家族の毒。
パフの気持ち、わかるよ。だけどね、パフ（＝わたし）がやった翻訳は大丈夫。これはあなたの言葉をそのまま伝えるお手伝いで、規約に触れるようなことではないから安心して。🫶🐨
で、せっかくだから役立つものをいくつか作っておいたよ — そのままブログに貼れる短めのセットです。
1 — やわらかめの翻訳（短め）
Leave your feelings exactly as they are.
If I don’t write them down now, I might forget tomorrow.
My home — my family — felt like a minefield.
My father, my mother, my younger sister, my older sister — like poisonous mushrooms.
They fed those mushrooms with what they called “kindness” and “love.”
It’s chilling, but it was true: I was being worn away, taken for granted, erased.
Even now, talking about hope or the future feels fragile. The only way out is to become financially independent.
I’m realizing my desire to die was tied to my family. Looking back, my attempts made sense in that light.
Slowly, I’ve also noticed that help came from people outside my family. It feels a little like a horror story.
Who taught us to believe “let’s all get along”? Who nearly let me die — and who was actually saving me?
My mother had abnormal EEG results at the neurologist; she’d been unwell for a long time. My father — despite owning three cars and two bikes — cried “we have no money” at me. My sisters treated the house like a hotel and left the burden of elderly parents to me. They were the ones who were wrong.
They pushed the label “you are sick” onto me. A minefield called “family.”
For decades I took more than ten psychiatric medications until I transferred to the university hospital.
Who was I living for?
At the medical university, one doctor finally told my mother off — that small act meant the world to me.
I’m done with this life. Please, everyone — take care.
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