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Have been through great pains in your life and if you have please share
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27 / M / So Cal
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Posted 2/13/08
my gf thinks im cheating on her T.T
right b4 valentine day, which is also our one month aniversary

although it seem stupid compare to stuffs you guys went through, it really hurts me..
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25 / F / Yokohama, Japan
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Posted 2/13/08
In continuation . . .

Around the time of the 9/11 terrorist attack - so that would be 2001, I guess, I'm bad at remembering any stuff from when I was little - my mom found out that my dad was having an affair with a woman at work. I have this really out-of-focus memory of my mother crying on the sofa with 9/11 coverage on CNN on TV; talk about juxtaposition. I guess this, on top losing my grandpa the year before, was too much - she became depressed.

My mom's depression effectively destroyed my home as I knew it, since my dad was a typical Japanese salaryman who left before I woke up and came home after my bedtime so I never got to talk to him, and I couldn't talk to him on times like weekends anyways because I didn't speak Japanese well enough and he didn't know English. The worst thing was that my dad's attitude was as if he couldn't care less; he kept up his affair with the woman even though my mom got obsessed with trying to break them up. (She started setting times for him to call her when he was going to come home or something, and if he was late she would repeatedly call him because she'd be insecure and didn't know whether he was out with the woman or not. As often as not, he was.) I didn't know my dad well back then, but I had this admiration for the father figure in general, so I was always defending him, making excuses like his battery must be out, he must be on the train and have turned his cell phone off, he must be out of range. I was usually wrong.

My mom's depression reached a peak when I was in fifth grade. She decided to be admitted to a mental hospital for a month or so, so that she could try and recuperate before the next term she had to teach. So she was far away - too far, for me, because I was in fifth grade, had almost never gone outside a thirty-minute bus ride range from the apartment alone, and couldn't speak Japanese well enough to be sure of getting directions if I traveled somewhere alone. Any semblance of a normal house life temporarily ended here, since my mom was my world . . . not that there was much left after my mother tried to commit suicide twice. (The first time she fell asleep before she could take enough to really hurt her. I came home after an extracurricular activity or something, and rang the downstairs doorbell - I'd forgotten my key - and I got my mom, who sounded really lethargic. At the door, she didn't even bother to open it. I thought she must me angry at me for forgetting again, called my dad to ask him to come back early, and waited quietly. In the end, my mom had shut the chain lock, too, and we had to borrow a screwdriver to get in. The ambulance came and they pumped her stomach, she was all right. The second time she took a lot more; she was in an argument with my dad, and I guess she just took a load of pills . . . I was trying to avoid the argument by hiding in my room and didn't figure out what happened for a while, because it was difficult for me to translate the rapid-fire Japanese of the argument. When I did figure out, I ran out and screamed for my dad to call the ambulance because I didn't think I could - he refused. So I called; I feel sorry for the staff at the other end, they got a hysterical ten-year-old who didn't even speak Japanese properly. According to the doctors, that time she'd taken enough to actually kill her if she'd had enough time.)

Since my mom was keeping such close tabs on my dad, he was forced to come home earlier. We didn't get along well despite my wish for a father figure; mostly because we spoke different languages and didn't understand each other at all. (I was also culturally mostly American.) We got into so many fights, but I could never fight back because I didn't know how. All I got was this really bad impression that he was always scolding me or yelling at me, that I was always wrong or bad. I didn't like it, but my blind idolization of my dad made me convinced that he was right and that I really wasn't worthwhile. This just cemented the inferiority from the third grade bullying.

When my mom was hospitalized, my dad only bothered to visit a few times in that month or so . . . it was tough on me. (I'm not sure, but this could have been at my mom's request, so I don't totally blame my dad for this.) But often he wouldn't come home until really late at night now, since my mom wasn't around to hound him. I think he made up for lost time with a vengeance; there was rarely a day that I didn't stay up waiting for him. I was in fifth grade, and I was exceptionally clumsy, so I was forbidden from using the stove; this meant that I couldn't really eat until my dad came home and made something. (At first I survived on canned foods and instant microwave things that had originally been intended for my lunches - I bought food for lunch instead, or didn't eat lunch, saving it for the night instead - but then we ran out because my dad didn't stock up on them.) So I'd often stay hungry until one or two in the morning, sometimes later. I was convinced that my dad worked so late . . . my mom later told me that she found out that my dad had been going out with the woman . . . one exceptionally late time, they'd been watching a movie. I can't believe he let his daughter stay without food for more than twelve hours - lunch was presumably at noon!

