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Hey,
This is going to be a long story in no particular order, but I hope you give it a read. It's a little all over the place so sorry about that.
My name is Tony. I used to regulate the 35+ group chat many years ago as someone who was "still" 33. I was having a crisis in life back then and was dealing with the fact that I had spent nearly a decade of my life in isolation from the rest of the world. I didn't know what to do and who to turn to. But with the help from people here I managed to face many issues with my poor mental health, and get healthy in life again. For those who don't know there is a Japanese word for people like me called "hikikomori", which just means a person who lives in a single room in complete isolation from the world, without work, without school, with nothing but a life online on a computer or watching TV. I can't go too deeply into what this does to the human mind, but if I had to describe it in a single sentence it would be "the intense fear of the world outside and denial that your life is a failure". It makes you insecure, fearful, doubtful and on top of all of that I had a family who was abuse. An elder brother who drank regularly and threatened my life on a regular basis. A narcissistic mother who would insult me and belittle me. Both people who were really no better than me in any way, but saw fit to pile up on me or blame me for everything. I couldn't get out. I couldn't really get better. I felt like there is no outside life for me. My whole world revolved around this sick family unit that made each other feel worse each day and at some point I wanted out. I had to do something before it was too late.
It started slow, but for me things got better, then worse, then better again, like a rollercoaster ride of mental sickness. Today I'm nearly 39, so a good 6 years has passed since I joined this site and took those first steps in getting better. Back then I was crying every night and with a laptop I logged into the internet and typed in help. I found 7cups. I found a listener. I found the group chats. I told the first person who would listened what my life had become and what I fear it will lead to. To my surprise they said my life isn't over and there's always hope and so, with just a little encouragement I started to work on myself. I managed to face my fear of the outdoors and to heal from my hikikomori life. It took me nearly 2 years of going outside, cycling and exercise to get my muscles strong enough to carry me. I visited social services for the first time ever and even had money. I could buy clothes that fit, because all I had were clothes from 10 years ago that didn't fit and they were all old. I put all my money into my cycling hobby and I felt happy. I started foraging in nature, doing long bike trips and feeling good about myself. All while my family looked at me like I was crazy. They often would try to sabotage my progress but it didn't work. I was determined. Then something happened.
It was during COVID years when I did all this self improvement. Everyone was isolated. Meanwhile I was out in nature, not caring. However at home, my elderly mother, abusive she may be, was getting sick. She wouldn't leave the house and was angry all the time, but she hid a terrible secret from me with the help of my brothers. She was always impossible to deal with, and I was always treated like an outsider so no one would tell me. She apparently had a small wound that she wanted to fix herself. Just like me, she never went outside so of course she avoided hospitals and doctors. Something bad was happening to her but I had no idea.
This happened more than 3 years ago, when I also I stopped coming to 7cups entirely. My mother fell really, really ill. She spent months in the hospital and it was during the COVID years too and it was hard to meet her. Since I lived with her, there was not only the fear of losing my only parent but also the fear of homelessness. Despite working out, losing lots of weight and gaining self esteem and facing my fear of going outside, it all came crumbling down because I wasn't sure if I'd have a home soon. I still hadn't gotten myself work and attempts to get into schools didn't bear fruit. I was at a loss on what to do all while fearing what was going to happen to her, or our family.
You see, my childhood is filled with trauma, mostly due to my mothers abuse and torment. I had to face the fact that the reasons I never faced reality, or wanted to take risks in life, was because I never had someone to look up to nor anyone to tell me I was worth something. On the contrary I was always reminded by how worthless I was, by my own mother. Especially when I was a child. It never helped either that when I was a child she would ruthlessly beat us siblings, and I can't tell you how often I had to hide bruises from teachers, because our mother successfully had us fearing that social workers would take us away. I feared that woman and I honestly hated her at times. We didn't ever get along. She had strong narcissistic traits and generally lacked empathy. When I say I received beatings, I wasn't the only one. Even our pets would get beaten so hard we feared they would die on the spot. She was always ruthless when dealing physical pain and would yell so loud we always feared we'd get evicted one day.
Yet despite all of this, she was still my mom and I cared for her. When she finally collapsed from her illness 3 years ago, I was there. My brothers were both away. She signaled for help and at first I had no idea it was even that. I saw her on the floor and I picked her up. I kept asking while panicking what was wrong. I lifted her on her dirty bed, in the living room filled with cigarette stains and dirty sheets. I held her and realized she was covered in sweat and talking badly. In my arms was this supposed monster I hated and feared from my childhood. She was old, withered and weak and helpless leaning against my frame that towered over her. That night I felt horrible for demonizing her in my head. All I wanted was to help this frail human being and so I did my best. Something clicked and another me took the rails, another Tony. I didn't want this person to die in my arms. I called 911 and waited, in that dark living room in the dead cold autumn night. She was delirious and would lean on my shoulder and kiss my shoulder, and I couldn't hold back tears at all while trying to tell her things will get better. A knock was on the door. I laid her on the bed and answered the door. There stood 2 police officers and my elderly brother, completely wasted. The policemen were taking him "home", when in fact he didn't live with us but just squatted. I was so disappointed. So angry that this was a night he chose to do this. The cops tried to pull him in and I told them to go away, he doesn't live here and I have a crisis at hands and I can't deal with it. Luckily they listened and took him to jail to sort his head out. And so I waited for the paramedics again in that quiet room. When they finally arrived she even resisted them but eventually went to the hospital. What started from this day on would break my heart completely and things would never go back.
