Ups and Downs: The Dangers of Mood Swings

Sigh, with the title, you'd expect a scientific approach at something.
Well, unfortunately, you're not gonna get that *sadface*

You know why? Because I don't play that way.
I kid. I DO look up things online. That's why I'm getting paranoid about me having PCOS. You know what that is? It's 'Polycystic Ovary Syndrome'. I don't want to delve into that right now but if you look it up, you'd see why I'm quite worried about it. I actually cried thinking I might not have kids. That's why I rather have it checked now.

I've been wanting to have it checked by my parents keep saying no. Or rather, tries to find all the excuses and reasons in the world as to why they don't wanna take me to the hospital. My dad's most overused excuse is: "You're gonna be waiting 3 hours at the hospital like a stupid person."

My mom is actually really busy but I can't help but find her excuses grating to my ears.
I know it's Mother's Day tomorrow but what I feel toward my mom right now, it makes me wish I wasn't born.

The animosity I feel toward my mom right now makes me glad I didn't win the main prizes of the Etude House Essay Competition. Because I really don't feel like I love her as much. I got one of the consolation prizes but right now, don't feel like getting it. I planned to give it to my mom but the way she just treated me made me feel like getting stuff and then just slapping her with it.

I have a hard time, and I mean VERY HARD TIME expressing myself nowadays.
I kinda stutter, only one or two words come out. I can't form a proper sentence.
It made me feel like all those psychiatric visits are wasted seeing as how my parents are still the same as ever.

I know, in their heads, they want normalcy.
They wish their born-smart-but-lazy daughter was normal. Liked normal things like other kids, ever since I was small. I was different when I was small. I knew I was.

They couldn't understand my love for art, my enthusiasm for music or my desire to learn dance and acting. I used to want to be a ballerina, but my parents didn't let me. So I grew up fat. When I told them I wanted to learn music, they'd say no. Maybe sure, we didn't have money, they did have 5 other kids to support. But even now, they're against me pursuing music.

When I told them I want to be an artist, a painter, they'd just shake their heads. So having been shot down all the time, I just made believe that I wanted to become a scientist.

I didn't even know what scientists did. I just continued to tell people that's what I wanted to do, even when I felt more at home acting and performing. Voice-acting, everything, I still love them, even now. But my passion for it is dying very fast.

It's funny how they always contradict themselves.
Saying they never did say no to the things I wanted to do.
"No" is always their first answer.

Because of "No", I started throwing tantrums. I became a child that likes to cry, scream, shout and throw things. Even as an adult, I unfortunately feel like I have not changed at all. Just like today, I felt like throwing things, but I didn't have anything to throw.

I used to throw my glasses. I had lots of glasses that I had to change because I broke the frame.

Looking at my niece and nephew, I feel resentful. When they misbehave, all I want to do is shout at them, pinch them, sometimes, I feel compelled to hit them.

I don't like feeling that way but I know, in the past, that's how my dad fixes things.

He would use the belt and whip me. Slapped me. He even smashed my head against a mirror once. And it broke. Of course. And my wrist got a cut from the shattered glass. I have a feeling he might have even kicked me.

I was raised through that kind of way.

I didn't even know they weren't supposed to do that. Until now. I feel hatred toward him sometimes.
I don't think it's fair. Now he preaches that we need to care for the kids with kind words and good examples.

Well, too late for that, dad.

I love you and all, but did you know what you did to me was wrong?
Yes, I was a difficult child.

I know some of my friends went through the same treatment. You'd think it'd make us behave well? Well, apparently it didn't. I still throw tantrums, heck, even worse than before. Rather than call it tantrums, I think they're more like manic episodes.

They never admitted, nor did they realize that I've been going through these cycles of depression and tantrums since I was young. I remember when I was 11 or 12, I threw a lot of tantrums. I was very suicidal. I keep telling them I would kill myself.

I don't think it's normal. I never thought it was normal, but I asked myself "If my parents are not doing anything about it, I guess it's normal?"

*screen starts to look blurry*

Yes, I'm fucking crying.

I keep asking myself, when I have kids, would I hurt them? Would my episodes of depression hurt them?
I keep telling myself I shouldn't have kids, even if I really wanted them.

Because I know, I'll just be like this.
And I can't be fixed.

I don't like this.
I made a promise to my ex that I wouldn't hurt myself anymore, and I don't intend to.

But with this difficulty I have to face, with family not caring even when I already asked for help.
It's hard.

To think we were once close, closer than now.
I can't trust them anymore.

It made me realize the more I was exposed to the world, I don't think families are like this.

A family would help you, try to make you feel better.
Not deny that you need help and that you're normal and you just need to grow up.

I am fucking 21 now, I had to endure years of me hating myself because nobody wanted to help me. I blamed myself for being like this since was young, since I was 5.

Now that I went for help, you still want to disbelieve the fact that I had to take anti-depressants and that I went to see a psychiatrist.

That I had stayed in a mental ward two times.

The doctor already told me, if my family does not co-operate, the surroundings can't make me better.
Heck, there was a time I'd rather stay at school than go home.

Because I don't want to see them, don't want to be with them.

One doctor asked if I've been abused sexually. No.
Mentally, physically, yes. Emotionally, yes.

I also told them I used to fall down the stairs very often. Maybe I hit my head hard. I don't even remember.

I hate my family.

I really do.
And I doubt I can fully love them anymore.

I really want to run away or die.

When they tell me family would be there for you, and friends would leave.
They lied.

What can I do if both family and friends leave me?
Maybe I should have learned to be a lone wolf like he did.

But I live on emotions.

So now, I think. I think....

I think the only way is to die.














And those are the dangers of mood swings.


-Nisah-

P.S: Happy Mother's Day to the mommies that actually care for their children.