One fight in particular stands out . . . it was when he came home pretty late. I was hungry, therefore cranky - come on, I was ten! When he came home, he was in a bad mood, and I guess I wasn't helping his mood. He got mad about the stupidest thing, it was about the waffle iron my mom and I had bought before she'd been hospitalized; we hadn't decided a place for it yet, so the machine was next to the rice cooker and the irons were on the floor, covered by a towel. All I understood of his tirade was that he was yelling about the waffle iron, so I just repeatedly replied that the machine was put away in the place we had temporarily made for it, beside the rice cooker. Finally, he got so angry that he picked up the irons and hit me with them - apparently he'd been referring to the fact that the irons were on the floor. (Not that I'd have been able to tell him that they didn't have a decided place, anyway.)

Things have been bumpy between us since then; my opinion is that he's just too used to treating me like crap to change his ways. He still yells at me for the tiniest things - all that's changed is that I got better at Japanese (he never bothered to master English!) and I can yell right back. (Interesting point: my first native use of Japanese was when I was furious and shouting. This part of being a native speaker was about a year or so ahead of every other part of spoken Japanese. I also use the same vocabulary and language as my dad when he gets mad.) My theory on why he has to treat me like crap is because he needs to feel self-important. He can't put my mom down for fear of a serious regression of her depression, so he turned to me and used me as a target instead. I was ten or so when he started (I was tall and very developed when I was smaller; I'd always be mistaken for two or three years older than I was) and now I'm 16; perfect, because I have an adult's body, yet I'm supposed to be inferior because I'm his daughter, a whole generation younger. He can do whatever he wants without feeling guilty. He won't yell at my little brother, because my brother is 12 whole years younger than me and because he's a guy. (My dad is from a countryside family, which values boys over girls. Really. When I was born, the cashier at the corner convienience store offered his condolences - literally what's said at funerals - because I was a girl!

All this is making me remember everything . . . I might write more if I have time. (I now have tons of homework, though.)
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Posted 2/13/08

dreamweaver49 wrote:

In continuation . . .

Around the time of the 9/11 terrorist attack - so that would be 2001, I guess, I'm bad at remembering any stuff from when I was little - my mom found out that my dad was having an affair with a woman at work. I have this really out-of-focus memory of my mother crying on the sofa with 9/11 coverage on CNN on TV; talk about juxtaposition. I guess this, on top losing my grandpa the year before, was too much - she became depressed.

My mom's depression effectively destroyed my home as I knew it, since my dad was a typical Japanese salaryman who left before I woke up and came home after my bedtime so I never got to talk to him, and I couldn't talk to him on times like weekends anyways because I didn't speak Japanese well enough and he didn't know English. The worst thing was that my dad's attitude was as if he couldn't care less; he kept up his affair with the woman even though my mom got obsessed with trying to break them up. (She started setting times for him to call her when he was going to come home or something, and if he was late she would repeatedly call him because she'd be insecure and didn't know whether he was out with the woman or not. As often as not, he was.) I didn't know my dad well back then, but I had this admiration for the father figure in general, so I was always defending him, making excuses like his battery must be out, he must be on the train and have turned his cell phone off, he must be out of range. I was usually wrong.

