I was recommended this site by a crisis counselor. I'm new here. I'm going to vent. If you are reading all of this you probably think I am insane, (which I am) but here goes. Let's start from the beginning.

Hello. I am 13 years old and struggling with severe depression and anxiety. (Diagnosed.) I live with my younger sister and my parents. I have an older half sister. Ever since I was little, I remember my mom not treating me like how a mother is expected to treat her daughter. I was always very messy, and as a kid that is to be expected seeing as I was only in preschool. I remember when I didn't clean my room, my mother would come storming in and start screaming at me. I would sit there, being yelled at by my mother, on the bedroom floor while sobbing. Then my mom would proceed to tell me to stop crying or she would hurt me. She would then grab a garbage bag and take all the toys, clothing, stuffed animals, everything that was on my bedroom floor and stuff it into the garbage bag. I remember screaming at her to stop, screaming because my favorite dolls, stuffed bears, and nice Christmas presents were going to be thrown in the trash like they were nothing. As a kid I never understood why she did these terrible things. Why she was so mean. I feared her. Sometimes she was my mother, other times she was an evil bitch. I now know why she has always acted like this. She is an alcoholic, if that makes any sense. Alchohol does bad things to people.

My father always felt bad for me. I always felt bad for my father. Still do. Whenever I wouldn't eat my dinner and my mother got mad, she would send me to my room while I sobbed. I would cry myself to sleep. One time I remember I hadn't eaten in a few days because my mom would always send me to my room for not eating. My dad came into my room and brought me some food that I liked and told me everything would be okay. That memory stuck with me. I don't know why. Probably because even though life sucked I knew my dad was always there for me.

So I grew up. I grew up as a nice smart kid, everything was fine. My anxiety started to develop around the fourth grade. I remember my fourth grade teacher being very mean and always screaming discouraging things at me, as well as other students. That's when I started to stop participating in school. I stopped taking notes in class, (yes, my mean fourth grade teacher made us take notes. Jesus, you should still be trading pony stickers and Pokémon cards at that age.) I stopped doing my homework. I skipped school occasionally. Fifth grade rolls around. It's much worse. My teacher wasn't nearly as scarring as my fourth grade teacher, but she was still a bitch. I skipped school so much that I was given warnings. I was so anxious about what people were thinking about me I didn't want to be around them. I failed the fifth grade. Since the fifth grade didn't count for some reason, I continued to middle school. My old teachers had told my new ones about my past behavior, which made my sixth grade teachers treat me... special. They would set aside times for me and confront me in the middle of class. I just wanted a fresh start. Obviously that wasn't what was going to happen. Sixth grade was very hard. I missed a lot of school. I did about 30% of the homework, and rarely took notes. I kept telling my parents that I was depressed and that I was anxious but they ignored it. They insisted I go to the school counselor but I didn't want to because it was embarrassing. It's embarrassing for people to stare at you while a school counselor picks you up from your classroom. Especially for me considering my paranoia and social anxiety.

Meanwhile my older half sister had moved in. Let me explain. My mother used to be with some guy, he was scared of commitment and blah blah blah so when he found out my mom was pregnant he broke up with her. My mom knew she couldn't raise my older sister on her own so she looked for somebody to adopt her. She couldn't find anybody, so my grandparents offered. So my grandma and grandpa raised my older sister. My grandparents said that once my mother would find a man to help her raise my older sister, they would give her back to my mom. Psssh, as if. My mom got engaged to my dad and what not and they didn't give her back. I still saw her at least once or twice a month because she is my older sister. A few years in the future and my grandma and grandpa were fighting all the time. It looked like they were going to divorce so my dad asked if she wanted to move in with me, my younger sister, and my parents. She agreed. So she moved in. She shouldn't have moved in. My parents started fighting. My dad had started a new business because he had quit his old job, and so he hired a receptionist. My mom automatically jumped to the conclusion that he was cheating on her with the receptionist. (Again, my mom is an alcoholic. Not to mention the fact that she has cheated on my dad not once, but TWICE.) The fighting got really bad. My mom would take empty bottles and smash them over my dad, and beat him up. He was constantly covered in bruises and scars. He had to take the beatings because he knew if he fought back my mom would twist the story and report him to the police. Men can be abused too. The police wouldn't believe him. My grandparents decided to move to the state that I live in, (They lived in another state,) So my older sister moved back in with them because she couldn't handle my parents fighting. It was understandable. My parents were sad. My mom stopped taking care of me and my younger sister and my dad couldn't take care of us because he worked 12 hours a day. I raised my younger sister for the most part because my mom was always isolating herself in her room and drinking. The fighting has been going on since sixth grade and to now. Two years.

I failed sixth grade. They kicked me out of the school. So, I had to find a new one. I didn't like the religious stuff at my old school, (I was closeted and questioning my sexuality on top of it,) so I decided to go for a charter school. We found a nice school. The people at the school are nice, the work is easy but not to easy, the teachers are very nice as well. I like this school a lot more than the other two I have been to. But that didn't stop me from being a "troubled student." This was the year it got bad. This was the year I stopped believing things would get better. My anxiety was higher than ever before. I would sob every morning, having panic attacks because I was afraid. I was afraid of people staring at me and judging me. I was almost always late to school. I would hide myself alway in the bathroom for long periods of time while I freaked out. One day my washing machine broke so I didn't have a clean uniform. The uniform is any shoes, black pants, and a school uniform shirt. They sell the uniform shirts at the school for twelve dollars so I decided to go to school without a uniform and buy one at the school, put it on in the bathroom, and then go to class. I went to the office to get my late slip and asked for a uniform shirt. She said to come next period. I couldn't just go to class without my uniform and tell the teacher I didn't have one with everybody staring at me. I didn't know what to do. I had a panic attack. I sat in the bathroom for hours just sobbing while flipping out. I calmed myself down and everything worked out but this is when I stopped going to school. I would sob every morning and beg my dad to not make me go. I didn't want to go. I didn't have any friends. Nobody talked to me. They just stared at me. I refused to go to school. I begged and I begged. I never did my homework. I never payed attention in class if I went because I was to busy thinking of everything bad that could happen. I was self conscious about anything and everything.

I was so depressed that I couldn't deal with life let alone school. My parents would yell at me and fight all the time. I just wanted it to all end. I still do. I just want it to all end. This was just a few months ago. I just want to fall asleep and never wake up. There is no point. There is no purpose. I have no point. I have no purpose. My parents won't get me a therapist because they are afraid that if I tell any of this to anyone that the government will take me away. They are probably right. School ends. It's summer. No school to worry about. I'm still as depressed as ever. My parents still fight. They still treat me like dirt.

I have no way out of this. Suicide seems like the only way out. I can't go to school. I just can't do it. I have tried pills before. They don't work. A therapy session seems like the only way. It's all I have faith in. But my parents won't let me see one. They don't understand that if they don't do this for me that that is it. I am gone.

They aren't going to lose me by the government. They are going to lose me from my own death.

Thank you if you read all of that. I am in a suicidal state and have been for the past 6-10 months and I don't know what to do. I'd love to hear about your experiences.

There is more things however I pretty much just summed up everything. I can not thank you enough if you actually took the time to read all of this.