I'm sorry I haven't posted stories like I said I would.

My old psychologist took me off Adderall because she said I only wanted it to lose weight. So my ADHD has been acting up like crazy.

My new psychologist won't give me Adderall as she doesn't prescribe it to adults who aren't working. I am a volunteer moderator, and occasional artist and programmer, for two video game companies (Telltale and Double Fine), I have volunteered for several companies as a beta tester, I am a freelance video game journalist, and I volunteer for disaster services with the Red Cross. But all that doesn't matter I guess because I don't usually get paid for the things I do.

She put me on Welbutrin, which is only off-label for treating ADHD, and I haven't seen any improvement. I'm going to get her to raise the dose next time I see her. It's frustrating because Adderall worked wonders for my ADHD but no one will prescribe that to me, or at least no one in my network that takes Fidelis for Medicaid.

On top of that, my mom told me that she felt hatred towards me when I was growing up because of how girlish I was. She feels awful about it, and it's like she's two different people. My mom's my rock now. She's been my number one support person since I was in my twenties. I know I would have committed suicide long ago if it wasn't for her. But it's hard to not be resentful for how abusive she was towards me growing up. Especially with the revelation that she hated me.

Plus, I've been told it's my dad's fault why I kept getting beat up and put into in-school and out-of-school suspension with no counselor and no one on my side. I didn't have any friends in my grade, as the tall girly "boy", so I'd always get in trouble as it was the words of the bullies and their friends against just mine. My mom told me that she and my dad would always argue about me. He'd always go in and talk to the school and then would tell her just that he handled it with no other explanation. Then all that he would do is teach me how to punch by not putting my thumbs inside my fists.

I didn't want to fight anyone, but since I got so frustrated at no one believing me, I'd punch the lockers or the walls and that just made it worse. It made adults think I had an anger management problem. But no one ever tried to help me. My dad would just say I had to be "strong like bull", but no one would believe me that I didn't fight and I didn't even see any therapist for my "anger management" issues. My dad didn't believe in therapists because he didn't want any diagnoses in my permanent record. That's the same reason why he kept my high school from putting my diagnosis of high-functioning autism into my permanent record when I finally did get a psychiatrist in ninth grade. I only saw her three times and all that she did was introduce me to an older kid that had problems so that we'd work it out together. The weird thing is that on my third appointment she asked me why I never responded to her notices that she handed into my homeroom and I replied honestly that I never got them. I never had an appointment with her again and she didn't try to follow up at all in any of the four years I was there. I really wonder now if my dad had something to do with that.

The daily beatings scarred me for life, as my childhood trauma led me to develop Fibromyalgia as a teenager and it has only gotten worse as the years went on and now I get disability income.

My dad died when I was twenty, and I really don't know how to reconcile the bad things about him that I now know with the good memories I have of him. It's even harder than with my mom as my dad never got to know my real self, so I have no idea what he would have been like as I stopped pretending to be someone that I wasn't.