Letter to my pastor.

I write this letter in a very urgent manner, I apologize in advance for my tone. I just happen to feel extremely desperate and I need your help.

Almost every night now, I stay up late hating myself. Because I feel that everyone else does. I have come to a point in my life, once again, where I question if I'm supposed to still be here. I'm tired. At my 23 years of age, I feel like have lived through way too much heartbreak. And I know, I know, "a servant is not above his master..." or however that goes.

I am having a hard time. And once again I am feeling suicidal. Or at least long overdue for some cutting. Not really suicidal then, but I spend a good 3/4 of my day fantasizing about it.  How everyone will be sad, and feel sorry and finally pay attention. Sick, isn't it. Guess my mind is like that now a days.

I don't know who to turn to, because well, at this point, I sort of have no one. I was abandoned by the ones I thought were my family. Sure, I have my biological family whom I am nothing but a burden to, all devoid of emotions and uneasy of mine. It feels like the only way they know to react to my overwhelming emotions is to get angry with me, or to ignore me. It shouldn't surprise me anymore, but it does. I have only one friend, whom I think I overwhelm to the point where he just doesn't want to deal with me anymore. So, I come to you.

Where do I start? I suppose by telling you this: I am angry, I am lonely, I am heartbroken, lost and tired. Why? Well I suppose that would mean recount the past few months of my life.

In February of this year, I was thriving. Two jobs, my own apartment, my own car, I had everything to be grateful for. But I still had a very broken heart. And so my mind was overwhelmed to where I went back to a very ugly old habit of mine: cutting. It got to a point where I did it every day. And it was getting progressively worse. I secluded myself in a world of my own, and even though everything looked good on the outside, I was falling apart at a very fast rate. To the point where I had planned out how to kill myself. Several times. And it was entirely horrifying to have those thoughts. But I had very little emotional output at this time. Mom (Shannon) was away with her brother dying of cancer, I had to stick to my routine of cutting and suppressing all my emotions. So it continued this way, until one day, mom asked me to come to California with her, so I could get away from it all.

And so, I didn't think twice. I wanted away from this heavy cloud that was over me. I packed everything up, and it was literally 3 days later that my things were packed and in the car to go to California. I left both my jobs, and my apartment and car were to be taken over by Jacob and Lexy. In the meantime we took baby Gabriel, whom I was to look after while he stayed up there with us, then as soon as he left, I was to find a job and get myself settled up there. Well, it didn't go that way. It was only going to be temporary, just to check things out up there, she said. Well I watched the baby and didn't do much of anything else, since it was just temporary. After the few weeks the baby was up there with us, Mom came back to Mesa with him and left me up there. I was to help her brother and his wife while she was gone. A fight ensued a little after she was gone, and mom said I shouldn't go over there anymore. So I stayed in our trailer, all alone, for another week or so, until her relatives from Sacramento came to rescue me.

In the time I was up there, my car got repossessed here in Mesa. Well duh, I hadn't made payments since I left. Not on insurance, or the car. I was under the assumption that it was going to get taken care of by Jacob and Lexy, since they used it more than I had. I lost the car and was devastated. And frustrated because I was powerless to do anything while being stuck in California. I also felt very abandoned by Shannon and the rest of my family. In the time I was up there, I lied to my biological family of where I was staying and my biological dad almost died of heatstroke. So I was scared, carless, ruined my credit and just lonely. I told Aunt Virgie of the situation, and she was really angry, but she decided she would pay for my car to be taken out of the impound lot, and for me to fly home.

I spent almost two months up there until Shannon came back. It was because Brett was dying. Again, she brought the baby with her, as well as Jacob and Lexy. So the day that Brett passed away, I was there. But I couldn't go back to the trailer with them, because there was no room in the car. I had to go back to Sacramento with the relatives. Well the next morning we drove out to Oroville again. And that's when all kinds of awful things were said about me. How I would lie and pit people against each other and all these things. Shannon was telling Virgie and Tiffany. Jacob and Lexy flew home the next morning, and Rachel flew in shortly after that. They went back to the trailer, and I was left in Sacramento because my flight was coming up. I was being pushed out, it seemed. Virgie wrote that check out to Shannon, who convinced me that I better use that check for rent, because my car was gone and I needed to find somewhere to work and that was going to take some time. So, that was the plan when I flew back.

