the entire time she was gone but then she came in and talked to me and I thought I felt better but I know now I never felt better she’s never been a stable person for me, she’s always threatened to leave me.
Always and I already had one mom just completely not give a fuck enough to want to raise me, so that feels extra awful. So she threatens to leave whenever she gets upset and you know that went on for years and  I kind of became numb to it, but it always hurt me whenever she threatened to leave.
Well as the years went on she I guess she realized that that wasn’t working anymore and then went to threatening to kill herself but she would only do that when she felt like she wasn’t getting her way. I know now why she probably did it but it doesn’t make it right because I’m not running around telling my kids that kind of shit like I told my kids.
I don’t want to be here that my life sucks, but that’s how I feel and I tell them that’s how I feel and has nothing to do with them, it’s all me, I have a mental illness and I don’t know what it is, so. When we get to that point that me figuring out what it is, then we’re gonna figure out whether or not you guys have it because if you guys have it and if I ignore that I’m no good no better than my own mom.
So at one point in my teenage years, she had taken me to her own therapist because of finding my hate page in my journal. Now this was just one of those days, I came home from school and school was always awful. And I kind of knew there was something weird going on but when I walked up to the house, my mom was in the kitchen with the window open like she was waiting for me to come home and I felt in immediate sense of dread.
And then she started screaming at me about my journal as if it was something wrong which then she took me to her therapist because she swore to God I was demonic or whatever. I don’t know what she really thought. I’m not even trying to put thoughts in her head or words in her mouth, but she acted like I was just the worst I guess because she took me to her therapist with the journal and some comics that I had. (Johnny the homicidal maniac).
The therapist asked me about the comics, he asked me why I read them? I told him. I felt they were interesting. I really don’t have any homicidal tendencies but I really just thought that the idea was funny and some of the concepts inside of the comment comic itself are really deep and I enjoy reading something that has more substance than romance novels. To which he decided to reply that that was totally fine. I got validated by a therapist at 15 because my mom was telling him I was crazy but it wasn’t me it was fucking her.
So then he talks to me about my journal and my journaling was what most journaling is talking about all the things and emotions or happenings, and I had a page in my journal that was called the hate page and I had a titled hate page at the top and within that page content was a bunch of scribbles and on it.
I wrote I hate my mom and then scribbled over the top of it with whatever I had at the time, so if I was hating my mom at the time or really, Mad at her whatever I would go into that page and just let it all out on it on that page so you couldn’t really see that it said I hate my mom because of how much hate was on top of it but like you could tell it was directed towards someone but I put it in a book, it’s a safe place to keep those really big emotions, right?
That’s what the therapist thought also so then he asked me if I had any concerns or questions for him because now we realize that I’m not the crazy one. I’m just a teenager having to deal with this crazy lady. And I told him my mom constantly threatens to kill herself and she tells me she’s going to take handfuls of pills and he teared up he had this look on his face like.
I don’t even know.
So basically part of my coping is now getting all this stuff back out because since my teenage years. I’ve just kept it in. I stopped journaling. I can’t bring myself to do it anymore. I’m constantly worried that someone’s going to fucking find it and read it and come at me again and that’s just silly because I know better I know that journaling super healthy and, That will make me feel a lot better more often than not but at the same time fuck I’m scarred.

That’s kind of what this blog is about. I really want to turn this into the journal I need for my life but I find a lot find having a hard time actually sitting down at the computer it runs really slow so now I’m going to try to do this transcript thing where I just talk to the phone and then I’ll upload all this wordage to my email and then send it to me and then I’ll just edit it and post it and I think that might actually work out a lot easier than trying to hand type all this stuff out because I’m not good at typing.
I’m not good at writing and I don’t like doing it hurts my hands, so I have a really hard time doing it long term.
I think this is going to be the end of part one because I don’t really have anything else to say. I feel pretty good about what I’ve said so far and I don’t care what anybody has to say into the contrary about my own personal feelings because how on earth are you able to tell me how the fuck I feel?
If you’re reading this this far, I love you. I wish you the best regardless of what you wish me because we should all just get the best from every person we encounter. Because nobody deserves to get treated like crap just because of something that happened to you before you encountered that person and most people are not retrospective enough to be able to pinpoint why they’re even upset so they just are snapping at random people all the time.
So with that being said, I love you all. I hope you all have a great day and stay safe out there.

Published by Bonemomma

This year I am 30 somthing, mother of two, wife, lover of skeletons, practicing emotional intelligence. Every day is another day to be better than you were yesterday. With all the information available, why not learn to be whatever it is you feel you lack?

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