In my family it was unexceptable to admit you had a mental illness. My father was a schizophrenic and it embarassed my mother when I becan showing signs of mental instability. She denied me help. I got pregnant at 15, she put me out. I started seeing a doctor and began taking meds for depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder. At the same time I always felt guilty for taking them, like it was admitting I was crazy, unstable, not normal. I hated myself for needing the meds to function in a normal way, why couldn't I just get over it. All the love I thought I was unworthy of giving myself I gave to my children. I would never make them feel about themselves the way my mother made me feel. I lost custody of my kids to my mother after a nervousbreakdown, it breaks my heart, I'm nothing without them, I lived for them not me. I really hate myself and I'm tired of it.
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