I am horribly angry at everyone. I know people will think its teen angst, but I think its been established that I am far from being a normal teenager. I haven't even rebelled and I'm turning 17 this summer. I have never done illegal or harmful substances. I've never had sex. I'm not allowed to date until I am 18 and I have followed my mother's rules. I don't have a curfew, because I never go out unless I'm with family or I go to therapy. I don't fight with my mother. I don't get violent. There's written evidence that she sees me as a very respectful person. Every adult who knows me well can see that I am wildly different than any other teenager. The reason I am saying all of this is because a member here had chalked up all my frustrations to teen angst a few years back. Later on, I was diagnosed with juvenile idiopathic arthritis, sleep apnea, four mental/emotional disorders, and a Vitamin D deficiency. To top it all off, according to the NYC Department of Education, the CDC, and every other trusted health company, I am disabled. Don't try to negate that. I can't function in a general education environment. I even get anxious ordering food on the phone. I am currently enrolled in a special ed school. Back to the point. I have a lot of anger towards a lot of people. My parents, my grandfather, and my aunt are at the top of the list. They love me and I love them. It's not a matter of authentic hatred, even if my uncle says he sees pure hatred in my eyes. I feel they have wronged me. I haven't heard apologies from all of them. I certainly don't see repentance. My aunt and my mom were in deep denial about my issues. I tried asking to see a professional and I tried to get my mom to see my agony, but she didn't take it seriously. She laughed, she got offensive, she interrupted constantly, she got defensive. Every time I initiated a serious conversation about it, I ended up being in more pain and I would just run to my room crying. My aunt wasn't better by much. She was the same, except she didn't laugh. In fact, she seemed angrier. My uncle (her hubby) knew I wasn't all right and he would tell her that. She would get angry at him. He knew that my rocking back and forth, my pacing, and other stuff I did were not normal. To finally get the help I needed, I exaggerated a few symptoms so my mom would take me to my primary doctor. I had several pages in my journal filled with every affliction I could think of and I showed it to her in her office while my mom was in the examination room. My doctor told her to get me into counseling. She specified that a school counselor wasn't enough. I remember the look on my mom's face. She was annoyed, maybe even angry. She has an extreme dissent for being told what to do with her life and her parenting. But she still didn't believe I wasn't alright until I began cutting myself. Before I began, I already had cutting on my mind and I was really considering it not just as a coping mechanism, but as a way to show my family that I was not okay. I started cutting myself November 2011. My plan was to cover my body with cuts and show my family. My doctors saw the cuts and told my mom. She was angry, but she cried that night. I only know because she told me. Later on, I began taking anti-depressants. My aunt was trying to convince my mom to get me off, but my mom told her I had cut myself before. I feel that if they weren't in denial I wouldn't have had to suffer as much. I realize no one wants to realize someone they love has issues, but their denial worsened and elongated my suffering. If they understood and saw my pain earlier, I wouldn't see the need in harming myself. I know I shouldn't hold on to the past, but this hasn't been resolved completely. My family taught me to believe anything is possible with God, but at the same time they tell me to think realistically about my career choices. I wanted to be in the entertainment industry. I liked the idea of acting and singing, but what I really enjoyed was screenwriting (I still do). Before this aspiration, I felt like I had no talent whatsoever. I would say I wanted to be a pediatrician to whoever asked. But I didn't really want to do that. I would just say that because I thought it was a good career. I wasn't taught to dream big, I learned on my own. When I wanted to be in that industry, I had ambition and I discovered I had incredible creativity. I had big hopes. I would even pray, asking God to give me what I needed for my dreams. I knew if I didn't ask, I wouldn't receive. I would tell my my mom and aunt that I would pray for God to help me in this. I would tell them it's possible with God. Their argument: God isn't going to do that, it's not likely He will do that. They were basically telling me that while God can do everything and anything, and he has done this for people in the past, he won't do it for me because I don't have the connections and I don't have enough talent. Gee, thanks! My father told me he'd be ashamed of me if I were an actor or singer. I'm still screenwriting. I'm still dreaming. When I get my Screenwriters Guild Award or my Oscar, I'm keeping it in an awards case next to the formal apology from my family. I'm declaring it, in Jesus name! My grandfather tells people what they should do. He will always share his opinion. The annoying part is he is right half the time. He never puts it gently. For example, I had just gotten out of a psych hospital and he told me I should stay for a year if I go back since I am so ungrateful. According to my mom and aunt he has mellowed out a lot. I guess I should be grateful I wasn't born sooner. My dad - /t17036-a-daughter-s-forgiveness?highlight=a+daughter+s+forgiveness Just read. I still get angry at them, especially my mom. While my mother is a good person and she loves me, she has done the bare minimum in raising my sister and I. She put us in school, she took us to the doctor, she made sure we were never alone and she never abused us. However, the part of making us functioning, independent members of society was left out. Here's what I mean: I am a very messy person. My room is covered with dirty clothes that I still wear. The entire house is filthy. I am too lazy to clean it up. I wasn't consistently told and taught to pick up after myself. Independant adults pick up after themselves, they keep their living space clean, they have good hygiene, they are social, and they are not afraid to travel to the corner store alone. I wasn't taught to do any of those. Yes, she is a single mom and it was hard for her, but considering we lived with our grandparents, and our aunt and uncle until I was 12, she had it easier than most. My mom still isn't careful with her words, and sometimes it's intentional. She has said she wishes she was childless, she has called us bad daughters, she says she needs to go on an extended vacation without us. She doesn't mean it and she usually apologizes. But it still happens. You know what usually causes her to say these things: I didn't take out the trash, there's too many dishes to clean, the trash can is overflowing, the leftovers got spoiled, and other petty things. I know she is having an incredibly rough time with the bills and her health but that doesn't justify her actions. If it doesn't justify her actions, then why should I let it go every single time? Why should I be the doormat? Why can't I say something? I feel my actions are futile, but I'm still very passionate about this. The bottled-up anger is burning a hole in me. No matter how much I am resistant to it, I know I need to forgive her. But how? Forgiveness is an action. I could tell her, God, and myself that I have forgiven her till I'm blue in the face, but it won't take away how angry, hurt, and upset I am. I will still tear up when I think of the past. I will still feel upset. I will still live with my mother who will still say rude things. I will still be angry. Honestly, I don't see a solution. I know God can make a way, but there's a barrier. I am angry at God!!! Not because he let all this happen, but because nothing has changed. I have tried to get closer to him, be filled with the Holy Spirit, and just get him to speak with me in a way I'm sure its him all to no avail. I am brokenhearted. I have soul wounds. I know God loves and wants me. I believe what the bible tells me. Its just that getting my life in order is more than a one-time prayer thing. In order for me to get better, I need to be consistent with prayer and reading scripture. But how can I do that if I get incredibly frustrated, cry, and feel like screaming, throwing things, breaking objects, harming myself. Trying to get better is making me feel worse and it feels like God won't break the barrier. I can't break it at all, even if I had help. I can't tell God that if he doesn't help me, I'll jump of the nearest bridge. He knows I wouldn't go through with it. I can't bribe him with my allegiance. I doesn't work that way. I feel helpless.