My home was charmless; it was not home to me; on parting from it, I could not feel that I was leaving any thing which I could ha
ve enjoyed by staying. My mother was dead, my grandmother lived far off, so that I seldom saw her. I had two sisters and one brother, that lived in the same house with me; but the early separation of us from our mother had well nigh blotted the fact of our relationship from our memories. I looked for home elsewhere, and was confident of finding none which I should relish less than the one which I was leaving. If, however, I found in my new home hardship, hunger, whipping, and nakedness, I had the consolation that I should not have escaped any one of them by staying.
You don't need to worry about labeling yourself if it's stressing you out this much. You of course can try to figure it out, but you really don't need to label yourself.
(I'm really sorry if this comes off as insensitive, I'll help more if you need it <3)