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Dear Diary

Published on 14 October 2017 at 23:00

Today I don't feel very well. I slept reasonably well, but my thoughts are out of control. Will I be to blame for my mother's death? Have I really been the reason she started drinking so much? Sometimes I really wonder if I'm not crazy. From childhood I have been the problem in our family. I don't really think about suicide, haven't made any plans for it.

But I think too often about death, what happens when a fatal accident happens. Where am I going, will I meet my mama again? Do I come back in another body? These thoughts scare me. What also scares me enormously is my future. I am in huge debt. Have a huge backpack of problems. I have not had enough education to get a decent job. I actually always ran from my problems. I still do. I don't dare to build my future because I don't know if I deserve it.

I really kid myself sometimes. I tell everyone around me that I am doing well. But really I'm not doing well. I live in two worlds. I have two identities, two completely different personalities. If I had the chance to restart my whole life from the moment I was born. Then I will immediately seize this opportunity.

Despite the fact that people often tell me that you can now make a new start immediately. But what they don't understand is that it can't. I've been through so much. And I've trusted and told so many people in the past. I never saw or spoke to these people again, because they couldn't handle it, they didn't understand me. Since then I haven't told anyone anything. This person with all the misery I am alone when I am alone and no longer among people. The person I am in everyday life tells 5 percent of her life, always has a smile on her face and pretends to be who she really is.

I feel sad, not just because Mom passed away 14 days ago. But also because I no longer know who I am. I want to be happy, I also want to find someone in my life, someone who will cheer me up. But also someone who appreciates me for how I really am and can be. But unfortunately this has not worked for me for seven years. Last night I did a test online to see if I might be depressed. The highest you could score to have the real thing was 49. My score was 62. The advice was therefore to inform my doctor and talk to a psychiatrist. Because the chance is very high that I am severely depressed.

When I was younger I lived in different institutions because my parents thought I would be mentally retarded. Even when I turned twenty-one, my mother requested another test from Reinier van Arkel, because she thought I would have PDD-NOS. This is a disorder. I told her every time that there was and would be nothing wrong with me. After a long period of treatment at Herlaarhof (2000-2007) I naturally went mad. I didn't like it at all there. From there I went to live with my mother and sister. My parents were already in a divorce. My mother was already drinking an awful lot of alcohol during this time and always favored everyone except me. Because I was the black sheep.

At one point I just felt left out. I did not belong to this family. Everyone was happy except me. I always got into an argument with my mother or had a fight with my sister again. Who then arrived at my mother crying. And then of course I would always have done it wrong. In these moments I had had enough.

My mother used to lock me up in my room often enough for punishment. I was also hit in the face often enough. In these moments when I was locked in my room, which of course I didn't like at all. Because I just sat there without food or drink in a locked room. But luckily we had a balcony next to our room. And after one hour, sometimes as much as two hours, I would have had it.

My mother was never that smart because the balcony door was never locked. And when it did, I had hidden a key to the door in my room. I packed a bag with clothes and some stuff without too much noise, because I couldn't sit in my room for another minute. I threw the bag of things off the balcony and down into the grass (or the plants). And our bedroom had a rain pipe attached, so here I climbed down very secretly, making sure my mother wasn't in my parent's bedroom below us. A kind of self-created escape route.

Then I packed up my things and crept forward along the side of the house. Where I always looked carefully, that no one looked out through the kitchen window. And then I walked away. I had plenty of friends that my parents didn't know at all at the time. And then I went there. I always explained little there, but by now they already knew very well how things were going at our home. The downside to this was, however, as soon as my mother found out that I was no longer in the locked room (because someone had rattled me or had seen me running) she always called the police immediately. That I was missing and after a few hours the police really went out to find me.

Then, not much later, I was in the back of a police car, which then took me home. When I ran away from home too many times and was brought back by the police, at one point it was enough for my parents. And my mother called in the doctor again, because I expressed a lot of suicidal tendencies during this period. I even talked to friends about not seeing life anymore. These friends would tell their parents and so it ended up with my parents.

