Speaking up/Owning up to Problems

Talking about mental health problems is hard. Even more so, when you’re an extremely insecure child, that is denied to speak up about their own problems and needs. In this case, it was me. 

Growing up in Germany, with parents that were not capable, and still aren’t, to become parents, i got forced into a live of emotional and physical abuse. I was taught to be quiet, to be obedient and to never under any circumstances speak up about my feelings or things that troubled me. 

As a person with ADD my childhood therefore, consisted of continues spanking, slaps in the face and in my opinion even worse, ignoring, living with the constant knowledge of not being good enough and being a failure that would never achieve anything in live. 

As I grew older the differences between me and my family became bigger and more visible. I liked art and books and music. My parents and my younger ‘perfect’ sister did not and made sure I knew. 

Even though i did not get diagnosed with ADD and anxiety until i was 22 years old, my younger self always realized that there was a difference between how i was and how they were. 

So when i finished school at 19, I left. I went to america to escape it all. I promised myself to become a better person, to figure out what i had to do, so they would accept me and not be such a problem anymore.

Thats when I met my now partner in crime and his wonderful caring and loving family. All of a sudden i saw how actual families interact, how they accept each other no matter what and how they love one another unconditionally and for the first time in my life i realized that I wasn’t the problem, it was my family. 

They taught me how to not judge each other, how to openly talk about any problem one might have, and most importantly that it is not normal or okay to get physical or abusive in any kind of way. 

But after two years as an AuPair, I had to go back to Germany again. Luckily for me my boyfriend came with me. And thats when the real horror went down. I thought it would be okay for us to live with my parents for a short time until we would find an apartment. Though i didn’t really think it through. Everything i experienced in 19 years of living there came straight back but worse. My father did not accept the man I chose to be with. His yelled rants in the middle of the night to me, about how we destroyed his family, that I seemed to be too stupid and brainwashed by my boyfriend to see reality. To both my parents threatening me to force my boyfriend to move to Italy to take care of is mental issues or else we both would be sitting on the street that same night. 

So after 5 very long and hurtful month that threw both our progress how to deal with our issues years back, we finally found our own place.

And thats when I decided I simply could not do it anymore. I couldn’t constantly listen to them criticizing every move i made, telling me that i ruined everything and everyone. Everyone always told me to keep trying so i did with trying to confront my father about what he said, by talking to my mother. But for me it was broken beyond repair so i ended the relationship with my family. 

Sometimes you have to realize when something is not worth fighting for anymore and you just have to let it go. Even if its the relationship with your own parents. But 6 month later, I have to say it gets easier. Yes in the beginning it was hard. I cried and then i cried again and after that i cried some more. My boyfriend just like back in america listens to me when i try to tell him things i had to endure, things that should’ve been reported, things that make him so very angry. But it gets better. I dont ask myself ‘why me’ all the time anymore. Nightmares about my father become less and less.

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