My Struggle with Self-Harm and Suicidal Ideation Due to Childhood Abuse

TW: Abuse, Trauma, self harm, suicidal ideation My family really wanted it to be socially acceptable to hit me. Like they were so happy romanticizing the days children could be hit anytime they found the children around them displeasing. I still have issues with hitting myself when I feel I've done too much wrong. It's compulsive and I fear I could even be causing brain damage. I hate my family for what they've done but deep in my heart I just wish they could have loved me and not hurt me. That anyone could see me as more than a burden when I didn't even want to be alive. I hate being crippled. I was rarely hit. But when I was I was certainly made to feel it was the justified solution. I know damn well if I hit them for horrible shit they did it would be punished as wrong so why did they get to throw tantrums like a toddler? Why did I have to be the fucking adult? Why did I have to push myself well before I should have to be an adult? I just wish they hadn't had me. They blame me just for existing anyways. They probably blame me for not wanting to be near them. Probably missing major family events. At the end of the day I can't push as hard as they want me to. Hell I'm barely staying alive with what they left me with after pushing my crumbling form. I just can't help but hate them but also still wish for this fantasy happy childhood with a mother who kept me safe and didn't cause harm. Like she wasn't the worst adult around me but she certainly didn't protect me many times affirming the decisions or even encouraging them. I mean this bitch really told my aunt that punishment was an okay response to me wetting myself. I was young enough to still be in early day care. I asked her about it later only to hear justifications of her believing it must have been for attention that I was wetting myself. So me having to sit in my own piss as punishment after a physical punishment as well is appropriate there? For any kid let alone that young that's fucked up. She failed to even consider how long after that I was still wetting myself and hiding it for fear of punishment. I still remember the last time. The pure terror on a vacation I literally just threw my underwear into the forest. I was into adolescence by then. If she even paid attention a little that should have raised red flags about my mental health. It literally took my middle school forcing her hand for anything to be done about my mental health. I only worsened from there. She did only what was necessary to keep me alive. Hell even my pets were fair game to get rid of. Drop of the hat the day we went to get them to move. And I had to lose my life long companion the only friend who had stuck by my side for so long. He went to some other family and I found myself so truly alone with a mother who I had to lie to myself to feel loved by. She could absolutely give affection but at the end of the day she couldn't stop the resentment she felt from seeping into how she raised me. Even if she tried to lie to herself. I'm so tired. I feel so alone and with only one person at my side left I find myself in fear that I will die lonely and neglected in a perpetual cycle of abuse I can't escape.