Bill picked me up at the airport, bought me a few things at the grocery store and took me straight to my apartment, with no bed or any furniture. It was a few days until I got any of that back. And I was unable to go anywhere, being carless. I would call home, and no one would answer, I would leave messages and voicemails and was just so lonely, running out of food and groceries and rent date coming up close. I kept cutting. Even worse now, to the point where the scars just formed new scars over old ones.

Rent day came in and I called dad. No answer. Finally the eviction notice came. I called again. He said that money wasn't for that, that he had no way of helping me. I called mom in panic, and she said the same thing. I don't know how to help you. I was so helpless at this point and so angry and so frustrated that I decided I was done. And I slit my wrists. I got scared and started messaging the Samaritans instead. They traced my phone line back to the Stark house and they were directed to my apartment from that point. I got tons of calls from Shannon, none of which I answered. I called my biological brother to come get me, and take me to the hospital. I was taken by the police, and my phone was taken away from me.

My biological mom went to the hospital to see me, to get her car keys, since I had borrowed her car that day. I didn't want anyone to see me, so the nurse staff didn't let her in. She says she went back to my apartment to get my cats. At this point Shannon and Lexi were in there taking stuff, that was theirs. Shannon sent me a message saying she had gone to the hospital but they wouldn't let her in. My mom says that's what she told Shannon. So I guess I'll never know. 3 &1/2 weeks in a mental institution was where I spent most of my July. Not once did they look for me or try to come see me. They blamed everyone else for me doing what I did. Also, the day I got out, I discovered my phone was disconnected. I felt like I was just thrown away.

After I got out, I didn't go to therapy. Who can afford it? I don't even have health insurance. I stayed a month in Mexico, and from when I came back until now, I have been in the same room, on the same bed, day in and day out. I am paralyzed by this depression. I don't know what to do with myself. For 6 years or so, I had a stable-ish family. One whom I didn't mind giving up my paychecks for, helping around the house, running errands, helping to raise Hannah and Gabriel. I thought they loved me. I truly did. And I have never felt like such a fool in my life. Now I'm back to my ugly reality. Where my mom works for minimum wage and has to support my little sister and now me.Where every two weekends she drives down to Mexico to see my dad. And my life is just this. She has no sympathy for me, she is frustrated that she can't support me, and I feel like an enormous burden. I have gained so much weight, so not alot of my clothes fit. I don't feel adequate to go to a job interview, in fact I am scared to death of them.

I feel like they can automatically see my emotional brokenness, and don't want to hire me. And so I'm practically useless. And I am reminded of it almost every day.

So, here's my main dilemma: I know that I need Jesus in my life. I know that's why I'm writing this letter, to you in particular. I know that. But I am scared, and upset, and feel so alone, to the point where I don't know where he is. I try to pray and most days, it's like he's not there anymore. So I get angrier. And I go in the opposite direction some more.

I feel like, because Shannon led me to Jesus in the first place, I feel like I don't get him anymore. I am living in a Catholic household who demands I embrace the Catholic church again, since "that's what I get for trusting Christians." It's been boiled down to that: Shannon is a Christian, and she hung me out to dry, therefore it's wrong to be a Christian, and I'm stupid if I still want to be one. That's my family's way of thinking.

And I am slightly guilty of associating Jesus that way. And I know I shouldn't. I feel so alone. And very frustrated. And I know I need Jesus, I do. I just don't know how to go about getting him again.

I wish I could meet up with you, and talk about this more.
It's just so much and so overwhelming. But I just need to talk to someone about it. Because it is eating me up inside and I don't know how much longer I can take it.