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I'm not sure where to start.. You'd think that running over

I'm not sure where to start.. You'd think that running over a single post in your head for a year would make it simple, but it never seems to turn out that way. Guess I'll start from the beginning, I apologize in advance for any rambling.
My father was a nightmare. A meth head that got sober long enough to fool my mother then relapsed. My earliest memories are just of him high, screaming at my mother, and throwing furniture. I was 4 when she left him, he came at me, and in a level of badassery I've never seen equaled my 5 foot nothing 95 lbs mother beat the crap out of a 6'4" guy with a wooden spoon and left with me. My mom has always been my anchor, the best person I've ever known. Her only flaw really is that she has terribly taste in men..She's never given up hope on me, despite the bad days, that turned into months, that turned into years as a combination of developing bipolar disorder, deep self-loathing and confusion over what I later realized was that I'm transgender, and the constant but innocuous emotional abuse from my new step father ravaged my psyche. The latter is what really did me in. A constant stream of criticisms, and put-downs, but never enough that I could really call him on it, nothing that I could point to and say, "See? This is what I mean. This is why I hurt." But I couldn't, and no one believed me, and honestly I didn't totally believe myself. It wasn't until fairly recently that I've truly gone back and reconsidered what was going on, after talking with friends that where in emotionally abusive relationships and realizing that I was quite familiar with their stories.
Fast forward a few years and I'll leave a trigger warning for suicide and self-harm.
I was 15, still dealing with the aftereffects of puberty ravaging my body in ways that I truly, truly hated. My Bipolar was in full swing, but I was still diagnosed so I thought I was just going crazy. I thought I was just the ****tiest human being in existence. School was bad, I was starting to fail classes because I could barely find it in me to get out of bed, let alone do five hours of homework. I never wanted to go home. I couldn't stand how my mom looked at me. She had done everything for me, taken 2 jobs and gone to school full time, got her PhD. She'd sacrificed everything for me and I was throwing it away because I couldn't bring myself to fill out a couple worksheets a night. I know she must have been furious, but she never yelled at me, just asked me if I was okay, and if she could do anything to help. Between that guilt, and the constant, chipping criticisms from my step father, where every time I actually managed to do something and start to dig myself out of the hole it shoved my right back in.
A bottle of advil later and I woke up in the ICU after two and a half weeks. I spent a fair bit of time in the psychiatric facility after that. When I got out I figured out that the friends I had weren't really friends at all. Next stop the the loneliness train? The internet. I started gaming, Mmorpgs mostly. Was one of the only things I've tried that I was ever really good at, but I was, so I went all in. I made friends, I lied about my age, which was pretty easy since I didn't sound much like a 15 year old anyways, but never said much beyond that. Until I met my best friend, who still is 7 years later. He was a bit older, mid twenties, and had really seen some ****. I could relate to the emotions, but not the actions. So I lied. I gave myself some crazy backstory to try and explain the feelings I have in a way that someone that hasn't experience severe mental illness or emotional trauma could understand. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done, and I've never regretted anything more in my life. It snowballed. 7 years in I have a group of online friends, good friends. The kind that everybody wants and none of us deserve. Least of all me. They only know the mask. They don't know that I'm a total failure. That I was given every chance in the world and I can't hold down a job because once a month I go manic so badly that sometimes the only thing I can do it sit in the bottom of my shower and try to not kill myself. They only know the mask. They don't know that I'm a worthless cowardly lier. That I'm everything my step father told me I'd be.

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Dec 6

Hey, first off you are not a failure you have bipolar disorder and non of us can help it if we have mental condition. It can be extremely hard to manage symptoms from a lot of things that doesn't make you a failure. You're not the only one that has made things up before, how do you know non of those other people haven't made up anything? Good people do things that aren't always the wisest thing to do but it doesn't make anyone a bad person. Maybe you need your medicine adjusted or something added. Sometimes i feel crazy because of my moods I might get all worked up over something that has been bothering me and blast off on it for a good hour but then I come back down and feel pretty normal then I might go 2 weeks or 2 days and blast off on it again. I'm not a failure I just have great difficulty dealing with intense emotions at times. I think your step father is abusive. Maybe you could gradually let people know more of the real you in your own time. Don't forget there are private things people don't need to know. You are far from worthless, you have been dealing with far more than the average person so please be kinder to yourself do not listen to the abusers words that he put in your head, he is the one that's a coward abusing his wife's child hes a loser for what he's done now it's time for you to find the strength to start learning how to manage your symptoms better and doing things to build your self esteem. Think about the things you are good at the things you enjoy and start doing those more.

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