A Daily Struggle...

Since being "diagnosed" in 2007, every day feels like an uphill struggle. I wake up every morning wishing I could close my eyes again and not open them. Every day I use every ounce of energy I have fighting against every little voice. I can't sleep properly. I'm extremely paranoid about everyone and everything. Someone says something to me as a joke and while I laugh along, inside I'm panicking. Do my friends really like me or are they just using me? Are they joking or are they serious when they say those things?

However, the last 5 years have made me question a lot of things. My mum should never have conceived me, I was a science miracle. She bravely fought breast cancer a few years before hand and the chemo made her infertile, which was okay. She'd had three children so it wasn't like she was never going to experience it. Of course, she was upset by the news but I think she was happy that she did have the chance to have my three older siblings. Then she discovered she was pregnant again, with me. We should never have made it, I should never have made it through the pregnancy but I did and nearly 22 years later, I'm still here.

After finding this out a few years ago, you would have thought this news would have made me so grateful to be on this planet. Don't get me wrong, I am so grateful that my Mum gave birth to me and I love her so much but there are so many times when I just wonder why? She could have had a better life without me, she could have made something of her life. She could have done anything but I held her back, since her ex-husband got custody of my brother and sisters.

My mum sacrificed a lot for me and I can never truly pay her back for that. We've moved around a lot, I'm currently in like my 18th house or something but it never mattered. We used to fight like cat and dog, and still do sometimes, but I know that she will always be there for me when I need her.

Since moving to uni, I go home (well to my Mum's) about 3/4 times a year. Much less than I would like to. Growing up, I never really spent a lot of time, compared to others, with my brother and sisters because we moved a lot but when we moved back up there in 2007, I was happy. Now, I'm back in York, where Mum and I moved from. A lot of shit went down before we moved home. Some of it was my fault. I know my Mum still blames herself but she shouldn't because it wasn't her. It did show me how much I meant to my Mum though. I was led to believe a lot of lies about her and our relationship. Just goes to show that mums are always right.

I got told a lot as a child that people were out to hut you because they were selfish. I got told not to show weakness of any kind because then people knew how to hurt you. I never believed them until bad things started happening. Then I realised that it was true - people are selfish. If someone can hurt you for whatever reason (because they're bored or they think you deserve it or anything) then they will.

If you tell someone something often enough over a long period of time, they start to believe it. When you manage to get the closest person in their lives to behave in a way which corresponds to those lies, they believe it more. And the funny thing? No matter how many professional people you talk to, it never goes away. Not really.

I'm never going to get rid of this thing now. I have to live with that and every day it gets harder and harder. I struggle finding meaning in my life. I have so many amazing friends and family and a wonderful relationship with my boyfriend and I love them all so much. But there will always be those voices that won't let me forget. That constantly play it over and over and over until I just want to scream. I haven't had a bad life so why can't I cope with things? Am I really a bad person? Do I deserve this? Is it punishment for a past life?