Growing Up Abused

The short version is my mom (egg donor) was an alcoholic.  She thought being a mom meant waking me up in the middle of the night while my dad was at work to go to a bar. Yea, I was the kid hanging out in bars when I was 5 or 6.  This didn’t last long because my dad found out after I mentioned something about it, which I got grounded for by her, and he made sure to put an end to it by putting her in rehab.  She was in rehab for 9 years off-and-on and died an alcoholic.  She verbally abused me for most of my life, forced me to take her to the store for more beer at 1am (I had school that morning by the way) when I could drive and grounded me for no reason just to keep me in the house. I have anxiety, depression, and was recently diagnosed with bi-polar, which I’m not sure is accurate.  The irony is my job is behavior rehabilitation for those, like us, need to learn coping skills. I can teach my clients these skills, but I can’t seem to teach myself. I’ve been doing good with my anxiety and maintaining control, but the depression is difficult.  No suicidal ideations or attempts, but I’ve had a hard time lately grasping on to what really matters, life with my family.