In Fear of Fear (Ha ha I'm quoting Bauhaus)

I'm depressed again, and I have been for at least three weeks, though I didn't notice until yesterday.

I'm not eating right. I binge eat because there's something I don't want to look at. I turn my brain to mush by watching things on my DVD player because I don't want to think or be productive. I draw, but only if I'm watching something at the same time. I'm frustrated. I want to be DONE with this shit, all of it. The shelter, the control, the fear. I saw my mom at the store a few days ago. She and her partner were putting groceries into a bag. I froze. My heart stopped for a moment. They didn't see me. I turned around and nearly ran to the other side of the building and hid in the notebook section because I don't think my mom ever buys notebooks. Even when I was sure they were gone, I did my shopping too quickly and out of breath because so much had been dredged up in a split second. I forgot a lot of stuff and didn't have the guts to go back. I walked very quickly back to the shelter and I couldn't shake the fear that she was following me all ninja-like in the shadows. But my mom isn't ninja-like. She walks with a limp. I live in the same neighborhood as she does, mere blocks away. I must be insane. This isn't safe. It grinds against the inside of my head, the energy and the fear that she'll see me and break down and I won't be able to stand up against her because the guilt will wake up and eat me alive. I was scared that she was following me everywhere, either on foot or in her car. I was scared that she HAD seen me, but acted like she didn't for some reason. That night, I was so scared that she was going to break into my room and kidnap me. Part of me wanted to go to her apartment and knock on her door and say "I'm so sorry, I'm just making it all up because I'm mad at dad and projecting it onto you, like you always thought. I'm so sorry please forgive me please forgive me please forgive me I'm so sorry." Because the only way I can love her is through guilt and shame.

I doubt my memories and think "I'm not damaged enough for all that shit to have happened to me." But normal people with normal, loving, supportive parents don't have fears of their parents kidnapping them.