I was 12 when my Dad was diagnosed with bipolar depression. After his first attempted suicide, he was admitted to the psychiatric ward as an outpatient in our local hospital. I remember finding the noose he had attached in the garage, it was like something out of a horror film.
I used to argue with my parent’s quite a bit. Looking back, there’s so many things I regret saying to them, I just wish the ending was slightly different. I remember my Dad taking my music equipment off me one day, as I refused to come home from a friend’s house to look after our dog so they could go to the pub. Being quite young, I don’t think I realised that my family was falling apart and I was the only thing strong enough holding them together.
I was 13 when my Mum became an alcoholic. I guess it stemmed from her getting made redundant and everything going on with my Dad. My parent’s relationship started deteriorating when my Mum cheated. She found my Dad talking to multiple women online, one in particular who came to our house and left with belongings out of my bedroom.
My Dad tried to overdose when I was 15, paracetamol was banned in our house so he resorted to taking a higher dosage painkiller which was left over from his knee operation. The pills covered the kitchen work-top, I remember him being angry over something. This was my last memory of the family together before I had to leave.
After phoning the police, it was obvious my parents were no longer fit to look after me so my Auntie became my legal guardian.
After moving and living with my Auntie, I had no idea how much I was lacking basic needs and essentials when living with my parent’s. I weighed around 7 stone which at the time was really unhealthy. My parent’s were also in a considerable amount of debt. This meant buying things like food, clothes etc. was rare. I will always be grateful for how much my Auntie did for me.
I lived with my Auntie for around 3 years, but she felt when I turned 18, it was time to move back in with my Dad. For the first 3 months we were living in the old family house but we soon moved around 40 minutes away from my hometown of Harrogate. It was difficult having to drive to and from Harrogate for sixth form and work but the journey was the least of my issues. My Dad had come off his medication.
In January 2019, after dealing with a lot of money and living issues myself, my Dad told me to leave and get a place of my own. He said, it was time him and his new partner get on with their lives. I don’t think I understood what being alone was till I sat in my new university accommodation with no family to contact. I wish I was able to call them when having a bad day.
I haven’t seen my Dad for 4 months since he kicked me out. I have little contact with my Mum who still lives with the same man she left my Dad for. You could say I survived my parents mental health battle but in reality I found a way of dealing with it.
Over the years I was having support from different teams. Young carers, compass etc. but I was never really with anyone long enough to say it helped. Due to my age, I was going between child and adult services but I got fed up having to constantly explain my situation to new people. I’ve been suffering from anxiety and emetophobia (which is a fear of sick) the majority of my teenage life. I guess my upbringing didn’t help this but at least I can say i’m on the way to recovery.
Despite everything that’s happened, I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Now 19, I have a supportive group of friends around me who understand my situation which makes it easier. I’ve just completed my first year at University and I have a part-time job as a receptionist at a hotel. Things are looking up even if it means doing it without a family connection. I’ve learnt, people don’t have to be blood related to call them a family and i’m happy with mine.