I grew up when my paternal grandmother died when I was 4 years old, seeing what it did to my grandfather and my aunts. This is sadly my earliest memory.

I grew up when I realized that my grandfather was lying to me about why my biological father was in prison (trying to molest both my older sisters), he would rather admit it was drugs to me then tell me the truth about my sperm donor. I don't blame my grandpa he meant well and deep down knew the lie wasnt going to last forever, only dickbag sperm donor is to blame for fucking everything up.

I changed completely once puberty really hit me, I was already prone to anger and easily upset, but it took years to be diagnosed with depression; I started eating to make myself happy from an early age (11 or 12 I guess) and being 21 now I am finally getting back and trying to be healthy and losing weight. I remember on more than one occasion probably about 14 or 15 I would get so depressed I (being home schooled and during summer when I wasn't doing e-learning in high-school) I would spend multiple days (2-4) never leaving my room and getting so hungry that I couldn't even throw up anymore; then proceeding to binge eat when I finally caved under the hunger and went out of my room to face my family's questions of well being and "do you want to talk?".

And before anybody questions my family allowing me to do this, they did not, but I would play it off by coming out in the living room and watch TV with them in silence to put on the act. But, and idk why, I refused to eat when I got this depressed. Eventually my mom got me on medication after going to therapy; that really helped to turn things around for me up until high school started and I stopped taking them (and for anybody who doesn't know what depression meds do to you, they fuck you up, make you feel empty, but the pain and sadness fades along with everything else, so there's that.) Along with my bouts of starving myself to death I also came quite close to suicide in that room several times but could never do it out of the pain I know it would cause everybody else and remembering what they felt like with all the funerals I had already attended.

I grew up again when my great grandmother died right in the middle of high school; along with all the aftermath of petty squabbling between 6 of the 8 children over all the stuff she had been hording over the years and how much shit they gave all of us for the stuff she left my mom, grandma, sisters, and me in her will (even though we were the ones who fucking took care of her).

Then again when one of my friends in high school died of stage 4 testicular cancer after beating it once already and having it come back, he was only 18 when he finally passed. Then I grew up even more (after it shattered my soul) when not even a month later the only person keeping me tied to my paternal family, my grandpa, died after being is hospice for two months. These two happened in my senior year of high school, I was working at a nearby school from my trade school for job shadowing and it really fucked me up, the only reason I was able to get through it thanks to my boss and my first (and current) girlfriend. She has become one of the few things keeping me stable lately.

And now I have a whole other kind of growing up to do with a baby on the way and no idea really whats going on with anything; my career (its moving so fast and I.T. is just confusing in a corporate business, things change fast, businesses change slowly, etc.). Right now I just feel like everything is exploding, and thanks to all the fucked up shit I just wrote about I am trying not to cry like a bitch remembering how fucked up and sad everything was growing up, the depression, the death, the changes, the therapy, the medications, being so close to killing yourself you have to explain how you cut your neck because you were holding a sword to your throat just wanting to end it so badly but not being able to handle what it would do to your family having to find you and miss you like you missed all the others.

This is how I have grown up over the years, be it as it may, I think I have come out okay, and learned quite a lot from all the crazy shit in my life, I just want to be able to give my baby the best and help raise them so they are less fucked up than their dad. At least I know understand depression first hand, so that becomes an issue I can at least keep that from fucking them up.