I’m the 2nd oldest out of myself and 3 sisters. Growing up none of us never really knew our dad’s because we all had a different biological father, all of which usually had a bad habit of leaving after we were a few months old. Growing up I was never really close with my sisters, but we always tried to look out for each other any way we could. As we got older my sisters became really close with my aunt and looked to her as a role model. I on the other hand was always close to my grandfather, he was my best friend and the only father figure I had till he passed away when I was 18. That was when my anxiety and depression really spiraled out of control, but I’ll get to that later.
I’ve always had issues with anxiety ever since I can remember, its hard not to when you grow up with a stutter. My stutter caused a lot of social anxiety over the years. In my teenage years that anxiety got worst and slowly turned into depression when my step-father constantly demanded perfection from me. My step-father suffered from alcoholism and his idea of being a good father was to drink away the pain from his childhood and demand I be perfect and better than he was. Little did he know he was damaging me in the process. I always covered up my depression and anxiety caused by my home life with a fake smile and silly attitude on life. I did this because I was to afraid to ask for help or counseling at school and always thought to myself tomorrow will be better. But tomorrow was never better and eventually I got so good at it that over the years even I started to believe it myself.
When I was 16 my mother divorced my step-father and it gave me the opportunity I needed to move in with my grandparents. Over the next 2 years my grandfather and I became really close. He was my shoulder to lean on when the weight of the world felt like it was to much. I could vent to him about anything and always felt safe opening up to him about my problems. When I was 18 he passed away from a heart attack, that was the day I not only lost my best friend but the only father I had ever known. After his death in 2006 I spun out of control with my depression and started using drugs and alcohol to cover it up and to help keep my fake smile and personality for appearances. I kept this up for years till I met my ex wife.
I met my ex wife when I was 21, she had just gotten divorced a year prior and we both met by chance multipletimes in the past. I dated my ex for 2 months before meeting her 2 children, the day I met her children was the first time in 3 years I had actually felt a sense of joy. Because of that we dated for another 3 months before we decided to move In together and build on our relationship. The first 3 years of our relationship were amazing, we had bought a house together, we had gotten married, she was finally able to be a stay home mom, and we were even looking into having another child. For 3 years I actually felt a relief fromy anxiety and depression. But all that changed in 2013 after I was laid off, shortly after I was laid off my ex had to go back to work after being stay home mom for 2 years. That was when all my insecurities started, she started to blame me for everything bad in our life’s. I went from being this amazing husband and father to her children, to some man that just lived with her and paid his due of the finances. Over the years I kept bottling up everything and would build insecurities about myself, in my head everything was my fault and I would never be good enough for her or her children anymore. By 2018 she had cheated on me multiple times and her kids had grown to disrespect me also after seeing their mother do it for the last 4 years. I should have left years before that, but in my head my insecurities and depression made me feel like I would never be good enough and my only option was to stay and do my best to make her and her children happy. I guess I always thought if I tried hard enough eventually we could become that happy family we once were. I was wrong and in the fall of 2018 my ex had decided to kick me out with nothing but a bag of clothes and a few boxes of belongings. That was the lowest point in my life and the first time I contemplated suicide.
Broken and Healing 