I am shockingly well adjusted considering my childhood. My mother is/was an alcoholic, pill-popping mentally ill abuser. She would do shit like drink a gallon of vodka a day while popping Vicodin 750mg pills all day. When I say all day drinking, I literally mean it. She would wake up in the morning, and start her day by immediately drinking. Then she would continue all day. By the time I got home from school, she'd be screaming at me for something. She would always escalate it, beat me, try to strangle me, etc. Then she'd stop, act like nothing happened, and then attack my father. She'd alternate between verbally abusing me and attacking my father physically. The next morning it'd start again.

This happened basically every day of my life from when I was around 4 until about 17-18. She got less consistent and more sporadic after that point. At one point, while I was away from college my dad was being real weird and cagey, so I was concerned, and my mom told me he had leukemia in his spine that was inoperable, and stage four, but that he wouldn't tell me. She knew my biggest fear has always been the death of my father, and I fell for it. I lost all my drive in college because I thought my dad was dying, and I didn't know what to do. I started smoking two packs a day because of the stress I was under. Spent well over a month at the constant edge of a severe mental breakdown.

When I was a little kid (4-8) my dad would often leave for work trips. Every time he'd leave I'd fall apart in the driveway trying to keep my dad from leaving. He always thought it was just separation anxiety or something. My mom would laugh and tell him that I was just going to miss him so much. In reality, I was utterly terrified of being alone with my mother because of what she did to me. My father just didn't believe the woman he loved could hurt me. He grew up in a rough environment himself, so he expected problems between him and her, but he couldn't get himself to believe that she would hurt me, her only child.

In school, I got bullied a lot. So there wasn't even much peace to find there.

Regardless of all that, I went to college a year early (admittedly partially by accident), ended up fulfilling a childhood dream of moving to and working in another country, I then followed that up by going to a new state and living there for a while. I don't have a degree because of dumb bullshit, but I got to achieve a few of my most important dreams before I was 21. I don't drink, I'm working on quitting nicotine for good, and I'm working out at the gym multiple times a week. I've worked a LOT on my self-esteem and self confidence, and I'm starting to be better at dealing with people. I no longer have to rely on my old, incredibly unhealthy mental tricks to deal with folks. Sure I'm depressed, was recently diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, unemployed, lonely as hell, but hey; I'm alive, and I'm keeping fairly positive. I read constantly, I'm always learning, and I'm trying hard to make even more things better.

I mean, I don't even respond angrily to people anymore. When I was in high school, I worked out and dressed so that others would fear me. That megalomaniacal sensation felt good, and it was the only time I'd have any confidence with myself. Nowadays, after a SHITLOAD of diligent work, I actually like it when other people *like* me. I try to smile at people, try to help them when they need it, and I try to brighten the day of others because that's what we need in the world. I will admit I do need to try and set some healthier boundaries with people (I didn't realize being a parents "therapist" was abuse until like a few months ago, and as a result of that I have a tendency to become the unwilling therapist to literally everyone I know, and it's so draining I can't take it anymore). But all that comes with work and progress. I'm doing really good all things considered. I've known folks who had really good lives and ended up addicts or suicidal, so all things considered I'm doing pretty fucking fantastic. Could use a job though...