This is a long story, but, here we go. During the summer last year, my mom told me I could see a friend after a long time of not seen by people and being stuck in the house during the lock down. It may not have been a good idea health-wise, but my mental health was getting worse and worse due to being stuck in the house and not interacting with people. She said I had to mow the grass that day, and later in the day when I was about to start, the battery for the mower needed charged. It would have taken it a while to charge, and I told her I might not get it done before he comes over, and she said “well I guess he’s not coming over then”. I got super mad and threw the weed wacker I was carrying onto the ground and started yelling at her. I know it sounds extreme, but you have to understand how I felt in the moment. It had been SO long since I had seen any of my friends or just anyone in general other than my mom in person, and it was starting to take a tole on my mental health. The fact that she just said “no” made me freak out and made me feel like I would have to wait even longer to ever see anyone again. She then decided to kick me out and I had to live with my dad for a while.
One day my dad told me that he was letting my mom visit me and, at the time, I didn’t want to talk to her. I told him how I felt, and he said I need to see her anyway. He got defensive of her, and said that my mom was nothing but good to me and that I was in the wrong. I then tried to say something to him, but he interrupted and said, ironically, “don’t interrupt me” I interrupted him and said I didn’t do that, and he was like “there see you just did it again” and it pissed me off so much I banged my fist in his wall and banged on one of his doors. He then told me to get out and I quickly grabbed my phone and charger and he grabbed me and tried to force me out of his house. He then left me to wander the streets. My phone was at 1% and I was having trouble getting reception, so I couldn’t even call my grandparents for help.
I was wandering the street for hours. I was crying, my feet ached, and was wondering what was next for my life, as well as where I was going to sleep that night. I seriously thought that I would be homeless for the rest of my life. I thought it was over. But somehow my parents found me (I still don’t know how that happened) and they took me to a halfway house-type place (I don’t know what they’re actually called) Nowadays I’m living with my mom again, but the trauma still haunts me. I know I may have technically never been homeless, but the fact that I seriously thought I would be is still giving me shivers to this day.
I also have OCD, and I’m trying to not acknowledge this incident as much as possible. If I ever mention it I consider the day I mentioned it a day I can’t acknowledge in the future. My brain is telling me to do this. I also can’t look at people when talking to them because a part of their hair might have grown on a day I can’t acknowledge and that would be connected to my trauma. I literally just want my life to be normal again and not have to think about this so much.
I just want to know, if any of you have dealt with something like this. How did you learn to accept that this happened to you, if you ever did? I seriously just need people to tell me they’ve been there before and that it’ll be okay. That would honestly be so comforting and I wouldn’t feel alone. And I know it sounds like I have anger issues, but I just feel like both my parents have mistreated me a lot in the past and I always felt like I had little power over what they did to me. That’s all, thanks for reading if you did.
One day my dad told me that he was letting my mom visit me and, at the time, I didn’t want to talk to her. I told him how I felt, and he said I need to see her anyway. He got defensive of her, and said that my mom was nothing but good to me and that I was in the wrong. I then tried to say something to him, but he interrupted and said, ironically, “don’t interrupt me” I interrupted him and said I didn’t do that, and he was like “there see you just did it again” and it pissed me off so much I banged my fist in his wall and banged on one of his doors. He then told me to get out and I quickly grabbed my phone and charger and he grabbed me and tried to force me out of his house. He then left me to wander the streets. My phone was at 1% and I was having trouble getting reception, so I couldn’t even call my grandparents for help.
I was wandering the street for hours. I was crying, my feet ached, and was wondering what was next for my life, as well as where I was going to sleep that night. I seriously thought that I would be homeless for the rest of my life. I thought it was over. But somehow my parents found me (I still don’t know how that happened) and they took me to a halfway house-type place (I don’t know what they’re actually called) Nowadays I’m living with my mom again, but the trauma still haunts me. I know I may have technically never been homeless, but the fact that I seriously thought I would be is still giving me shivers to this day.
I also have OCD, and I’m trying to not acknowledge this incident as much as possible. If I ever mention it I consider the day I mentioned it a day I can’t acknowledge in the future. My brain is telling me to do this. I also can’t look at people when talking to them because a part of their hair might have grown on a day I can’t acknowledge and that would be connected to my trauma. I literally just want my life to be normal again and not have to think about this so much.
I just want to know, if any of you have dealt with something like this. How did you learn to accept that this happened to you, if you ever did? I seriously just need people to tell me they’ve been there before and that it’ll be okay. That would honestly be so comforting and I wouldn’t feel alone. And I know it sounds like I have anger issues, but I just feel like both my parents have mistreated me a lot in the past and I always felt like I had little power over what they did to me. That’s all, thanks for reading if you did.
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