My mom's depression reached a peak when I was in fifth grade. She decided to be admitted to a mental hospital for a month or so, so that she could try and recuperate before the next term she had to teach. So she was far away - too far, for me, because I was in fifth grade, had almost never gone outside a thirty-minute bus ride range from the apartment alone, and couldn't speak Japanese well enough to be sure of getting directions if I traveled somewhere alone. Any semblance of a normal house life temporarily ended here, since my mom was my world . . . not that there was much left after my mother tried to commit suicide twice. (The first time she fell asleep before she could take enough to really hurt her. I came home after an extracurricular activity or something, and rang the downstairs doorbell - I'd forgotten my key - and I got my mom, who sounded really lethargic. At the door, she didn't even bother to open it. I thought she must me angry at me for forgetting again, called my dad to ask him to come back early, and waited quietly. In the end, my mom had shut the chain lock, too, and we had to borrow a screwdriver to get in. The ambulance came and they pumped her stomach, she was all right. The second time she took a lot more; she was in an argument with my dad, and I guess she just took a load of pills . . . I was trying to avoid the argument by hiding in my room and didn't figure out what happened for a while, because it was difficult for me to translate the rapid-fire Japanese of the argument. When I did figure out, I ran out and screamed for my dad to call the ambulance because I didn't think I could - he refused. So I called; I feel sorry for the staff at the other end, they got a hysterical ten-year-old who didn't even speak Japanese properly. According to the doctors, that time she'd taken enough to actually kill her if she'd had enough time.)

Since my mom was keeping such close tabs on my dad, he was forced to come home earlier. We didn't get along well despite my wish for a father figure; mostly because we spoke different languages and didn't understand each other at all. (I was also culturally mostly American.) We got into so many fights, but I could never fight back because I didn't know how. All I got was this really bad impression that he was always scolding me or yelling at me, that I was always wrong or bad. I didn't like it, but my blind idolization of my dad made me convinced that he was right and that I really wasn't worthwhile. This just cemented the inferiority from the third grade bullying.

When my mom was hospitalized, my dad only bothered to visit a few times in that month or so . . . it was tough on me. (I'm not sure, but this could have been at my mom's request, so I don't totally blame my dad for this.) But often he wouldn't come home until really late at night now, since my mom wasn't around to hound him. I think he made up for lost time with a vengeance; there was rarely a day that I didn't stay up waiting for him. I was in fifth grade, and I was exceptionally clumsy, so I was forbidden from using the stove; this meant that I couldn't really eat until my dad came home and made something. (At first I survived on canned foods and instant microwave things that had originally been intended for my lunches - I bought food for lunch instead, or didn't eat lunch, saving it for the night instead - but then we ran out because my dad didn't stock up on them.) So I'd often stay hungry until one or two in the morning, sometimes later. I was convinced that my dad worked so late . . . my mom later told me that she found out that my dad had been going out with the woman . . . one exceptionally late time, they'd been watching a movie. I can't believe he let his daughter stay without food for more than twelve hours - lunch was presumably at noon!

One fight in particular stands out . . . it was when he came home pretty late. I was hungry, therefore cranky - come on, I was ten! When he came home, he was in a bad mood, and I guess I wasn't helping his mood. He got mad about the stupidest thing, it was about the waffle iron my mom and I had bought before she'd been hospitalized; we hadn't decided a place for it yet, so the machine was next to the rice cooker and the irons were on the floor, covered by a towel. All I understood of his tirade was that he was yelling about the waffle iron, so I just repeatedly replied that the machine was put away in the place we had temporarily made for it, beside the rice cooker. Finally, he got so angry that he picked up the irons and hit me with them - apparently he'd been referring to the fact that the irons were on the floor. (Not that I'd have been able to tell him that they didn't have a decided place, anyway.)

Things have been bumpy between us since then; my opinion is that he's just too used to treating me like crap to change his ways. He still yells at me for the tiniest things - all that's changed is that I got better at Japanese (he never bothered to master English!) and I can yell right back. (Interesting point: my first native use of Japanese was when I was furious and shouting. This part of being a native speaker was about a year or so ahead of every other part of spoken Japanese. I also use the same vocabulary and language as my dad when he gets mad.) My theory on why he has to treat me like crap is because he needs to feel self-important. He can't put my mom down for fear of a serious regression of her depression, so he turned to me and used me as a target instead. I was ten or so when he started (I was tall and very developed when I was smaller; I'd always be mistaken for two or three years older than I was) and now I'm 16; perfect, because I have an adult's body, yet I'm supposed to be inferior because I'm his daughter, a whole generation younger. He can do whatever he wants without feeling guilty. He won't yell at my little brother, because my brother is 12 whole years younger than me and because he's a guy. (My dad is from a countryside family, which values boys over girls. Really. When I was born, the cashier at the corner convienience store offered his condolences - literally what's said at funerals - because I was a girl!

