My life...

Life started… under "wonders," in quotation marks. My mom had me with a completely irresponsible father. She ran away from home to be with him, broke up with my grandma, lived a mess, and then went back home. My grandpa helped, my grandma helped, my godfather helped. Until I was about 9, I had a good life.

Except for the fact that, when my mom had my sister Stephanie (who passed away), she got involved with a completely crazy and jealous guy. I felt the weight, but I was a kid and didn't understand much, so it didn't affect me that deeply.

We went back to live at my grandma's house. My mom went into a deep depression. She even tried to commit suicide. She was almost admitted to a clinic. My grandma took care of her as if she were taking care of a lifeless person, totally shut down. The situation passed and everything adjusted little by little, but I was already carrying a lot.

Then she started dating my ex-stepfather, Bruno. At first, it was great. Even today I say he was a nice guy… but he was a horrible father and an even worse husband. He didn't defend my mom at all. When it was time to impose something, he did nothing. When it was time to follow what she said, also nothing. His mother talked shit about my mom and he kept quiet. His ex talked shit and he also kept quiet.

His son, Mateus, didn't respect him in absolutely anything. I was the one who solved everything: putting him to sleep, feeding him, bathing him, tidying things up. I took charge and solved it.

I also have an autistic brother. My mom always let him get away with too much. We used to fight a lot because of that. I just wanted him to get better, to have a routine, to learn. She let him break his cell phone, do whatever he wanted. I never caused trouble and yet it always fell on me. Until, one day, she realized I was right: he evolved absurdly, became smarter, more intelligent, more independent.

My mom has asthma. Every time she had an attack, I was the one who kept calm to save her. I took her to the hospital, I solved everything. There was a day I saw her almost die in front of me, gasping for air, while my stepfather completely froze, crying like a child. I had to run around for her inhaler, help, everything alone. That gave me a fucked up trauma.

There came a time when I exploded: "I'm not helping you anymore." Because everything I did turned into demands, scolding, guilt. I was already emotionally destroyed. I cried hidden in my grandma's lap so as not to worry anyone.

When I stopped helping, everything fell apart. They separated. My mom left the house for them because she didn't have the emotional capacity to take care of both of them. The house was on her mother-in-law's land, so it stayed with him.

I went to live with my grandma. My mom went to live with a guy she had just met — one of the reasons she left the house. From then on, it was just confusion: debts, chaos, disappearances, excuses.

She sold the TV to help the guy pay off a debt. My grandma's credit card went negative. She says it wasn't her, but the card was with her when she fainted and ended up in the hospital.

Then more debts accumulated. Always some story to "not worry anyone."

I warned: "If you go live with this guy, I'm done." She went. I left.

He rented a house from her cousin, paid one month and then they disappeared without paying anything. The owner seized the furniture: refrigerator, microwave, everything. He would only return it when they paid.

One, two, three months went by without them paying. Always with an excuse.

I went there and paid. Alone. I negotiated, put my face on it, recovered the furniture, and even got another house for us to live in, with rent only starting in March. And even so, I heard demands and complaints. That's when I told everyone to fuck off.

And now I'm here. Trying to solve everything: renovating my house, paying for water tank, electricity, wiring, infiltration, design… because my mom needs to have a place to live and can't go back to my grandma's house, since she's had a big fight with her brother and he's acting out of childish spite.

To top it off, I found out that I'm going to need TRT (testosterone replacement therapy) for the rest of my life — because they removed my testicle due to medical error, a breach of mandatory protocol. My testosterone is 25. And now it's follow-up, exams, medications, expenses for the rest of my life.

"End" of the story. Between many quotation marks.

If anyone can help me — advice, tip, contact, even financial help — I appreciate it. I'm lost. I don't know if I'll keep my job because my contract ends on the 31st and I've been on sick leave for a long time because of the injury and surgery for testicular torsion.