I have been thinking on writing a book for so long, or a blog for that matter. Write about the things I experience in my life. Not that my life is at all interesting or excited, but I can help someone by sharing my experiences or that is what at least I think. Is good to mention that I love helping people, I really love it, I know, is weird, but I don't know why, makes me happy helping other people. I'm weird!
Well, let's get started!
On this first post, I would try to tell you a little about me, well I will try to do it as short as I can, because I like writing, I express myself better at writing than at talking. Since this is my first post, I have a lot to say, a lot to share...
Starting with the basics
I'm a female, soon to be 29 years old, and I'm from Monterrey, Nuevo León, México. That is right, I'm Mexican, don't worry if you don't know where my city is, that is not important. Right know, I'm leaving in Texas, yeah!.. don't mess with Texas, or that is what they say.
I'm coming from a very Mexican family, I have three siblings, and I still live with my parents (I know, is a shame). I'm one year away to finish my bachelors (I now, another shame). I'm single, not married and not kids. I think that is all the basics, later you will learn more about me.
I been paying the school by my self, that is one reason why is taking me so long to finish it. Another reason is, that I suffer from depression and anxiety. I always have. Since I was a little child, I have depression, maybe you are wondering why?... well, I will tell you, after all, that is the purpose of my blog. Just as a warning, I'm not trying to make you to feel sorry for me, that is not my purpose, besides I don't need your sorry. My purpose is for you to learn something... what? you may ask. Well, I don't know, that is up to you. You always have something to learn, and my blog is another way to learn something new.
The Story
I grow up in a dysfunctional family (we can say that), my mom always took care of my dad, because my dad was that kind of man who did not understand that he had a family, he thought he was single yet, so kept going out with friends and got home drunk. My mom was looking after him, trying for him not to leave us, and for him to got home. Because of that, she paid a little attention to my brother and me. This is when, my depression began.
My mom, was a really hard person to talk to, I didn't had the confidence to talk with her like other girls did with their mothers, everything that I told her was something bad that I did, I was always a bad girl to her. Always. The only person I could rely to, was my grandma. She made me food after school, she took care of me, she gave me advices about life, she even thought me how to make a bride in my hair. My grandma, is the best person in my life, but still I didn't had the confidence to tell her everything because I knew she would tell to my mom, and my mom would hit me so hard until I forget what I was saying and fall asleep. Yup! that was my mom.
When I was 9 I use to play with my neighbor, he was older than me, but he had a Nintendo, which I did't have because we were a very poor family. We use to live in one of my grandmas house and eat my grandmas food. You know where my dad was, and my mom was looking for him. I think this is where I start to think about not getting marry. I use to watch every fight between my mom and dad, that I thought of never getting marry because I didn't want to live that life. I didn't want to fight with someone over and over again, for something that was bad, that was painful for me, that it hurt me so much, and then forget about it after having sex. I really use to hate that...I still do.
But back to my neighbors story, I use to play with him almost everyday, he was my only friend back then, I didn't have friends in school because I was invisible to everybody, due to my financial status. My mom is also that kind of person who likes to brag about everything, so she did everything for us to be in a really rich school, but with cheap cloths, cheap school supplies and cheap back pack.
I was that kind of girl who was poor, shy, quiet and no low grades, but no with the highest too, in the school we used uniform, so we use this white socks knew level with a skirt, but as I mention it before, cheap cloths, my socks use to fell every time. So picture this, a skinny little girl, with cheap uniform cloths, with cheap school supplies, shy, quiet, not smart and with her socks off and her shoes dirty, did you picture it?... that is me.
(You maybe have been wondering what does it have to do the story of my neighbor with this, well I'm getting there, don't worry)
Because of my status, no one wanted to be my friend. Everyone had this big houses, with big cars, and their moms get to school to pick them up, but not me. My house was only two rooms, like those rooms in a motel. where you get in and you see the bed, the t.v., the dining table and the bathroom? Like that, but, only with a difference of instead of seeing the bathroom you saw the kitchen. My bathroom was a little room outside, that didn't have hot water, we had to heat it first in the stove and pour it in a medium bucket with half of cold water, and get to shower with warm water. You don't want to know how was that when it was cold, going outside, in a cold room just getting hot water with a cup from a bucket, believe me you don't want to know that feeling. At school, everyone new where I lived, another reason why no one wanted to be my friend. It was really hard for me to keep a friendship, I did talk to people, to girls, but the friendship last it months and then they change friends and leave me alone again. I'm use to it now.
So, my neighbor was the only friend that I had, my brother and I usually went to his house to play video games, until one day, I stop going to play with him. Just like that, I stop. No one knew why, no one knew what was the reason, I didn't even wanted to look at him, but how you can look back to someone who assaulted you sexually. I was only 9 years, but I didn't tell anyone, I just ran away, and never go back.
That is when I lost my only "friend".
I didn't told my mother until I was 11, and what she say to me was:
-"maybe you liked it, that is why you didn't told me".
