I'm 19 and my whole life has been a constant struggle.  
Since I was a kid I had to watch my mother live through constant depressive or manic episodes due to her bipolar disorder, my father was almost never home and still today is not very present. It even got worse when my little sibling was born, because I've been trying my best not to have him living through the same pain I had to live, giving him the best childhood possible.  
During middle school I struggled with my body and all the bullying I got led me to s-h. Things seemed to get a little better during high-school, but my mother fell into alchoolism and I was the one left to take care of literally anything about me, her and my sibling, cause my father was away for work most of the week. She even risked to have a car crash with me and my sibling in the car once.   
Then one year later during another manic episode she kicked out my father and literally exorcized me cause she was sure I was possessed by the devil, so my only choice was to gather my things and leave with my sibling.  
That was the last straw, my father decided to divorce her and we went to live with him and his parents. Turns out my grandparents are two narcissists who can't tolerate anything done wrong, so this led me to totally closing up and not being able to express myself anymore, and still today I feel totally numb. With covid happening my mental health went even more shit, so at some point I finally went to a therapist and got a diagnosis for generalized anxiety, thanks to his help I managed somehow to rebond a bit with my mother durint 2021.   
Then, out of nowhere, I found her drunk so I had to drive her to the hospital and not even a week later she passed, due to a cardiac arrest. And no, my father didn't fucking know how to give my sibling the news so I was the fucking one telling a kid their mother was gone forever. The face they made when I gave them the news will be in my nightmares forever.  
I forced myself to be the strong one for the sakes of my sibling so still I haven't even grieved properly, in the meantime I got a taste of normal life by starting college in another city, even if this made me quit therapy. Yeah, sometimes I did breakdown while I was away (mostly due to a toxic relationship I had gotten myself in, but I was strong enough to cut it off immediately), but when I came home for Christmas my anxiety rose again and not only I had panic attacks, I also developed derealization and misophonia.  
By this point I just feel empty and I needed to tell someone my story so far.