After reading many a response, I have reached the conclusion that my problems are minuscule in relation to those of so many others. I feel terrible, because I far too often lead myself to believe that my life is plagued with sorrows, and because I can't offer much insightful advice to those who are suffering.
Despite the fact that my life has been relatively easy, it has seen its share of periods of grievance. I know that none of you want to read much, but as I can't guide people through their struggles directly, this may just serve as a means by which to offer up help. By some miracle, someone might gain a sense of how to overcome any issues similar to the ones I've faced. That is my hope in recounting the events that my 17 years have witnessed.
As a young child, I began to display antisocial behaviors, often secluding myself for absolutely no reason at all. I grew to be rather introverted, though I knew inside that I never preferred this; I have always been one to favor human interaction, and so long as there is activity around me, I can thrive. This process caused me to lose self-confidence early on, and further inhibited my social endeavors.
Some of my earliest memories have to do with discrepancies and disputes between my parents. I vividly remember drunken men sitting around my kitchen table, playing poker - one of my father's favorite pastimes. This occurred fairly often, much to the dismay of my mother, who tried to shelter my two brothers and I from it. There were also times when my father would abuse my mother (I was unaware this was what was occurring at the time, and it horrifies me to learn that I could have prevented it). Flustered shouting and cries could be heard from the laundry room, and young as we were, my brothers and I were fearful. I remember being confused about whether that fear came from my uncertainty of what was occurring between my parents, or from my own inability to step in.
In March of 2010, my parents officially filed for divorce, which signaled a massive turning point in the course of my life.
Though my parents often fought and had been living separately from one another, this came as a shock to me. My mom had consoled us many times, saying that no matter how much they fought, there would never be a divorce. It was also against my family's religion. I allowed myself to believe this, and was let down in the end. Much of what I remember from the period following them breaking the news to us (which isn't a lot) is characterized by stages of coping, along with a sort of haziness.
My mom moved into a small apartment, while my father kept the house. Both had stable and decent-paying jobs, and there was a period where everything almost returned to normal, or at least went as far as they could in that direction, given the circumstances. Eventually the house was foreclosed upon, and my dad ended up in a small townhouse. My mom met another man, who was both a coworker of hers and a neighbor of ours. My brothers and I took to him, as he was such a cheerful, positive person. He also had three children from his previous two marriages. They were later married and moved into a new home together. It was a very happy moment in time for my mom's side of the family.
Given my introverted background, as described earlier in this post, you may be able to comprehend the loneliness I felt entering my middle school years. I had a few good friends who were always there for me; looking back, I'm sure we did a great deal to provide each other with support. However, adjusting to the new environment proved a challenge for me, and though I did particularly well in school, the workload and [my dismal failure at] balancing academics and whatever social life I had at this point led me to become severely depressed. Many nights saw me sitting at my desk, 90s rap blaring while I contemplated whether or not to continue on living.
During this time period, I began to see my stepfather's bad side, for lack of a better expression. He was abused and generally treated harshly by his father as a child, and this has evidently left scars. As with many victims of abuse, he began replicating the behavior, often taking out anger on me. He seemed to have frequent and drastic mood swings, and I could never be certain that he wouldn't take his frustrations too far. This worsened the situation I was in, and escalated it to such an extent that I consider this to be the darkest time in my life.
My 8th grade year brought with it many blessings. That summer, a childhood friend of mine invited me to a week-long church camp. Here, I would once again discover the importance and role of my faith in my life, making a fair few friends along the way. I started regularly attending youth services beginning that year, and my youth pastor helped me to better myself and mature in ways no one else could have. I won't say much more on the topic of religion, but it has shaped my life and led me to find some of the people I care most about, and may do the same for others.
Through my youth group, my introduction into and bonding with a new group of friends, and the general sense of optimism I'd gained, things began to improve dramatically. The school year proceeded, and I was content. But this was not meant to last long, as a daunting new prospect emerged: high school. Any progress of made in my social life was lost as all of my friends and I went our separate ways, and the illusion of happiness was shattered. 9th grade was very difficult for me. Though it didn't bring the emotional strain that the years prior had, it was challenging academically and physically, as I had joined the school's football and strength teams. I don't remember much else from my 9th grade year besides relying on video games whenever possible for a mental break of sorts.
My sophomore year brought a resurgence in social activity, and once again I felt normal. I was enjoying my classes, and had made the cut with both school and club soccer teams, a dream come true for me. I got my driver's license, continued to meet new people, and all was well. This trend carried on into my junior year - the best year of my life thus far. I suffered a knee injury that made it impossible for me to participate in soccer during the fall season, but I looked to mock trial as an alternative, which was a great policy. Through the mock trial program, I was introduced a great group of friends, as well as my girlfriend, so I can't help but see the injury as anything but beneficial.
I'm currently struggling to plan for the future (college, etc.) and to find a job. I am also attempting to remedy the lack of self-confidence and overwhelming anxiety that my girlfriend and I share, and it pains me to know that she can't understand that I think she is perfect the way she is.
Life never goes the way we plan for it to, and it's rather thought-invoking to look back on past struggles or moments we regret. In the end, though, we can't change a damn thing that our pasts hold, so why be so sad about certain aspects of our lives? We wouldn't be who we are as individuals if it weren't for everything leading up to this point, and believe it or not, this is a good thing - you're perfect the way you are! It isn't worth it to get caught up in any moment except the one you are in or the ones still to come.