Hey, everyone! How are y'all doing? I'm kind of stuck in a situation. Here is a bit of back story.

I do not know what to do in this case. When I joined I was keeping a few really big secrets from my family, and needed support and the courage to 'spill the beans.' I managed to overcome informing my mum about the clown, and the suicidal thoughts and tendencies. Here are some of the issues I've been facing. I've been having one of the worst times with my mum yet! And I want to be able to talk to her, or MY therapist, but I can't.

.1 The Blame Game
As I have said in the past, my older brother has a psychotic disorder, on top of his depression-- which Mum never blamed him for. Both my brother and Mum have depression, and both have told me straight on that I do not. Now, when I told my mum about the clown under my bed, I felt like I had so accomplished something-- that is, until the next day, when she decided that my negativity and gloom was the cause for these 'demons.'

She tends to blame all these sorts of things on me. All the things that go wrong, the blame tends to land right on top of me. Because of my 'depression,' as I call it, I have opened a bad gateway. And since I typically moan and crap in my bedroom, where else are these 'demons' going to reside? In my room.

On another note, I am just going to make myself at home with this one, by saying that I do have bulimia nervosa. It's getting increasingly worse after months and months of having it. My brothers used to think I have anorexia nervosa, because 'I didn't eat.' (Looking in the pantry was a clue, dudes)! But anyway, I was going to tell my mum. I had just enough courage that night to inform her of my eating disorder. I took it slow, because whacking around the bush was my best bet.

Oh, was I wrong. Instead of getting past the first line, I got interrupted. She went on to say how I was such a difficult child to raise, how it would be easier if my daddy was still alive, etc etc. In a nutshell, my thoughts lean towards the idea that she was blaming me for her health problems, that if I didn't do this ******** to myself, things would be better for her. That just shut me up, and I haven't come to terms with the idea that I may just have to tell her, whether or not there is going to be a vicious blame game involved. But right now I'm not concerning myself with that. Because I don't care anymore about myself. If I can't appear to mean much to my mother, brother, and daddy, what's the point of caring for myself?

.2 At the Therapist

Okay, so after the whole talk I did manage to have with my mum, I get to go to therapy. But I've been through two sessions already. And what do I get out of it? Not being able to talk. Want to know what my mother has done? She's taken it upon herself to take MY therapy. Yes, she does talk for me, but there are things that I want to talk about, that involve me. Not what my mother thinks of me! It's not her therapy. When she was filling out the application, she flat out told me not to say anything that she didn't know. Why, why, why? Why can't I talk for myself?

So, in two weeks, I get to have my own session. Yep, just one. My mum flat out told me another thing. 'You can go in there without me. For one week.' Yay! One bloody ****ing week. By myself. OF MY THERAPY!

.3 More of the Blame Game

I can't talk too, too bad of my mum in there. I don't think she's a bad person, but truthfully? I want to talk about the reasons why I'm always so 'depressed,' my eating disorder. But I'm under the impression that I can't mention any of that, because she would find out sooner or later, correct? I can't mention her abusive behaviour towards me, always blaming me and my brothers for her mistakes, I don't feel that I can talk to her without her blaming her ******** all on me, and better yet, I can't even confide in her what the hell is wrong with me. She wonders what, but I just can't talk to her about anything.

What do I do?