She became delirious due to her illness. She had sepsis and began to see things while in the hospital. When she finally started to get better, she would start to suddenly blame me for illness, for things I didn't do. It started to break me apart. I would cycle 30 km to meet her only to be told by nurses that she insisted she didn't want to see me and they wouldn't even tell me why. I was so puzzled. I thought I did everything right.
Before I knew it, it was all because she was being influenced by my brothers. She was already paranoid due to the illness and hospital environment, COVID years isolation and me being the black sheep, so she believed everything they said. I believe their motivation was to get me out of the picture, because if it all ended badly, I wouldn't be willing to live with the abusive older brother who had a drinking problem and talked about ending me. See we all still lived together and I believe my brothers were afraid of what would happen to them too. They all started to ignore me, avoid me and treat me like a total stranger to make it seem more convincing to police that I'm somehow a threat to them, so not long after they tried to report me to the police for harassing them. It didn't work out. Their supposed evidence was when I called them often, at 1-3 am, worried where they were. All because they voiced suicidal ideation the moment our mother fell ill, and I was worried sick. It didn't help that I had no one to turn to, to talk to. I was being treated like something I wasn't and it took a heavy toll on my mental health. I had just started a new leaf in life and now... it all came crumbling down on me and I became truly depressed.
My mom, once recovered, got a new home, so our old one (rental) was transferred to me. This wasn't before I was tried to summon in court by my two brothers ill means of trying to get me in trouble, both of which had no evidence or merit. They wanted to blackmail me, but eventually they gave up and moved in with my mother to a whole new home. So I wasn't going to be homeless, they weren't going to become homeless, but they stopped all talking to me. I think this was because they still wanted to convince to themselves and possible authorities that there was something to their baseless claims. I simple gave up on them. I never wanted to talk to them and since then, for almost 4 years now, I haven't.
There was a catch with the old home. It was a total mess. Dirty everything from the floor to the ceiling. Before it was transferred to me, an inspection was to be made. I was nervous. It wasn't going to cut it. I was going to be homeless after all while my family leaves me to die alone. They packed and left the house in a total mess. Even stole items from me. I had one month to fix the places up and it almost felt like fate. I had worked out my body to be physically fit, almost for this one thing alone. So for one month I spent my time cleaning up the mess our whole family had made in our childhood home, painting walls, repairing holes, replacing doors, all with no money or job. I didn't want to give up. I slept on the floor. Repaired things I had no real skill to do. I called in electricians, oh and my social worker got me a phone. It was a big place so I had a lot of work to do. Outlets hanging from the walls, broken doors, you name it. I think I squatted so much during those 4 weeks that I lost feeling in my legs. It was almost inspection day and a month until December. It was now or never and...
It did it, it passed, and I'd never felt such relief in my life. I was free. I had a home. A new beginning. I was alone and a little terrified, but excited. I had some help from medical services and people who would listen to my story there and it helped tremendously. To have someone to talk your worries is all you need at times and nothing else.
After that I lived in a house too big for me, with a rent too much for me, but I had space. And space I used. I got myself a real bed, a real TV, a real living room and I even started gardening. I was in heaven, but still alone, but happily alone.
For the next 2 and a half years up until now I have gone from one program to another. I travelled a little. Saw new people. Embraced social interaction. Listened to people and realized that all I needed in life were positive and supportive people around me. That's all it takes for me to flourish, something so simple. I got some non-paid work because with my resume it's hard to convince anyone to hire me, but I loved the work I did. I helped elderly do daily tasks. I would help them get to hospitals. I would grow tomatoes in the summer and give them to my work partners in the autumn. I had small amounts of money to spend but enough that I didn't even know what to do with them.
Then the world started to change. Everything has become more expensive now, and the benefits programs that I relied on are all fading away, under a new government rule that wants to get rid of them. Am I late to start over again or did I take too long? That's where I am right now, today. This is why I'm here, sharing my story and asking for small advice along the line and why not, bigger advice too! There's always still hope. I want to work, save some money, perhaps find someone who can love me for who I am and establish a family. That's my goal. That and school. Get a well paid job and perhaps make some little Tony's.
Thank you for listening to my long story.
I didn't think I'd write so much and rewrite so much of it. Depending on the response I might delete this later, but I want you all to know I am not ashamed of who I am and what I've done. I'm me and what I am today is a summary of all my experiences.
I'm not a victim. I chose to forgive my mother in the end. I don't want to keep hate in my heart anymore, because then it's like she's still controlling me. I also realized that she cannot help not having empathy, or love. It might've been like that forever, but it took me too long to realize it. I still love her, even if she doesn't love me. Even today they now starting to call me, instead of me trying to contact them. I don't know if I can ever forgive my brothers though, because of what they did, they did out of greed and malice and I've yet to hear any form of apology from them.
I'm going to try an re-establish connection to my mother, but without big hopes of anything. She's old and won't be around forever so I don't want to bring these emotions I have about my childhood trauma she caused ever in front of her.
Thanks again for reading till the end. I hope you have a good day wherever you are and I hope my story didn't offend anyone or cause stress.