Okay, so, I’ve been running this blog for long enough now that I should probably make a page telling my lovely followers at least a little bit about me.
Please note that this isn’t all easy for me to say, and I’m not going to give my entire story… Just a few things…
Okay, so my story goes back further than I can remember. My parents used to be together, they used to convince people that they actually cared for and loved each other. Too bad they didn’t see what went on behind closed doors.
My father is abusive. He would yell at my mom, swear at her, make her feel like shit about herself. He destroyed her self esteem and it took her years to get it back. Now, here’s when I come in; When I was born, my father was okay, until I started to grow. He used to yell at me. Spank me, grab my arm with enough force that he’d leave marks on me. We used to watch a few tv shows together, a few movies too. And eat the same snack.
For that reason I can’t watch the shows or movies anymore. I breakdown. Anyways, my little brother was born when I was going on 4. My parents always broke up and got back together because my mother was afraid of him. Just like me… I guess I got that from her. They divorced just after my little brother was born. My father wasn’t a big part of our lives until my brother was potty trained.
Then, we went to see him every other weekend. He did to us when he did to my mother; verbally and mentally abused us. He still spanked us, hit us sometimes, and grabbed us hard enough to leave marks. It got to the point that my mother threatened to take him back to court. He knew he had to stop.
Anyways, he got back with his “high school sweetheart” and she was always nice to us. Up until the summer of my grade 9 year. My mom found a new guy around the same time that my dad got his girl. I was about 7, and my little brother was about 3.
I liked the “step parents” better than my real ones. Mom worked late and is always snapping at me, and dad? I got physically sick every Friday, because we had to go there. My father just got worse and worse. Him and my step mother got married when I was 8 or 9. Regardless is was October 16, 2004.
Mom and her man never got married, I don’t think they ever will. Anyways, he’s starting to act like daddy… I just got away from him. At least I yell back at him…
Now, I started hurting myself when I was 10. Back then, it was just gouging my scalp, but when people started noticing I had to force myself to stop. I hated it. Once I was 11 I started again. But it was cutting. I’ve never stopped that. It just gets worse and worse as time goes on…
My mom’s family has always been big on diets and such. They’ve always made a big deal of my size. That’s probably why I can’t just get over my EDs. I’ve been struggling with those since I was 12. Yet again, they just get worse with time. Even if I’ve recovered before… Well, almost recovered.
But in grade 9, I met someone that I recovered almost fully for. I was fighting, I was actually happy. We made promises to each other, and he know I had strong feelings for him. Though he acted like he was interested at some times, I know he loved someone else.
Anyways, he talked my down daily for a month or so, and I worked to keep him better too, because he’s recovered from SH. He made deals with me that I didn’t like and they kept me fighting… But when his depression got too bad he walked away from me. Knowing it would destroy me.
Though I knew he was going to attempt again, he’d tried only months before but that girl he loved stopped him. So even though I knew he’d hate me for it, I had nothing to lose by saving him since he refused to talk to me.
I got his dad’s phone number from the girl, since we’re friends. And I called his father, read posts off his blog (which was how I found everything out). My voice actually broke on the phone… And his father called a family meeting. Long story short, he ended up on medication, seeing a therapist or something and didn’t jump off a bridge as he had planned.
He also hates me. And months later I texted him to see if he was done hating me yet, you know, like if he was happy I actually cared enough to save him? Nope. He was cruel. Heartless. Said everything that he knew would kill me, because he knew me better than anyone ever has. That was the day that I cut the deepest I had before.
So, he triggered and the thoughts and flashbacks still trigger, me to go deeper and breakdown. My guards back up, and it’s hard to even think about it…
I attempted suicide maybe a month and a half before I texted him. I was on medication because my therapist sent me to the Crisis part of the hospital. I was admitted and sent out within hours.
They couldn’t help me.
I was dating a boy that I’m still dating now, and it crushed him when he found out.
I guess I’ll tell you how much I love that boy now, how inlove with him I am, rather than continue to tell you all the bullshit I’ve been through.
I guess the fights and struggles we all go through make us who we are, does it not?
I don’t expect anyone to have read this, but I just wanted to get most of it out. So if you actually did read this, thank you. And I love you. <3