Hey there. I have been having a bit of a hard time lately. Or  rather I've always been having a bit of a hard time. I've managed to isolate myself so much. I lost my last friend two years ago. That friend was validly upset about my lack of support to her. I had forgotten her birthday. At the time I was struggling with quite a few things. She was upset that she had texted a reminder of it and an invitation out. My phone wasn't on at the time and I never received it, nor did I remember of my own accord. When I managed to crawl out of my financial and depressive hole, I found she had blocked my number, and she even blocked me on Pinterest, the only social media site she could convince me to get on. Which made me upset as well. After a heated argument, we were no longer friends anymore. 

My adoptive mother (also my grandmother) passed away when I was 19 (23 now) and I've yet to get over her loss. She was placed into hospice by a family member, which was far to early of a call in my opinion. What do you mean you're placing my mother in hospice when she was awake, alert and (albeit weakly) talking. I was the last to arrive and most of the family was there before I was. When she passed away, alot of family showed their true greedy colors. Most berated me for not giving them things from the house, but to my defense I was still living there. I've never gotten over what the family did. The only person who managed to check on me was one of my mother's friends. Not family. She would stop by and force me to finish a plate of food. She said I was getting skinny.

My biological parents are both jailbirds. My mother left me behind around the age of 4. My father wrote letters but I would place them in a drawer and never read them. Avoidance, something that is a theme in my life. He came back into my life around 15. I still remember when it happened. My mother asked me to get into the car. When I asked where we were going, she simply stated, "You'll see when we get there." A red flag to most people, but my mother was just secretive like that. I assumed we were going somewhere mundane when we ended up at an airport and an awkward, "Hey, this is your father" commenced. I remember that we went to the grocery store soon after, and I cried and was berated in the isles for not being able to answer "What is your favorite cereal."  

He was an abusive man. I was spanked as a child but I had never been hit full force by an adult man before. He would "spank me" while my mother would close her doors. It would last for seemingly forever until my mother could no longer stand to hear me holler and would pull him off of me. I would lie on the floor. Sobbing alone. He would punch me in places where the bruises wouldn't show. My stomach usually. The force would leave me breathless and blur my vision. He would cover my mouth with his large hands to prevent me from screaming. He would throw me on the bed and force his entire body weight on me, leaving me unable to move. The finale ended up being when he had lost 100 dollars. I had sticky fingers as a child, we were on the poorer side and I found theft to be the easiest way to get what I wanted. He blamed me, tore my room apart. He then let me be, but would stand in the archway of the door while he thought I was sleeping. Early that morning before school, he flung me out of my bed and demanded that I remove my clothing. I showed resistance and he's put his hands around my neck, daring me to scream for my mother. I took off the clothes, bare in just my underwear, but he demanded I take them off as well. I did, and I remember the embarrassment, and the blood dripping down my legs from my period. I was then sent to school. He found his money the next day, offered a small sorry. The child psychologist I was seeing sent me to a "temporary group home." When it was time to leave that home, I saw him and refused to leave. I shortly after told someone what happen and CPS got involved. My father was asked to leave and I was sent to a government program at 16 shortly after, where I stayed until I was 19. 

My mother herself was a strict fundamentalist Christian who was very hard to impress. Praise was very rarely handed. For an example when I came home to show off my high school diploma, she looked up from her reading, glanced at the diploma and said, "Good. That's what you were supposed to do." I don't doubt that my mother loved me. I know she did. But it was hard to understand that love often.

I am now about to be 24 and I've grown to be an insecure and depressive individual. My family openly expresses their disappointment in me and while I try to explain how I feel they don't seem to understand and chalk it up to my lack of gratitude. I've felt like a burden my entire life, someone else's problem that no one really knows what to do with. Why should they? I'm not their child and they shouldn't have to deal with my problems. I never feel like I belong anywhere and my entire existence feels troublesome. My insecurity runs rampant across my life and leaves me feeling unsecure at everything I do. I used to think it would just magically get better when I was younger but now I'm a bit older and I'm starting to realize that its not. A lot of the time I fear the biggest contribution I could make is a good life insurance policy. I am tired from the weight of lugging around my heavy heart. I do not feel hopeful for the future and I resign myself to a routine of miserable comfort. Anything outside of what I know, terrifies me and leaves me frozen in place.

I know I cannot continue to live my life in such a manner. I do not know how to change it. I do not know what answers I'm looking for here. Maybe just advice. I'm sorry that this is so long and such and info dump. Thank you for your time.