Read When Life Gives You Lemons....

Read A Little About My Journey

Hi Friends,

My name is Ash. I've been struggling with mental illness for as long as I can remember. In my early formative years, I was controlled by my severe anxiety. As a kid, I was so anxious that most days I couldn't even sit out in the grass with out having tantrums over getting dirty or being bit by the bugs. I was terrified that I would be allergic to anything and everything I ate, after I had a reaction to raspberries, and if there was dust, I was too paranoid that I would stay up for hours cleaning and dusting, all as a six year old. I wouldn't step out of sight of my dad if a stranger was near, nor would I talk to someone who I hadn't known for at least a week.

Now that I am almost 17, I continue to struggle with mental illness. For the past five years, I have struggled with depression, suicidal thoughts progressing to attempted action, self harm, and manic outbursts.

It is really hard to control emotions, some days. Life is so hard and scary and unfair. My life is all of the above plus more.

I grew up in a dysfunctional family. My dad is the greatest man in the entire world, and I know he would do anything for me and my sisters. My oldest sister, Nellie, is basically my mom. She got married when I was in fifth grade. Zack, her husband, was basically my brother. I had grown up with him that way. Unfortunately, earlier this year, my sister and him got a divorce. Zack was unfaithful and abusive. He treated her unfairly and stole from her after the divorce. Because of him, I lost my dog and piano. Nellie has been doing good. She's always strong, and it's hard to see her put on a front all the time. She does it for me, though. She needs to raise me. And that's what she's been doing for several years, alongside my dad. 

My other sister and I never became close until almost a year ago. She was getting ready to move, and I was just starting to realize the impact she had on my life. We began to understand each other, the closer she got to moving. She moved away too soon. I loved her. And she loved me. She also admitted that before, she never liked me. Growing up, I was Dad's favorite. And she knew why. She knew I was adopted, and that Dad couldn't afford to let that slip until I was older. He wanted to make sure I knew I was loved by him before he told me. He wanted to make sure my mother wouldn't leave him for my biological father again. During that process, he fell in love with me. He loved me as much as a dad could ever fall in love with their daughter.

My mother on the other hand, she never paid much attention to me. The only interest I got out of her was negative. I was not a stranger to the fact that  I had almost ruined her marriage, or the fact that I ruined the secret of her affairs, or the fact that she had deemed me to have ruined her entire life. I knew I was unloved by her, and any kindness was a mask she used to fake it in front of my dad.

She never holds back on how flawed I am. I'm not overweight to her, I am fat. I need to starve myself. I am ugly. Put make up on. No man will ever fall in love with me. She made it very clear that her life would be better off with out me. I think it would be better off with out alcohol, and drugs, and affairs.

I believe that you should never hate any one. You should only ever love everyone. I love her. And I will continue to love her more than she loves the alcohol running through her veins. I will love her more than the drugs she abuses. I will love her more than the men and women she fools around with. I will always love her, even if that means she will never love me. But I will never love her as much as my dad loves her.

His love for her is this beautiful, eternal, unconditional masterpiece that should be hanging in an art museum. It is flawless, perfect, and desirable. Everyone sees it, but the painting itself will never know how loved it is.

He tells me that my mother was different before I was born. She was fun and full of joy. She loved life and knew how to love. She loved my dad, and my sisters, endlessly. Before I was born, her world was happy. She had my sisters. She had my dad. She had men wrapped around her finger, and my biological father. She had secrets that were being kept.

She loved life until her secrets came out.

Dad is still in love with her. He is so in love with her that he doesn't punish her for being unfaithful or manipulative. He punishes himself. He stays in this unhappy marriage that not only kills him, but  also drove me away. I live with my sister, Nellie. Because of her, I am gone. And he beats himself up about it everyday. He prays to God to make him a better father. He already is the best father, he just puts his marriage first. There is no better man than my dad, but even the best people make mistakes.

He helps me cope. He encourages me to write, and sing, and read, and explore. He encourages adventure. But he worries. He wants me to become comfortable with confronting my mental illness. He wants me to fight my depression, and break barriers with my anxiety. He wants me to live with out hurting myself.

My dad helps me live. He doesn't allow me to let my worst days consume me anymore. My passion is to help those who hurt like me, and help them find ways to cope. Reading is an excellent decision in terms of coping. 

Mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of, or hidden. If something can't be cured it can be handled or managed. Let's cope together.

You and Me,

Ash