talking about my parents might trigger some people. So if you are triggered by religious, emotional abuse issues, please stop reading!!








My mom is who I get my bipolar from. She is such a classic case of bipolar disorder. Instead of doctors... which scares her to death... she chose religion as a means to bury herself into. She would always play me and my sisters against each other and our alcoholic dad. She would involve us in her mental games too. Ugh... and my dad supported her instead of doing the right thing by us. I was like her serogate husband growing up, taking her scorn of my dad because he was never around. She tried to make me hate all men, in gods name. She liked to play mind games with me too. She gave me money for drugs and cigarettes, even though I told her what I wanted the money for. She then would tell my dad what I was spending the money on and him and I would get into physical fights over it while she sat back and watched. Fortunately, being the youngest and the only male child, and for the fact I had no inhibitions, I was enough to keep the focus off of my sisters.

They felt that supporting me was letting me do whatever I wanted without a care. My dad is into guns. He would ask me to get him high capacity clips for his handguns. Ugh. This one time... After my si attempt at the age of 15, they briefly discussed getting me help. they had the money to do so. But instead of giving a crap about me at all, they spent the money on one of those pyramid schemes and lost it all. Ha! I'm happy they lost it all, it would have eaten me up knowing the money that should have gotten me help and saved me years of pain was successful in that damn scheme.

They were very, very emotionally abusive. And my mom religiously abusive too. She would withdraw her attention because I was not following gods plan. I grew up alone and angry.. hence my abandonment issues. My onset of bp was at age nine. They talk about that time like the "devil" had gotten a hold of me and not even recognizing that anything was wrong. Ugh! I'm happy now that my onset was at age nine, I'm happy that I didn't give in to them and I grew strong enough to stand against them. I'm happy that I fought back with my dad and didn't let him just beat me, but that I swung back. I can still feel the one time that my punch connected and I got him square on the side of the head, how weak his head felt against my fist. I'm happy that I learned to play mind games and gained a little control regarding my mom. I'm just happy that it wasn't easy for those bastards to destroy me! Ugh!

I should stop now. I'm getting too worked up.