My parents had already split up, of course. And I actually didn't want to live with my mom anymore, I just couldn't handle it. So I went to Dad to ask if I could live there. But daddy had no room for me, just the two oldest (my brother and sister). Because of this, I soon noticed that I was not loved. Nobody loved me, nobody cared about me. This has led me to just had enough one night. One evening I sent a message to a best friend of mine that I didn't like it anymore. I didn't want to live anymore, because what did I live for ... I didn't exist for anyone. I'm an emotional wreck, nobody cares about me. I no longer exist.

That evening I picked up my bike from the garage, after I saw my mother sitting at the table like a drunken cat again. My younger sister was already in bed, probably already asleep. My mother doesn't even notice that I slip out. I take my bike out of the garage without too much noise and raise the garage door far enough so that I cannot slide my bike and myself under it and then also press the garage door on the button without getting stuck myself. to sit.

I then check if I really don't see anyone who sees me leaving. Fortunately, I don't see anyone and I slowly start to cycle away. In my head now is only that thought: I don't want to live anymore. I am not worth living. There is no love, only hate. I am not appreciated, just repelled. I cycle towards the bridge "Martinus nijhoff bridge" in Bommel. This connects Zaltbommel withwaardenburg (a2). It takes a bit of cycling, but I am now at the top. I see and hear the cars racing on the A2 motorway. I hide my bike in the bushes so that no one passing by will wonder what is going on.

I carefully walk through the bushes to the edge of the bridge, where you have a beautiful view over the river "De Waal". In the meantime I get a message from my best friend that she has called in her parents, because she is afraid that I want to commit suicide, I read the message and then switched off my phone. I slowly climb over the fence at the edge of the bridge, everything is racing through my head, I can no longer think clearly. The only thing I want is not to have to live like this anymore, in fear, in hate and in sorrow.

Some time must have passed by now, because the moment I want to jump I hear a voice behind me. A female voice. She introduces her and her partner, they are from the police. She tries to convince me that this is not the way, that I still have a whole life ahead of me and that there are other solutions. Eventually she gets me to the point where I no longer dare to jump, both officers help me off the railing and put my bicycle in the back of the bus and take me to a temporary emergency shelter (because I am supervised by youth care, they do not take me home).

When I arrived at the emergency shelter, I see my family guardian, who was appointed by the juvenile court a few years ago after we had several hearings, because neighbors once called in child protection. My family guardian explains to me that it is better for me if I am admitted for a while. From tomorrow I will be transferred to "De Schutse". This is through entrea, a kind of youth care and is located in my hometown. This is because my school is located there and my life takes place there and they actually want to keep it all as normal as possible for me. This emergency admission is necessary so that they can help me get everything back on track. And I see my life again. This time I don't have to say anything, I am still not 18 years old so my mother decides.

Father is not in the picture and mother agrees. I sleep once in the emergency hospital in Nijmegen and tomorrow I will be transferred to "De Schutse". My mom will be bringing a suitcase and boxes with all my stuff early next week. It is unknown how long I will have to stay here. But remember one thing, it is for your own future they said.

When I think back in time when this all happened, I often think about why I didn't jump right away. Why did it have to take so long before I realized I still had to jump. I also often ask myself why God has mapped this out for me. Everything is arranged from above, my aunt always says. Well they could have given me a better and nicer life. Because the way I look at it, God hates me. Because my life hasn't been great.

Institutions, internal schools, various surveys and tests. Note bene when I turned twenty-one. And refuse. Because my mother always got her way. If you have lived in institutions for more than 60 percent of your life so far and have been through bad things, it will stop once and of course you never want that again. Of course, after weeks of talking and research, nothing came out at all. They just said that they could take me in for six weeks and investigate whether I might have a personality disorder. I made it clear to them and my mom that they can forget that.

I even told my mother and her husband that they can take themselves in. I will never start again. In the meantime I was there in tears, I also told them that I have experienced so many traumas in recent years and never start recordings or settings again. I literally said: I'd rather die than be admitted. Strong statements for someone of twenty-one. But people should go through it themselves to understand what I went through as a child.

Posted on: 14-10-2017


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