I’ve tried to kill myself multiple times at 11 years old.
My mother resents me, calls me fat, so I starved myself. The name calling continued, and for my physical check-up this year, I got skinnier. She started pressuring me to eat more, and flip flops like a fish out of water between calling me hippo and a lump of sticks. She will get upset because my little brother isn’t good at Spanish. She will get upset if I brush my hair. She will get upset if I don’t. She will get upset if I read. She will get upset if I don’t. She will get upset if I go outside. She will get upset if I don’t. She will get upset if I try to exercise. She will get upset if I don’t. She will get upset if I talk to boys. I can’t go to sleepovers, while my brothers can, because I’ll get raped. I’m constantly walking on eggshells around her, because she’s borderline bipolar. She constantly tells me, “Don’t talk to boys!” and at first I thought it was just a joke. But she will genuinely get angry with me if I so much as even mention a boy. Just a masculine name is enough to set her off, she’s a ticking time bomb doomed to go off no matter what I do. She has a room in my little brother’s room, my older brother’s room, and mine. She has no respect for our privacy, I’m not even allowed to close my door. Sometimes, she will watch me sleep.
My father is a sexist a******, excusing making me cry with, “It’s just a joke. Men are jokers.” As if I’ll transform like a 1990s magical girl. He will be angry with me as well if my little brother is struggling with school. He will be proud of my younger brother for a 70, yet yell at me because I got an 89 instead of a 90. He pressures me and tries to convince me that my only role in this hell of a life is to have a husband, a bunch of kids, and die. I’m transgender, and I prefer women over men.
When I vent, I’m told to s*** it up, kill myself, get slapped in the face with “same”, or just be totally ignored. My friends are terrible people, they are ableist