All this is making me remember everything . . . I might write more if I have time. (I now have tons of homework, though.)


i have had 8 dads i will talk about it later when i have enough time but let me tell you now and if you get mad at be because of this then go ahead but this is what i think your dads a bastard which if I every saw him I could not help but punch him I already hate male but when i hear about male like i have from you from you about your dad it get me so angry just thinking about it. If i was you then when i went to college I would forget about your father all together and move away from your family. Like when i do I am leaving the country to get away from every thing.
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27 / M / Los Angeles, Cali...
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Posted 2/13/08
i think i might have killed someone before. it really freaks me out to think about it.

one time my friends girlfriend ran away from home (she has a really shitty home life) and while she was missing, some dude raped her. so my friend gets us all together to go jump him, and i bring a steel bar with me. so we jump the guy, and we're all scuffling, and i smack him right in the head with the bar. he goes down, out cold. so we pound the SH** out of him some more and run away. i didn't stop to see if he was okay, but i always wonder......

i haven't seen him since, so i hope he's okay. i don't want to be a killer, not this young, even if he was a rapist. i was 17 when we did this. jesus, can you imagine that? having killed someone?

i'm totally freaking myself out right now.

------cut post--------


my gf thinks im cheating on her T.T
right b4 valentine day, which is also our one month aniversary

although it seem stupid compare to stuffs you guys went through, it really hurts me..


if she's about to dump you anyways, prove her right, and cheat on her. just so you can deserve the punishment you're going to get anyways

also, its probably her who's cheating on you and she's feeling guilty about it and transferring her guilt onto you. it happens all the time.
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23 / M / Canada, Vancouver
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Posted 2/13/08
A girl I liked, likes my best friend.
Posted 2/13/08
4 times. i dont want to share it.. *sigh
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27 / M / So Cal
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Posted 2/13/08

MEMPHADON wrote:

i think i might have killed someone before. it really freaks me out to think about it.

one time my friends girlfriend ran away from home (she has a really shitty home life) and while she was missing, some dude raped her. so my friend gets us all together to go jump him, and i bring a steel bar with me. so we jump the guy, and we're all scuffling, and i smack him right in the head with the bar. he goes down, out cold. so we pound the SH** out of him some more and run away. i didn't stop to see if he was okay, but i always wonder......

i haven't seen him since, so i hope he's okay. i don't want to be a killer, not this young, even if he was a rapist. i was 17 when we did this. jesus, can you imagine that? having killed someone?

i'm totally freaking myself out right now.

------cut post--------


my gf thinks im cheating on her T.T
right b4 valentine day, which is also our one month aniversary

although it seem stupid compare to stuffs you guys went through, it really hurts me..


if she's about to dump you anyways, prove her right, and cheat on her. just so you can deserve the punishment you're going to get anyways

also, its probably her who's cheating on you and she's feeling guilty about it and transferring her guilt onto you. it happens all the time.


yay we made up T.T naw i wouldnt have the heart to cheat on her, and i know she wouldnt either. Just that she sometime feel very insecure because her whole life was filled with pains and crap until she met me. she spent almost all her childhood in the hospital bed due to her heart, and she jus went through a heart transplant surgery. Her family is..not the best family in the world..you know what i mean

right now, i jus want to make her as happy as she can be. she might not have that much time to live, we're not certain yet. I pray for her every night, and i'll love her until the day she die, which i hope wont be for a long long long long long long time =)
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Posted 2/14/08
Well theres my life from 4th to 9th grade. And it picked up again recently too.....
Ill post it later on, when I have a computer to use.....
To all these sad stories...you all have my sympathy..

They better not lock this thread....
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30 / M / Mars
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Posted 2/14/08
Being Gay is the hardest,....Bullied everyday by classm8, treated no respect by parents (no presence at all only maids take care of me when I was growing, probably they would visit once a week)...anyways I am always alone, hardly had any friends....bullied by clasm8, beaten by older brother...denied by sister....probably thats it....the thing is I dont worry about it....and a thing more my family hates Gay.... Up until now they dont know Im gay...lols...becus I dress man, talk man, act and speak man...thats why....The thing is I want to be a man but i cant...
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27 / M / So Cal
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Posted 2/14/08

Redgriffin wrote:

