Mostly vegetarian with occasional organic meat.
I've never been on meds and in terms of mental health...up until 6th grade, I was bullied, taken advantage of (homework not
that), sexually harassed by girls (early bloomer in fourth grade), stalked, and ostracized. My mom was a single working mom and my five years older than me brother (we're on better terms now) would rather hang out with his friends than look after her eight year old sister who was left alone until nine at night. I pretty much became self-reliant at that point from cleaning, cooking, and trying to deal with all this shit happening.
I already knew at that point that teachers weren't going to help me, my mum already had enough on her plate, the bullies' parents would just roll their eyes and scoff at the remark that their kid was snapping bras, throwing balls frequently at my head (one side of head is slopes down a little), pouring milk on my work, shoving me off lunch tables, and turning a whole school against me. The whole time I thought:
"Just grit your teeth and block it all out because it'll be over soon--just close your eyes and count to ten. At least you're not being raped"
Around sixth grade, I had enough and tried to commit suicide with asphyxiation (sealed bathroom with three bottles of Lysol). I wrote at suicide note and left it on the fridge:
"I'm just fucking tired. I don't want to fucking live any fucking more and no fucking one will fucking miss me because fuck! I fucking don't have any friends, my mom can't fucking help me! My brother won't fucking help me! I'm fucking better off dead because no one will fucking not know I'm fucking gone!"
I don't know what snapped me out of it but I was pretty close to dying before I drag myself out of the tub and out the door. I probably didn't want them to think they could beat me.
I forgot the note was still on the fridge. My mom just yelled at me. No counseling. Just a bombardment of how stupid I was.
Fucking hell.
I started reading much grimmer material than my usual fare (Goosebumps and Dickens became 1984, War and Peace, Clive Barker, Stephen King, Freud, war crimes, human trafficking, serial killers, torture, and methods of suicide all while looking up videos of human dissection and surgery. I strangely listened to music/anime you
wouldn't listen to/watch after a suicide attempt (Bohemian Rhapsody, Tumbling Down, Adam's Song, We're in this Together Now, Kids aren't Alright, all of Evagelion).
7th grade
WAS AWESOME!
I made my first real best friend, Rebecca Collins (still buds with our own weird lexicon). She's the first person who hung out me nearly every day and the first person whose house I went to actively (my "fake" friends made me do their homework/clean their house in exchange for "friendship", my mum was paranoid about rapists so trick or treating either), parent are still chillax and actually anticipate my visits!
Prior to Becky, I have NEVER socialized properly with anyone. Which is why my speech patterns are so erratic. I slur over words, talk too fast, too much info, gesture frequently, and have pitch fluctuation.
Started exploring cooking (started off with Italian/French) and graphic novels. Failed miserably until last Thursday I guess?
My OCD neurotic perfectionist tendencies started surfacing around here as well as my erratic sleep cycles/behavior (waking up at 4 am to draw/read).
NOT AWESOME
My brother and my mom's constant arguing enough that I had to blast music through my phones to make myself partially deaf.
9th or 10th grade
I can tell there is a rift between my mom and me. I wanted to go to art school (initially for special effects and costume design for movies then character design then video game programming, and finally graphic novels).
She told me she wished she aborted me and never had my brother in the first place because her life would have been so much better. (My mom had me when she was 40. She had a very small frame while I grew faster than usual. The choice was either have me or kill her. I came out a month early)
Moved out for college. Got flack. Graduated with 3.97 May this year...still getting flack.
Simply put: I never had medication, counseling, or any support to get through the first 12 shit years of my life. I read psychology books to diagnosis what the hell is wrong with me. I don't know if my mental strength is just that kick ass or what. But I pretty much express what goes through my mind every day and my crap childhood in my art.
I know I'm bipolar because I can become submissive, aggressive, passive, monotonous, childish at the drop of a dime. I hold on to nostalgia not because I miss it but because I NEVER got a childhood to begin with (constant moving, father died of cancer at age 3, feelings of abandonment, negligence, ostracization, neurosis, suicide attempt, being told I shouldn't have been born, constant talking behind my back, saying I'm horribly obese (5'4--145lb, overweight I think).
When people ask me why I am such a good artist or a success, my answer will be I got the fuck end of the deal as a child.
If you haven't figured it out yet, I come from an Asian upper lower class immediate family from a nearly all doctor/engineer/accountant extended family.
I didn't think this thread would derail into the truth about me that is hidden from nearly everyone I know but...it felt good to just fucking vent. Beats bottling it up and coughing up blood and becoming addicted to Tic-Tacs for a year (no seriously that was 6th grade as well)
I also have a +35 hr/wk job and about $10,000 in student loans so I'm not just dicking around with my art. And no, I don't drink coffee (a cup a month maybe) but I drink macha green tea scientifically, jog, and do yoga.
*I just proofread this...I sound like a potential serial killer now...(I have a very bleak sense of humor). Holy shit this is a two page expose!
