I just needed to spill everything

I want to cry and I think I’m having a nervous breakdown. I can’t be having one, but I am. I feel nervous, anxious, guilt is weighing down heavy in my stomach and making me choke and my heart hurts and is crushing me. I want to cry and it all hurts, my hands twitch and tap and scratch and scatter. I’m tired, I’m dizzy, I can’t concentrate I am procrastinating on everything I can think of which is making the guilt worse because this is all truly my fault. My head constantly spins I feel confused I tried to fix it but it got worse. I’m tired, but I can’t sleep my brain plagues me and tortures me until I get back up. If I do sleep then it’s not enough I need more I don’t want to move I want to crawl in a hole and hide there crying, I can’t crawl back out, I’m not sure I want to it would be safer there. But I can’t let it show I can’t release all this I’m the sane one. Half my family has depression, my brother has ADHD. I don’t want to disappoint them I was the ‘normal’ one I and the rock that they trust and lean on I can’t break I act as the support structure for everyone. I love them and they act strong but I feel frail and it’s showing through but I can’t let it because I AM the sane one that isn’t as frail as the others. I can’t ask for help I never ask for help in the long run I don’t need help THEY do, at least more than me usually. I can’t change that. I can’t throw everything out like that. And the worst part? I sort of want to consider suicide, but I CAN’T, I won’t sure some of it is for me but mostly it’s for them too. If I were to die it would break my family and I can’t do that to them, I won’t. They’ve BEEN broken, they ARE broken, I never met my grandfather or Sean, I rarely hear about them but I see them. They were dead before my brother was born and I can see them. I see them in My Aunt L’s white hairs and her smiles that fall just a bit too flat sometimes. I see them in Uncle A’s gruffness and how serious, he was hard to the world. He was more open to family, but until a few years go it was clear. He’s finally softening again, reopening to everything, laughing more. It’s in never seeing woody or his family, Nana living by herself. It broke them, It would break mom more. Yes it would hurt my brother and dad, but it would be worse for her. She won’t tell it all to me, just bits and pieces, someday I’ll ask for the full story but form what I did get it’s crushing. Miscarriages, so many before she finally had my brother, each time it was worse until she stopped talking about them. And once, she made it rather far, she got excited, she was gonna have a girl call her mel, ironic considering I wanted that for my someday daughter, she was thrilled, then she miscarried, the baby died. She told my brother and I we almost had a sister once and left it at that. It took a while and she finally had me, she’s already depressed, she’s been suicidal before, not for years but it has happened. She can’t lose a daughter, not again. I want to scream but I can’t people here are too close together too restrained too separate. Friends who get drunk, friends who do drugs, friends who cut themselves and hurt themselves and spiral down where I can’t reach and where if I fall they won’t be able to pull me out to safety. tear out my hair, tear out my heart, cry for it all but don’t because I’m lucky I have a family that loves me and each other, I have friends, I have food in my stomach, I’m white so I won’t face the prejudice so many others do. I’m not attractive enough to be harassed and have people analyze my every action, I’m not ugly to be judged or ostracized or teased. I’m that thin line hovering over plain, my medical issues are minimal compared to others though enough that even with doctor endorsement and permission I was denied the right to a license, I’m broke under crippling student debt soon to kicked out of housing and unable to register for next quarters classes, I’m failing, I was honors but I’m failing. My childhood is gone and ripped from me each part more painful as it leaves. I’m not ready, I told them but they didn’t listen, I try but I fail. I can breath again now, but I still feel it lurking under the surface tightening in my chest, threatening to burst out and hurt me. I’m nit ready to tell, to put it all out there in person in front of them. I can’t I can’t tell them, unless they ask me first, until I really know that they see and care, but they won’t. They never do. I’m the rock and the rock doesn’t break so they won’t think to look for the cracks and stress marks they they would on anyone else. They’ll just keep assuming that they are there, and I’m scared that by the time they do notice there won’t be anything left that they can recognize. But I still can’t open my mouth.