Now you understand why I said she was hard to talk to, I was only 9. Only 9 years old, and she thought I liked to be sexually assaulted. I don't hate her, or blame her, she was going through a lot. But I wish she would had a better response that day, a kiss, a hug or a at least a "I'm sorry, that I wasn't there for you". But nope... nothing!
That is how my depression and anxiety began.
I would tell you more about me, and my story, but later, I think this post is large enough and hard enough to read. I don't want to bored you a lot.
Remember, this is not a "I feel sorry for you" post. This is a "I want you to learn something new" post.
...and this is how my blog begins.
I been paying the school by my self, that is one reason why is taking me so long to finish it. Another reason is, that I suffer from depression and anxiety. I always have. Since I was a little child, I have depression, maybe you are wondering why?... well, I will tell you, after all, that is the purpose of my blog. Just as a warning, I'm not trying to make you to feel sorry for me, that is not my purpose, besides I don't need your sorry. My purpose is for you to learn something... what? you may ask. Well, I don't know, that is up to you. You always have something to learn, and my blog is another way to learn something new.
The Story
I grow up in a dysfunctional family (we can say that), my mom always took care of my dad, because my dad was that kind of man who did not understand that he had a family, he thought he was single yet, so kept going out with friends and got home drunk. My mom was looking after him, trying for him not to leave us, and for him to got home. Because of that, she paid a little attention to my brother and me. This is when, my depression began.
My mom, was a really hard person to talk to, I didn't had the confidence to talk with her like other girls did with their mothers, everything that I told her was something bad that I did, I was always a bad girl to her. Always. The only person I could rely to, was my grandma. She made me food after school, she took care of me, she gave me advices about life, she even thought me how to make a bride in my hair. My grandma, is the best person in my life, but still I didn't had the confidence to tell her everything because I knew she would tell to my mom, and my mom would hit me so hard until I forget what I was saying and fall asleep. Yup! that was my mom.
When I was 9 I use to play with my neighbor, he was older than me, but he had a Nintendo, which I did't have because we were a very poor family. We use to live in one of my grandmas house and eat my grandmas food. You know where my dad was, and my mom was looking for him. I think this is where I start to think about not getting marry. I use to watch every fight between my mom and dad, that I thought of never getting marry because I didn't want to live that life. I didn't want to fight with someone over and over again, for something that was bad, that was painful for me, that it hurt me so much, and then forget about it after having sex. I really use to hate that...I still do.
But back to my neighbors story, I use to play with him almost everyday, he was my only friend back then, I didn't have friends in school because I was invisible to everybody, due to my financial status. My mom is also that kind of person who likes to brag about everything, so she did everything for us to be in a really rich school, but with cheap cloths, cheap school supplies and cheap back pack.
I was that kind of girl who was poor, shy, quiet and no low grades, but no with the highest too, in the school we used uniform, so we use this white socks knew level with a skirt, but as I mention it before, cheap cloths, my socks use to fell every time. So picture this, a skinny little girl, with cheap uniform cloths, with cheap school supplies, shy, quiet, not smart and with her socks off and her shoes dirty, did you picture it?... that is me.
(You maybe have been wondering what does it have to do the story of my neighbor with this, well I'm getting there, don't worry)
Because of my status, no one wanted to be my friend. Everyone had this big houses, with big cars, and their moms get to school to pick them up, but not me. My house was only two rooms, like those rooms in a motel. where you get in and you see the bed, the t.v., the dining table and the bathroom? Like that, but, only with a difference of instead of seeing the bathroom you saw the kitchen. My bathroom was a little room outside, that didn't have hot water, we had to heat it first in the stove and pour it in a medium bucket with half of cold water, and get to shower with warm water. You don't want to know how was that when it was cold, going outside, in a cold room just getting hot water with a cup from a bucket, believe me you don't want to know that feeling. At school, everyone new where I lived, another reason why no one wanted to be my friend. It was really hard for me to keep a friendship, I did talk to people, to girls, but the friendship last it months and then they change friends and leave me alone again. I'm use to it now.
So, my neighbor was the only friend that I had, my brother and I usually went to his house to play video games, until one day, I stop going to play with him. Just like that, I stop. No one knew why, no one knew what was the reason, I didn't even wanted to look at him, but how you can look back to someone who assaulted you sexually. I was only 9 years, but I didn't tell anyone, I just ran away, and never go back.
That is when I lost my only "friend".
I didn't told my mother until I was 11, and what she say to me was:
-"maybe you liked it, that is why you didn't told me".
Now you understand why I said she was hard to talk to, I was only 9. Only 9 years old, and she thought I liked to be sexually assaulted. I don't hate her, or blame her, she was going through a lot. But I wish she would had a better response that day, a kiss, a hug or a at least a "I'm sorry, that I wasn't there for you". But nope... nothing!
That is how my depression and anxiety began.
I would tell you more about me, and my story, but later, I think this post is large enough and hard enough to read. I don't want to bored you a lot.
Remember, this is not a "I feel sorry for you" post. This is a "I want you to learn something new" post.
...and this is how my blog begins.
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