"I just want you to remember"

For as long as I can remember, my dad and I have been emotionally distant from one another. 

When my first serious boyfriend and I broke up, I couldn't eat or sleep. I was pretty much in the deepest depression I have been in in a while. 

My mom called my dad and told him that she was worried about me because I wasn't eating. 
One day, I picked up the phone and heard this:

"I know you're upset and probably don't want to talk, but I just want you to remember that Daddy loves you." 

I never told my dad that just those few words meant more to me than he will ever know.

"I wish I had been more open..."

My mother and I were sitting on the porch and after bickering all day. I was laughing with some of her friends who had come over. 

She looked straight at me and said, "I wish I had been more open to the option of abortion 15 years ago."

It was my 15th birthday. 

"...until I fit in."

I've always admired my mom. She married my dad, moved to the US from Mexico, and got her citizenship via naturalization. She worked hard to learn English, and worked even harder to provide for four us after a bitter divorce.

At one point she was working three jobs, and she still always showed us the positive even though we were really poor at the time. She often faced a lot of racism in our small town because of her (and our) heritage. 

One day, I asked her how she does it. A Hispanic woman in a small, Midwestern community making ends meet with a smile on her face, not letting the haters bring her down. She looked at me, smiled and said, "If I'm in a new place, I squish and squeeze until I fit in." 

That's always stuck with me. She made a place for herself and worked hard for it. I'm lucky if I'll ever grow to be half the woman she is.

"I'd go back in time..."

The last time I saw my mom was two years ago on Christmas Eve, when she told me, "If I knew how fucked up you were going to turn out, I'd go back in time and not have you." 

"At least one of them will turn out normal."

After years of abuse, a group home, and an abusive foster mother, my life finally settled down. I went to therapy, got diagnosed with depression and PTSD, and received the help I needed. I became happier, more confident, more in control of my life than I have ever been. I felt like for the first time, my life was going in the right direction.

One day I was talking to my adoptive mother about how my little brother might be too young for therapy because he wasn't talking much in his sessions. The she told me what his therapist said to her:

"At least one of them will turn out normal." 

I had always felt judged for what my birth parents did, but hearing that a professional believed that I would forever be tainted because of my past sticks with me. 

I may have issues, but I am not broken. I am not destined to follow in my parents' footsteps and I'm not destined to lose my battle with my illnesses. 

I understand all of this on a logical level, but there's still that intrusive voice telling me that I will fail, I'm sick, I'm not normal, and I never will be.

"I wish you were a boy."

"I wish you were a boy."

This was just one of the many horrible things that my father said to 10 year old me, because I was too much like my mom.

"You can't leave me alone."

I moved in with my dad when I was 15, but I still felt like my mom and little brother were my responsibility, and that I let them down by leaving to live with my dad.

I told my dad that I wanted to go back to my mom's, and he said things like, "You're being selfish," "You can't leave me alone," "I know you have a better heart than that; you're not like your mom," or "You're two-faced as f**k." 

He would get mad at me if I ever told my mom about my worries or anger towards him, and he would then say nasty comments until I was a crying mess. Then he would send me to school while he would stay home and complain about me to our downstairs neighbors. 

I still can't get over feeling like I've betrayed both of my parents. I still feel responsible for my parents and little brother. I can't help feeling like I'm trapped in a corner.
 

Stomach Ache

When I was in 3rd grade, I walked in on my mom purging, and she told me, "I have a stomach ache, and I have to get everything out to feel better." 

From that moment on, I started purging whenever I had a stomach ache. For years. 

It took me until I was 25 and finally on the proper medication to realize that I've had an eating disorder my whole life, and it all started when my mother told me a story instead of telling me the truth about her problem.

"It's impossible for you to make good decisions."

When I was about eleven, my mother took me to visit her parents. They were emotionally and verbally abusive when she was growing up, and she still constantly seeks their approval. She wanted to show off her golden child so that her parents would have an opportunity to find something good in her.

We ended up in a discussion where my grandfather told me, "It's impossible for you to make good decisions because your brain isn't fully developed. You'll be making bad decisions until your mid-twenties." He added that I would probably be pregnant a few times and that I would borrow (and owe) him money between then and brain maturity time.

He was wrong, but I still remember him saying that.

"Nobody cares."

When I was in first grade, there was a girl who liked to tease me in a rather simple but hurtful way. I was a very talkative child, but every time I said something, she said to me, "Nobody cares." 

Eventually I stopped being talkative and became a quiet child. Now I am a quiet 20 year old struggling to talk to people, with barely any friends.

To top this all, my parents say I'm a very boring person. They don't believe in mental illnesses or disorders that I could have, so they just tell me to get over myself.

I just honestly think that nobody cares.