Being Gay is the hardest,....Bullied everyday by classm8, treated no respect by parents (no presence at all only maids take care of me when I was growing, probably they would visit once a week)...anyways I am always alone, hardly had any friends....bullied by clasm8, beaten by older brother...denied by sister....probably thats it....the thing is I dont worry about it....and a thing more my family hates Gay.... Up until now they dont know Im gay...lols...becus I dress man, talk man, act and speak man...thats why....The thing is I want to be a man but i cant...


i respect you for that man
stand up for what you believe in. Dont listen to fools, cuz all they want to do is fill your head with doubts. A man shouldnt be treated by whom he love. God made you for a reason, and you should be proud of who you are, cuz you are made from his hands.
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30 / M / Mars
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Posted 2/14/08

pekop3ko wrote:


Redgriffin wrote:

Being Gay is the hardest,....Bullied everyday by classm8, treated no respect by parents (no presence at all only maids take care of me when I was growing, probably they would visit once a week)...anyways I am always alone, hardly had any friends....bullied by clasm8, beaten by older brother...denied by sister....probably thats it....the thing is I dont worry about it....and a thing more my family hates Gay.... Up until now they dont know Im gay...lols...becus I dress man, talk man, act and speak man...thats why....The thing is I want to be a man but i cant...


i respect you for that man
stand up for what you believe in. Dont listen to fools, cuz all they want to do is fill your head with doubts. A man shouldnt be treated by whom he love. God made you for a reason, and you should be proud of who you are, cuz you are made from his hands.


Lols, Thnxs. I just exaggerate some to make it more dramatic...heheheheh
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Posted 2/14/08

juspasby wrote:

getting FUCK in the ASS



Holy shit are you serious?
Did you go prison?Maaan you probly droped the soap to much...
JK

Posted 2/14/08
I beat up my friend this year for being a dickhead and alot of my new classmates are angry at me thinking im a dangerous kid with anger problems =/
I was pretty sad because they're all staying away from me
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27 / M / So Cal
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Posted 2/14/08

Redgriffin wrote:


pekop3ko wrote:


Redgriffin wrote:

Being Gay is the hardest,....Bullied everyday by classm8, treated no respect by parents (no presence at all only maids take care of me when I was growing, probably they would visit once a week)...anyways I am always alone, hardly had any friends....bullied by clasm8, beaten by older brother...denied by sister....probably thats it....the thing is I dont worry about it....and a thing more my family hates Gay.... Up until now they dont know Im gay...lols...becus I dress man, talk man, act and speak man...thats why....The thing is I want to be a man but i cant...


i respect you for that man
stand up for what you believe in. Dont listen to fools, cuz all they want to do is fill your head with doubts. A man shouldnt be treated by whom he love. God made you for a reason, and you should be proud of who you are, cuz you are made from his hands.


Lols, Thnxs. I just exaggerate some to make it more dramatic...heheheheh


still, i respect you ^^ i find nothing wrong with homosexuality, and people that do need to keep their opinions to themselves =)
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27 / F / Vancouverrr.
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Posted 2/14/08
wow lots of sad stories on here T.T

my life's pretty bad but idk
i survived
and because of it i guess im pretty strong ^^

when i was small my dad had anger issues
so
he always beat my mom
and no one stopped him,,
and as i got older
he got better but
he beats me sometimes
especially when hes angry.

suffered from bulimia/anorexia since i was 13
everything i ate
i threw up.
i hated the way i looked.
the fat.
everytime i gained weight i'd punish myself more.
that lasted for about 2 - 4 years on and off.

and i was also suffering from depression.
i have quite a few friends i would say
but sometimes i'd just feel empty.
and feel no need to live anymore.

attempted suicide 3 times.
lols my medical record is probably fucked up... xD
had to go to the emergency room at midnight once
cuz i almost slit my wrist -__-

ummm
never have had lots of really good friends? i mean,
i know a lot of people.
but i dont think i can consider them friends =='' more like..
acquaintances (:
cuz they know me and all but yeah.. don't tell them stuff=/
and at school idk,,
no one to hang out with really.-__-

and my family has been
struggling with money since we came to canada
we almost were bankrupt..
so i can't really buy much stuff,,,
and i had to get my own job to get clothes and stufff....

yeahhhhh.
right now its not great but whateverss
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