So, this morning, I told my mum (again) that I think I'm depressed. The first time, it didn't go so well. It was about a year ago and she told me that she knew depression because it ran in the women in her side of the family and she herself was seasonally depressed, though in recent years she's been thankfully unaffected. She'd told me before that I was a naturally happy kid that just, "got a little sad sometimes."
This morning, when she found me lying in my bed cocooned in my blankets, she asked me how long I'd been awake. I told her about an hour and a half and she wanted to know why I hadn't come downstairs. Well, I told her that it was because I did this every morning and I needed about an hour to two hours to build up the courage and physical strength to throw back my covers and face the day. I told her it's because she's occasionally verbally abusive to me when she says things like, "Grow up and get a brain!" (An excerpt from our conversation yesterday) and that I felt like a disappointment to everyone in my life so it was just easier to lie in bed and pretend that I don't exist than to burden everyone with my presence in the morning. And it was then that I told her, "Mum, I think I might be depressed."
Then, she starts crying and told me that my soon to be younger step-brother was feeling neglected and that he wants to graduate high school and go away to college so that he doesn't have to be near his dad and my mum. So she's sitting at the foot of my bed crying away and then I started crying because I actually just bared a large part of my soul to her and she ignored me. Again.
To top it all off, she left for her boyfriend's house a few hours later and now I've been at home all day by myself debating whether or not just to down the entirety of the two bottles of Advil PM that I keep in my bedside table, the suicide note already written and in the envelope under the bottles.
Sorry to be a burden. I just needed to talk to someone. There's no one anymore.