First off, thanks to anyone who can offer advice or words or wisdom, and even for taking the time to read this. I don't know where else to turn at this point.
So, where to begin...Well, I'm 29 years old and every waking moment that passes makes me feel like I am gasping for air. Here's some (lengthy) background.
Basically, I grew up in a home with an alcoholic father, a fairly emotionally-unbalanced (hispanic) mother, and a bully for a brother. From memory, things seemed normal until the time I was around 4 or 5 years old, before my father's drinking moved forward at 90mph. After that point, things seemed to change for the worst. My brother stopped loving me as his baby sister and bullied me increasingly from then on. My mother was severely affected by my father's alcoholism in probably more ways than I could know, but she always seemed to take it out on my brother and me. I have always known her to be very detached, especially when it came to feeling any remorse for others. She had her moments of normalcy, but they were always extreamly short lived. She and my father were both extreamly verbally abusive to us kids and were sometimes physically abusive.
Mom raised my brother and me, but never showed us love or affection, never told us she was proud of us, would constantly tell others while we were within an earshot how useless we were, etc. We weren't perfect kids by any means, and spent a lot of time acting out, but our lives and everything we knew was filled with a lot of screaming, name calling, rage, and etc. Something out of a Lifetime movie. In that time, of course I was looking for a soft place to fall, and fell into the first guys arms that were opened up to me. This was my first boyfriend ever, who I dated for several years, who turned out to be abusive and wore me that self esteem down even further. Not surprisingly, I've made major mistakes with the many boyfriends I've had since then, hurting every one of them, then leaving after a couple years.
College came and my father died right my first semester. I've been struggling to understand how I feel about his death, since for most of my life, I never really got to know him, but merely the backside of his head as he passed out in front of the t.v. My mother was there with his until the end of his life, but didn't shed too many tears. I suspect was having an affair before he had died as well. She was not my favorite person to begin with but after my father's death she moved up to the top of my sh*t list. She became a hulk version of herself and everything seemed to just get worse and worse. Mom became extreamly self-entitled, selfish, and really hostile at times. Most recently, she would tell me she was leaving me out of her will, continued to tell her side of the family and people who come by the house that my brother and I are worthless and do nothing for her...it never ended. I had a hard time when growing up even trying to help my mother when she needed it with chores, etc. because she always treated me so badly.
I wasn't in a position financially to move out when I went to college, so I lived at home for all of that time and as an adult, continued to pay the price with the same behavior continuing. I moved out briefly, and things were somewhat better, but even then, I would get nasty phone calls about why I was "too busy to come by" (aka guilt trips), and how it must be because I "hate her so much." I know that this probably has very little to do with me.
Like I said, I haven't been perfect. I've screamed back, called her every name in the book. I realize that I haven't been a great child. I've been a stupid one at times. I've made mistakes fighting back with fire. But the older I get, I can't wrap my mind around how as a parent, she could have done and said all these things to her kids. And more importantly, how she doesn't realize how that's had an affect on her kids. I can count on one hand how many times she's said she's sorry to me in my entire life. I have never seen her be apologetic for any of this. The one time, most recently, that I was able to tell her that what she was saying was offensive to me, she looked at me with a "you've GOT to be kidding me" face and stormed off. I just stood there in disbelief that she could brush me off like that.
A few months later, I was very sick, coughing for hours, and she said something about me shutting up so she could sleep and I just lost it. That was the straw that broke the camel's back, and I stopped talking to her, made a plan to move out, and left 2 months later. When I left, my current boyfriend helped me move out. He tried to talk to her to see if there was any mending eh could do, and of course it was to no avail. He told her why I was angry with her, and she told him I was crazy like my father, that I was brainwashing him, and stormed off. Nothing seemed to make a difference.
That was almost a year ago. She called for a while and left messages. First the messages were uncharacteristicly nice, and got nastier and meaner with every call, leaving off somewhere with my having demons in my soul. WOW. Who knew!? (insert sarcasm here).
So, let's fast forward to present day.
After I graduated from college, I had an amazing job for a year and a half and was laid off. Emotionally, I couldn't handle the job loss at all, and I just fell apart. I didn't work my final 2 weeks at the job