Pretty House, Rotten Inside [pt. 1]
I’m literally writing about my life live, like in real time. I don’t wanna turn this into some paid content or paywall type shit. Maybe some of y’all will actually like what I gotta say about my life. If something sounds confusing, feel free to hit me up in DMs or drop comments. I mainly wanna write a story about my life, but with Reddit I imagined it way cooler ‘cause it’s more interactive. I got so much shit to tell about my life. That’s why I wanna present my story exclusively for this sub. This is about my life. I actively want comments and questions so I can make the next part even better :)
Just to get the mental health stuff outta the way first: I never got myself diagnosed. Mostly ‘cause I never had the strength to actually go to a doctor. I know I probably should at some point, but first I kinda wanna prepare myself through Reddit. I wanna use the comments (and yeah, I know I shouldn’t take toxic comments personally) as some kind of reference for self-reflection.
First off:
I lived in Bavaria my whole life up until this new chapter started. I’d call myself an attractive woman. I never really had problems talking to people, but there were a few things standing in the way of that. Actually, a lotta things. But more on that later.
Chapter 1:
Whenever friends came over, they only saw the nice house. Since I went to school in the city and knew all kinds of different people from everywhere, my friends automatically thought I had the perfect life.
Truth was completely different though: I had a nice room, lots of space, we had a big garden, a grill and all that, but the social atmosphere at home was straight-up hell. That’s why I was always embarrassed to invite people over. That’s also why I’d always tell my friends: “Let’s wait till my parents go on vacation.”
My mom constantly put me down and controlled me. My dad only cared about grades back then. I felt like I wasn’t even allowed to be a human being. God forbid I got bad grades once — suddenly it became this huge drama. Then I’d hear shit like how I was “dragging the family name through the dirt” or people asking if I was “raised badly” or “didn’t get enough education” just ‘cause I got bad grades sometimes.
And honestly, I can even imagine that some of the bitchy behavior I showed toward my girlfriends back then was probably just me redirecting toxic energy and stress I got from my parents. I’m lucky my friends understood that, ‘cause I knew other girls whose friends had zero understanding for what they were going through.
I was the black sheep of the family. I did Ecstasy, LSD, Speed, mushrooms, alcohol, DMT — not excessively, but enough variety to completely shock parents. I was terrible at school. Barely managed to graduate and still didn’t really make much outta my life afterward.
I tried working for the railway company in the business department, was even a train attendant, but whenever annoying assholes pissed me off, I was too proud to fake being all smiley and “everything’s fine.” I argued with rude passengers so much that eventually they straight-up asked me if I even wanted to continue doing the job with my temperament. I said: “Nah, probably not good energy.” That went on for three years.
Then I tried retail. At Kaufland I finally found something that genuinely felt right for me long-term. I originally applied for cashier, but somehow ended up in the bakery section instead. I had so much responsibility but also so much privacy that I literally told my boss I wanted to stay there forever. But eventually I moved out into the countryside, and my boss always scheduled me starting at 5 AM in the bakery. Since I lived so far away, I couldn’t keep doing it anymore. I asked him if it’d be possible to at least work afternoon shifts, but he acted weird about it. Out there in the countryside there just weren’t any full-time jobs.
Then I tried being a waitress at a restaurant. No full-time opportunities either, but I was too proud to depend on welfare money. I figured with my looks and charm I could at least finance my cigarettes. And honestly? I could. But my landlady was a straight-up Nazi bitch. I invited some friends over once, and she stood at the entrance asking them: “Are you even German? Where are you actually from?” And I politely asked her: “Sorry, why does that even matter?” with a friendly smile. “Oh, just asking.” Yeah… “just asking.” Sure.
I moved outta the shared apartment after a year and basically had to crawl back to my mom and live there again like some house pet. Of course I always helped my mother financially, but it felt like a bottomless pit. I had to make it clear that just because I was the one making the most money, that didn’t give her the right to guilt-trip me constantly. Like, you brought me into this world and I’ll always support you, but I know when you’re just getting too comfortable at my expense. Sounds selfish as hell, I know, but honestly… apart from giving birth to us kids, my mom sadly didn’t really do much with her life.
I missed out on my teenage years ‘cause taking care of my little sisters always mattered more. I was lucky my girlfriends were so understanding. They just genuinely wanted me around — it’s not like I was some emo outcast kid or whatever. But honestly, it wasn’t something normal that my friends would almost daily come with me to daycare and childcare stuff just because they were my friends. I really gotta say this here: thank you Celina and Sonja. I’ll never forget that.
To Be Continued