Mental Health

A Home Is Different From A House

The past three days at CCY have been a bit of a mess. I have had a break down every day since Wednesday, and for one very good reason: I had to go home to my sisters. So not only was I crying out of exhaustion and the need to go home, because if you think this was an easy going camp, then you’d be wrong, but I also had to deal with the thought of what exactly be going home too.

Let’s be honest. My home life? Not stellar. My little sisters make my life a living hell, every second of every day. They call me worthless, disgusting, fat, and all these other horrible words. They tell me to go kill myself and scream when my shirt rides up a little because I’m that repulsive to them. They do everything they can to make my life a living hell, including using my birth name and purposefully mis-gendering me every time they can. I literally cannot walk downstairs without being told that no one wants me there and that I’m a selfish brat.

It freaking sucks.

And so this week, I’ve had to come to terms with the thought of what home really was. In one of my classes, I had to anonymously write a fear, because facing it is the easiest way to get over it. I admitted that I was afraid of my sisters and that I’ll never know what home is. I was not ready to admit this, I think. Since that day on Tuesday, I’ve been a complete wreck. I’ve been crying every day, I’ve been anxious, I’ve been scared. I’m way too exhausted to want to stay at camp. But I’m so afraid of my sisters that I don’t want to go home.

I want to go someplace that is emotionally safe and nurturing, someplace I can relax and be myself without getting yelled at for it. I want to go somewhere I can be happy and recharged and…. and it’s really, really upsetting and extremely depressing that I don’t actually have a place like that. I don’t even have a person who can make me feel safe and who can be strong for me so I don’t have to be, for once.

And this probably seems like I’m using my blog as a therapy session, but I swear I have a point. I don’t seem to have a home right now. I’ve got a house, and food, and a good life, sure. Just not a home. Not with my sisters here. And you may be in the same boat as me. You may not have someplace emotionally, or even physically, safe. I can tell you right now, that I understand. That’s why I am writing this. So you know that someone out there gets it. So that you know that someone out there is in the same boat, and so that maybe we can find a home in each other.

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