I am a 24 year old recent college grad with her Bachelors in Criminal Justice. I work two jobs being a drug and alcohol counselor and a wellness attendant at a gym. I am always seen with a smile on my face, and it's my job to make you happy. It's my job to appear chipper, happy, and upbeat while providing the best care for you no matter what job you see me at.

All while I'm screaming inside.

I'm screaming inside because I hate myself. I'm screaming inside because I hate you. I hate you while I don't even know you or your name. I'm screaming inside because the stress of my life is taking over, and I have no where to go. I'm screaming inside because I don't have a good relationship with my parents or other people.

My life growing up appeared great. My parents are both still married, they cared about me, they gave me everything I could possibly need while I was growing up. I was in band, I danced and played soccer while I was growing up... but I still always felt lonely when it came to my parents.

My dad is non-confrontational and doesn't show emotion when need be. In fact, most of my teenage years, he tried to dictate what I should wear, what I should listen to, and who I should hang out with. Forget the fact that I was bullied for all 13 years (kindergarten included) of my grade school life... what really sucked was those were the people he wanted me to hang out with because they were the "good, popular kids." It broke my heart that my father could not accept me for who I was... it's why he doesn't know I'm bisexual to this day. I'm afraid that I will never be good enough, and in some way that fear has been realized.

I started to gain weight in college due to stress and poor diet, like the majority of my freshman class. My Dad's mother (Mimi) would say how fat I was getting, pinch my stomach and call me chunky/chubby/heavy. I weighed 170 while being 5'6 at the time... I wasn't heavy at all. No one in my family stood up for me. My family told me that I need to be 170 again; I weigh 240 with muscle because I lift. This has been said to me as recently as last month by multiple people of my family. My doctor finally had to tell me that I'm a healthy build, that I'm not over weight, that it's muscle and that I can lose 40 lbs and be in perfect shape medically and that I should keep doing what I am doing. My family thinks he's wrong (even though he's the doctor) and give me dirty looks whenever I eat something quick from a fast food chain (which rarely happens anymore.)

My mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor (non cancerous) when I was about 8-9 years old. It effects her emotional and impulse control. So I don't blame her for anything because it's not her fault. I love her and my father very much... I just feel whenever I want to talk about my emotions or my feelings that I have no where to go. When I would try to talk to them, I got bitchy responses and was told it was my fault people made fun of me and bullied me and assaulted me in school. I had no comfort from my parents; my mom medically couldn't, and my dad didn't offer any.

So I stopped talking about how I felt altogether just to save my breath.

Then I started to become more emotional because I couldn't talk about things. I started to get angry and upset while wanting to be by myself and just not be bothered. I wanted to hang out with people who liked me-- and sometimes those weren't the best people, but they cared about me. I was never forced into drinking or drug use while a teenager. I never did any illegal activities with those friends. We normally sat around, listened to music, played sports, and talked about life. I knew a lot of those friends smoked marijuana, but none of them did it around me out of respect for me. My parents still hated a majority of them. I felt alone everywhere I went.

For those of you who have made it this far, it has taken me 6 MONTHS to write this, and I thank you for being this patient for reading about my life. The only reason why I'm dwelling on detail is because I had the sad feeling that there are others like me out there who have parents who place this mask on their life, yet in reality they aren't what they put themselves out to be.

I want you to know that you are not alone. You are not the only one, and others are fighting just as much as you are.

Sadly, what some others in my situation have a habit of doing is getting into a relationship that is outright toxic. It's nasty, it's bad, it's disgusting. However, we stay because we feel that we need that person for whatever reason, or we are afraid to leave them for a number of reasons.

I did this... I got into a relationship with a horrible person who put on a front for months for him to reel me in, then he sucked all joy and happiness from me. We broke up for a month, and I never should have taken him back. But I did, and I had to deal with the consequences. He abused me every way possible, and it took me years to safely leave him. But yet I still went after guys like him... maybe because they were just as desperate for a love that they needed in their life, like I needed one in mine.

I went off to college and the abuse got worse. I was an 18 year old college girl with a cell phone who liked to text more than calling. When he and I broke up, my mother came up to my room and finally asked me why I was thinking of putting a PFA against him. I told her that he would not stop bothering me, and I was not feeling comfortable-- he was telling me that he would tell my parents on how bad my mental health was getting and that they wouldn't love me anymore. He was also telling me that I had to stay with him because no other man would want to deal with someone as "fucked up" as me. She called Verizon and had him blocked from my cell and had the ability to block restricted numbers placed onto my phone. She got the bill that month and noticed that between our (his and mine) numbers, there were 32,000 messages between us. In June, I had 1,250 messages, and that had been consistent until this day.

I did not sleep as well. I had nightmares, I rarely ate, and people yelling scared the shit out of me. I decided to go to a doctor and was diagnosed with PTSD (non military related.) My parents did not believe the diagnosis because at that time it was only normal for veterans to have PTSD, and it took them a lot of convincing to change their opinions.

It got better though... I am now healthy, (not) wealthy, and a little bit wiser. I do not trust as easily and I keep my guard up. As I said before, I do not blame my parents for their upbringing or their disabilities. I truly love my parents.

However...

I have been abused. I have my physical and emotional scars. I am still smiling, I am strong, I will get through this, and to those who could relate with my story, you will too.